Always a Maiden (The Belles of Beak Street #5)(30)

Through the swirl of dancers on the far side of the room, Evan saw her. He tilted waiting for a gap to be certain. Then he spied her mother seated beside her. It was most definitely Susanah. Relief washed through him. Evan released a long breath as if he’d been holding it a very long time. Almost as if she knew he was looking at her, she glanced his direction. Heat ran through his veins.

She dropped her gaze. Then with her fake smile, she turned toward the gentleman seated on her other side.

Odd that she wasn’t dancing. She always danced. He had an instant of wondering if the bottom of her feet had been caned as he’d heard that was a form of torture in the Orient. A particularly ingenious method as the results weren’t visible the way a bruise from a slap was.

“The more interesting question is why are you in town after you said you were leaving to become your uncle’s steward,” Hull said.

Evan didn’t have an answer ready. Damn, the man beside her was none other than Lord Farringate. That made his stomach churn. “I won’t be in town much longer.”

“So your cousin is sickly?” asked Hull.

Evan jerked his attention to the man. But after what his uncle had said, he couldn’t deny it. “How did you jump to that conclusion?”

Hull was staring across the room in the direction of Lady Susanah. Doubtful he could see her as the dancers were between them. “Well, he should be at college or even university by now. But no one has ever laid an eye on him.”

“Gilbert has a tutor.” Although the tutor was more of a minder than an actual tutor. His cousin could read and write after a fashion, but attending university would be beyond him. “And I’ve seen him many times.”

Hull stood beside him silently as if that were enough to satisfy him. But then he was generally affable.

Why wasn’t Susanah dancing, caned feet being unlikely? Had she decided she had to marry Farringate to be a countess? Or had part of being confined on bread and water been to make her accept the old man’s suit?

“Your uncle’s barony is by writ, is it not?”

Evan stiffened, the line of Hull’s inquiry suddenly clear to him. “It is one of the older baronies, yes.” Which really didn’t answer Hull’s question, but Hull probably already knew the answer. Because why else ask in that way?

“So his barony, or I should say his father’s barony, goes to heirs of the body, not just male heirs. If your cousin were to turn up his toes, your mother would become the next in line to inherit the barony, would she not?”

Evan didn’t bother to confirm Hull’s words.

“And you are your mother’s firstborn son?”

Baronies issued by writ passed through the direct line to females if no male was left to inherit. Assuming Gilbert never married and his uncle didn’t remarry, his uncle’s barony would go to his mother first, then to her descendants. Evan didn’t see much point in denying what Hull already had deduced. He had older half brothers by his father’s first wife, but he was his mother’s oldest son. “I am.”

“Have you told her?” Hull nodded across the room in Lady Susanah’s direction.

Evan pressed his lips together. There were a lot of ifs—though none likely to come to fruition. Most likely he would end up with the barony one distant day. But it could be decades away. And it wasn’t his secret to spill. Although, the only secret about his situation was Gilbert’s condition. “It is hardly a prepossessing title.”

Hull continued, his voice a singsong. “They are placing bets at Brooks that Lord Farringate will be married before the season is out.” He cast a sly glance in Evan’s direction. “I bet against it.”

“You’ll lose.” Knowing what he should do, Evan clenched his hand at his side. He should encourage Hull to court Susanah, but he never wanted to do anything less. “Unless you’re planning on marrying her. You really should consider it.”

“Bored with her already?” Hull asked.

Evan was anything but bored, which was surprising. “No, but if you’d marry her, I could have an affair with her next season.”

“Now is that any way to treat a friend?” Hull laughed good-naturedly. “Don’t know how you managed to coax such a paragon of virtue to be wicked. Really never thought there was much to the girl.”

“Still waters run deep.” Evan gave up trying to dissuade Lord Hull that Lady Susanah had attended the masquerade. “Go ask her to dance. Her mother won’t turn you away. And for pity’s sake don’t say anything about her shoes, or masks, or being out when she shouldn’t. There isn’t any reason to torture her.”

“You’re turned away?”

Evan shrugged. “Do you really think the Marquess would let his only child marry a steward with only the ghost of a chance of becoming something more?”

Marriage? When had he started thinking he wanted to marry her? Perhaps when he’d offered to take her inside and own up to his part in their excursions. But she’d dismissed his veiled offer without so much as a flicker of interest.

“I see,” said Hull. “But surely it is more than a ghost of a chance?”

Evan turned toward Hull assessing the man. The viscount was a drinker, a gambler, and he enjoyed his fun with ladies of questionable virtue. But he was good-natured and would probably treat Susanah kindly. “I’d far prefer she marry you than that old roué.”