“I face choices, my lady, none of them to my liking. If I leave matters alone, I’m essentially waiting for Effington to come along and snatch my business prospects, my good name, and possibly my blameless brothers away.”
“But Ash hasn’t stolen anybody’s dog. Effington would have no witnesses, no proof.”
The look Will gave Susannah was chilling in its pity. “My dear, Effington will regretfully swear, under oath, that he saw Ash Dorning leading Alexander away from the Marches’ mews. Effington will recollect Sycamore in conversation with a notorious bear handler, and recount money changing hands along with a large dog. Others will corroborate that testimony, or important parts of it. Effington is a rotter, and the more rotten he plans to be, the less we’ll grasp what he’s about until it’s too late.”
Will spoke as if it was already too late. As if they were helpless but to read their lines in a tragedy, the ending of which had been fated before the curtain had gone up.
“Then I will swear that Ash Dorning was with me,” Susannah said, “and Effington must have been mistaken.”
Will’s palm cradled Susannah’s cheek. “Your testimony won’t hold up, because you are a paragon who could not possibly lie convincingly, but I love you for offering to protect my brother at the cost of your own reputation.”
Dread swept away the pleasure Susannah took in having Willow Dorning in her bedroom avowing his love.
“Are you saying Della must marry this cur?”
“For her to marry Effington is one alternative, though I can’t, as a gentleman, support it.”
Relief coursed through Susannah. Will was a gentleman, of that there had never been the slightest doubt. The truest gentleman she’d ever met.
“Even if a marriage between Della and Effington would assure our own future, I can’t support it either, Willow.”
This was…not how Susannah had felt even that very morning. Then, she’d been willing to ignore her own instincts regarding Effington, and she’d regarded any match for Della as better than no match. That’s how desperately she’d sought to put an end to her own social ordeals, how badly she’d craved the safety of spinsterhood.
“So if Della isn’t to marry Effington,” Susannah said, “what other choices does that leave?”
Susannah would loathe these choices. She knew that by Will’s shuttered expression, and how his hand fell to his side.
“Ash, Cam, and I can leave London immediately. When dogs continue to turn up missing, we’ll have some evidence to exonerate us. Perhaps Effington would go after Casriel next, but that would require more boldness than even Effington has.”
“Why can’t Effington simply marry some other young lady, one with fat settlements and a fondness for new bonnets?” Susannah asked, slipping her arms around Will’s waist. He’d already departed, in some sense, already gone over the balcony rail, into the dark night without her.
Damn Effington and all his mangy ilk, for taking advantage of helpless dogs, who asked for little enough in life. For ruining honorable men because of a lack of coin. For destroying a young woman’s future out of simple spite.
“Willow, I want you to know something.”
His arms came around her, solidly, snugly. “I want you to know something too.”
If he said he was leaving her, running back to Dorset with his tail between his legs, Susannah would…
Try to let him go, though scurrying away would be wrong—for them, and also for him. Very wrong for the dogs nobody cared about the way Will did.
“I want you to know, Mr. Willow Dorning, that the moments I’ve shared with you, on the dance floor, in the park, in that bed, I have felt more alive, and more like myself, than at any other time. I love you, I will always love you for those moments.”
She felt the shock of her words go through him, and they’d surprised her too. Her declaration lacked the Bard’s finesse, but she’d never expressed herself more sincerely.
“I want much more than moments with you, Susannah.”
She hadn’t expected Will to say that, and for the space of a sigh, Susannah simply basked in his assurances. His embrace was firm, his words unhesitating.
This was the true Will too. Tenacious, relentless, tirelessly patient.
“If Della isn’t to marry Effington,” Susannah said, “if you’re not to take your brothers back to Dorset, and Effington isn’t to ruin anybody, then what are we to do?”
For Will had made a choice. Susannah could feel that in him too. The certainty he enjoyed about so much of life had not failed him now.
“The course is simple, though not easy. All I have to do to thwart Effington is find the dogs and ensure that the guilty party is held responsible for stealing them, and I must do this before Effington suspects Lady Della’s affections are not engaged.”
He was quivering with eagerness to begin that quest, ready to bound away in hot pursuit of a nearly impossible goal.
“Willow, it might already be too late. Della was prepared to give Effington a rousing set-down before she left the ball tonight.”