Always a Maiden (The Belles of Beak Street #5)(18)

*

“What is wrong with you?” Mother demanded. “Put that sandwich back, you’ve already had two. Do you want to be as fat as a cow? Who would marry you then?”

Susanah put the sliver of a bread and butter sandwich back on the tea tray. “I lost count.”

She didn’t dare say that she’d missed breakfast, and her stomach was a gnawing hole. Her maid had woken her three times before she’d finally managed to get out of bed at half nine. Sleeping past nine in the morning wasn’t allowed. If her mother knew she was thirty minutes late in rising, she wouldn’t have any supper either.

“Do I simper?” Susanah asked.

“You had better not, and I had better not see a smirk on your face either.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Susanah almost sighed. She should have asked her maid. “Might we go shopping this afternoon?” She held up her slippers where she’d begun picking out the threads. “I thought I might redo these in an ivy pattern.”

“You might as well toss them. You’ll never be able to cover all the holes you put in them with your ridiculous pattern. You can’t be seen with holes in your shoes.”

Susanah raised them nearly to her nose and searched for the tiny pricks in the kid leather. She could scarcely see any. Rubbing her thumbnail over the ones she could see made them disappear. “I don’t think anyone could see any holes unless they were crawling on the floor.”

“Are you being insolent?” demanded Mother.

“No, ma’am,” answered Susanah. “I didn’t mean to be.”

“You haven’t had one caller of a suitable nature,” said her mother.

The end of the acceptable time frame for social calls was drawing near. The butler entering with the silver salver containing a calling card saved Susanah from further recriminations. The bent down corner indicated the visitor was waiting to be admitted. Unless the caller was entirely unsuitable, he or she would be because today was their “at home” day.

“Go sit in the sun,” said her mother.

That meant an acceptable suitor was calling, and she must be put on display. Susanah sighed. “What if he wants tea?”

Her mother waved her off to the seating group in front of the window where the sun—if it deigned to make an appearance—would shine on her blond hair, putting her in her best light, according to her mother anyway.

Stuffing her slippers in her sewing basket, she picked it up and moved to the chair where she was supposed to charm suitors. She’d never be able to take another sandwich before the tray was taken away. The distance from her mother was far enough to allow the illusion of privacy, but there wasn’t any. Her mother would listen to every word she said and give her opinion later. “May I ask who is joining us?”

Her hope of getting an answer was negligible.

“Lord Farringate, his daughter, and his sister.”

Susanah took a deep breath and moved into the filtered sunlight. Arranging her skirts, she sat in the chair. She drew her legs slightly to the side, knees firmly together, but then her posture was nearly perfect. As perfect as one could get, without turning into a salt pillar.

Her potential suitor was shown inside and the two women sat with her mother. Susanah studied them. The younger—obviously the earl’s daughter kept her chin down and her shoulders curved in slightly. Mother wouldn’t like her carriage. Lord Farringate stood.

Susanah observed him surreptitiously while working on a neat piece of embroidery on a handkerchief. It wouldn’t do to be seen stitching on her shoes while company was present. He wasn’t a bad looking man for an older gentleman. But as he eventually wandered toward her, she wanted to flee. She couldn’t say why. He was appropriately dressed if a little bit old-fashioned with his breeches, clocked socks, and buckled shoes. From what she could tell, he had a bit of a paunch, but most men of a similar age did.

She smiled in his direction. “How are you today, sir?”

“Well enough.” He didn’t return the favor of asking after her. Or smiling. “Why are you sitting over here alone?”

“The light is better over here. So I can see my stitches.” She rose from her seat without a glance at her mother. “We can join the others if you would prefer.”

He gestured toward the chair where she’d been sitting. “No. Do take your seat. I do like to see females being industrious.”

Sitting once again, she took care with her skirts. It was a small gesture, but it gave her a second to breathe. She wasn’t certain if he meant the words as insult or compliment. So it was probably better to take no notice of them. Studying his face, she tried to imagine what life would be like as his wife. “How are your children, sir?”

His smallish eyes narrowed and he seemed to be studying her as much as she was him. “Well enough.”

“And you have eleven?” She wouldn’t know what to do with a passel of children.

“Living,” he answered curtly.

Susanah was flustered. One didn’t normally mention children who didn’t survive childhood. “I didn’t…”

“Seven boys, four girls. Last I heard, all were healthy.” He gave a wave of his hand dismissing her concern. Except he almost sounded as if he wished it weren’t so.

Perhaps he was sad that any of his children had died young. She kept her expression bland as she puzzled that. Should she have acknowledged his dead children? Her parents never mentioned her siblings that hadn’t made it out of the womb alive. Although, she felt the weight of them every day. She must be all things for her parents since she didn’t have any brothers or sisters. But she couldn’t be the one thing they wanted since she couldn’t change her sex.