Chapter Seventeen
Three long and torturous days later, Colin and Mrs. Creighton ventured to take the girls around London, and while he tried to feign attentiveness, he was irritable and sallow. Rosie kept looking back at him with concern, but she mercifully kept her mouth shut, although whether that was from her own intuition or Kit’s threats about their behavior on this outing, he couldn’t have said.
Bitty was enraptured by London and its finery, gawking and gasping at ladies on horseback in the park and riding by in carriages. She waved gaily at all and received a surprising amount of responses in kind. Whatever Colin’s popularity had been, his sisters were going to outstrip him very smartly. It struck him that this guardianship would send more females flocking his way than anything of his own merit ever had; and the irony there was not lost on him.
He didn’t want more females.
He only wanted one.
Colin sighed and winced a little bit, forcing her back from his thoughts for the thousandth time this morning alone.
“Colin sad?” asked a little voice with great concern.
He looked down at the tiny girl clutching his hand with all of her might. Ginny was terrified of being out here, her eyes wide and her steps hesitant, and only Colin’s touch had soothed her. Now she looked up at him with those sweet eyes, the smallest of puckers between her brows.
He tried to smile as his heart tugged a little. “A little sad, Ginny.”
The pucker gathered a few more furrows and her lower lip stuck out. “No sad, Colin. Sad means you go home.”
He almost laughed and squeezed her hand a little. “Don’t you want to go home, Ginny?”
She shook her head at once. “Stay with Colin. Make you happy.”
Now he smiled and wanted to hug her. “You make me happy, poppet. I won’t be sad.”
She beamed up at him, then went back to her usual somber observance of the world around her.
His sisters looked a picture today, each in their matching blue coats and bonnets. Tibby had known enough not to give them much by way of matching, but in this case, she had been quite right to do so. Any artist with an eye would have begged to paint them just as they were now, with their vibrant blue eyes and dark brown hair, all of them looking more perfect than the finest porcelain dolls. They would be a credit to their family in looks, if nothing else.
But he and Kit were determined that they be smart, accomplished, and well-mannered as well. And so far, they seemed on the perfect course for it.
Well, Rosie could have used a little more polishing, but at nine, they were not too worried. Yet.
Kit had been remarkably present over the last three days, and they had shared precisely one conversation on the topic of Susannah, wherein Colin had revealed everything to him, including writing to the Gent and his two refusals. Kit had listened quietly, offered some bland sort of counsel that really didn’t mean very much, and then asked Colin what he wanted to do about it all.
“You mean to let me have my way?” Colin had asked in surprise.
Kit had given a small smile. “I am not your lord and master, Colin, and it is your life. Provided you do no injury to yourself or anyone else, if you think it best, I will go along with it.” Then he’d snorted and leaned back. “‘Let you.’ Me letting you do something. Most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.”
And that had been the end of it. But more than Kit’s words, his presence had meant a great deal. His silent show of support and strength had bolstered Colin, and the girls had loved the last three days of having their brothers so much around them. Kit had taken them over to Tibby’s for their lessons with Freddie, ensuring that Colin wouldn’t have to see anyone he did not wish to, and had actually taken up the entertainment of the girls, which was a refreshing change, as that was usually something only Colin really did.
Just yesterday Colin had come upon the four of them in the library, sitting on the floor, all three girls piled on and around Kit, while he read aloud from the fairytale book, using the most extraordinary range of voices. There were pauses for tickling, giggling, surprised screams, and a general sense of merriment that Colin wished he had been a part of. He had been tempted to join, but opted against it. It had been a precious moment for Kit to share his true nature with his sisters, and for them to enjoy their eldest brother alone.
Colin could not distance himself forever, nor would he wish to. He felt more himself today than he had in days, and as such, he had volunteered for the outing, knowing he owed it to the girls, but also knowing that his lack of being seen would soon give rise to comment. And comment was the last thing he needed at this time.
“Rosie, stay close, please,” he called as the streets became more crowded.
Rosie came to him at once and tucked into his side, looking a bit uncertain for the first time this morning.
Colin smiled and nodded at a passing woman and her daughter, who stared at the girls in shock.
“Nervous, Rosie?” he murmured, keeping his smile fixed.
“Trying not to get trampled,” she replied. “We never had crowds like this at home.”
He chuckled. “This isn’t a crowd, Rosie. This is usual foot traffic for this time of morning.”
She looked up at him with wide eyes as Bitty’s gleeful cries met their ears. “You can’t be serious.”
He nodded slowly. “Welcome to London.”
“And when are we going home?” Rosie asked faintly, looking around again.
“Look!” Bitty cried loudly, waving with more excitement. “It’s Freddie and Susannah.”
Colin stiffened and looked where Bitty was indicating, and suddenly he echoed Rosie’s question. Susannah looked just as enthused about seeing him. Her eyes were wide and her face faintly echoed the pale gray shade of her dress. Freddie strained against his mother’s hold, waving back at the girls, but Susannah held him fast.
“Colin, can we go? Can we? Please?” Rosie and Bitty asked in unison, Rosie’s inhibitions suddenly gone.
His eyes were fixed on Susannah, anger and irritation swirling throughout him, as well as a startling flash of pain. She was lovely, even looking as drawn and uncomfortable as she was.
Mrs. Creighton came to his side. “Mr. Gerrard, I can handle the girls myself if you would prefer to…”
“Go on, girls,” he murmured, “but behave.”
Bitty and Rosie dashed ahead the short distance to their friend and his mother, while Ginny stayed near him. He spared a glance for Mrs. Creighton, whose expression was composed, but a hint of concern was evident.
“It’s all right,” he said quietly. “I can… It’s all right.”
She nodded once and went ahead to mind the older two, while he and Ginny slowly moved forward. Susannah murmured something to Mrs. Creighton, who nodded and distracted Bitty and Rosie with an older woman’s dog nearby.
Colin looked at Susannah, who met his gaze steadily, and he wished he could rage at her, as he had so often done in his mind. He felt it, along with a hundred other things. But despite his turmoil, he was, above all else, a gentleman. And he would remain composed.
He looked down at Freddie, who was watching him with concern. It struck him that he had not seen the boy in three days, which was not a significant amount of time, but it felt much longer. “Good day, Freddie,” he said, trying for a smile.
Freddie looked at him for a long moment, looking uneasy. “Colin, are we not friends anymore?”
Colin’s brows rose sharply. “Why would you say that, Freddie?”
“You never come to see us now,” Freddie replied, looking as though he might cry.
Colin closed his eyes for a moment, and then lowered himself down to be at eye level with the boy. “Listen up, lad, there is nothing on this earth, the heaven above, or whatever is beneath that could make us not be friends anymore. I am sorry I have not come by lately, adults get a little distracted sometimes. To make amends, if it is all right with your mother, we will all go to Dennison’s Stables and see the horses.”
Freddie gaped. “Can we really?”
“Really?” Susannah faintly echoed, looking at him in wonder.
He swallowed and nodded, rising to his feet, and staring at her with far too much intensity than he should have. “It is the very least I can do, I assure you. If I had more time and a more creative mind, I would come up with something better.”
She shook her head. “This will be more than enough.”
Colin nodded and gestured to Mrs. Creighton, turning from Susannah so he would not have to look at her anymore. “Besides,” he said roughly, “I happen to be on rather good terms with the owner.”
As much as he enjoyed visiting Dennison’s, and seeing his friends, he wished fairly quickly that he had not said anything at all. Nathan and Mr. Grant, the manager, were pleased to see them and took great care with the children. Ginny had ventured off with Mrs. Creighton to see the foals, which left Colin alone with Susannah.
He was less than pleased about it.
Everything about her drove him mad. Her scent, her manner of breathing, her slight smile as she watched her son laugh and ride around the paddock, the way her eyes sparkled against the cloudy skies… He hated how much he wanted her, and that she would not give him the relief of admitting her feelings and accepting him. He wanted to be patient, he wanted to trust her, but a bitter seed was growing within him, and far too many echoes of his painful past were constantly on his mind.
“Thank you for this,” Susannah said softly, glancing over at him. “It is very kind, and you did not have to. I… would have understood if you’d done nothing.”
He grunted and watched his sisters giggle as they pet a horse on the nose. “The girls see Freddie every day, he is a great friend of theirs and a good boy. I don’t see why they should suffer simply because we cannot see eye to eye.”
Susannah flinched a little at the bite in his tone and she frowned. “Colin…”
“Don’t frown,” he ordered sharply, forcing himself to appear at ease. “The children are watching.”
Susannah suddenly craned her neck as if a shiver had run up her spine. He had noticed her react thus on occasion, but had never questioned her on it, and her bland smile for effect did nothing to remove the sudden hollowness in her eyes.
“Why do you do that?” he asked in a low voice.
Her eyes widened and she looked back to the paddock, swallowing sharply.
“Any time someone tells you to do something,” he continued slowly, “whenever an order is given, you react similarly. Why?”
She exhaled slowly and he could see the play of emotions across her face as she forced herself to remain composed, and her color heightened. “I didn’t know it was obvious.”
“Why?” he demanded, tired of her evasiveness.
Again came a slight twitch, and her mouth tightened as she looked down at her hands folded before her. “A habit from my marriage. One that I would much rather forget.”
Colin felt a wave of surprise hit him like a wall, and swarms of questions flooded him. He waited, watching her, but when she brought her head back up, she fixed her eyes away from him and on the children.
And he wanted her still.
He nearly growled at himself. Enough was enough. He took her arm and forced her out of sight to the closest stables. She went without resistance, gasping a little, and the noise stirred him. He backed her against the wall of the building, kissing her before she could say anything to enrage him further.
She moaned and softened beneath him, her fingers curling into his coat. He cupped her face in his hands, worshipping her with his lips and his heart.
Susannah broke off and shifted her mouth from his. “Let me go, Colin,” she gasped weakly, her voice choked with tears. “Please let me go.”
He pressed against her more fully, his lips almost frantically dancing across her skin. “I can’t,” he groaned in a low, harsh tone. “Don’t you understand? I can’t…”
His lips found hers again and words were meaningless. Need and hunger clamored within him, and he wished that she would let go, would give herself up to this, to him. Longing for her to be his in truth.
She arched her neck, gasping for air, then pressed her hands, which had become trapped between them, into his shoulders, trying to force him away. “Colin, no…”
The finality in her tone, despite the breathless quality, sent a chill through him and the hollow look in her eyes cooled his desire in an instant, and he stepped away. He shook his head and fixed his eyes on the horses in the paddock beyond them, carefully avoiding her captivating eyes.
He was through. For his own sake, he had to be.
“Apologies,” he said, his voice rough but somehow managing to keep it polite. “I would hate to continue to plague you when you find my attentions displeasing.”
“Colin…” she whispered, his name sounding painful to his ears.
He shook his head once, very firmly.
“Please.”
“You aren’t going to tell me, are you?” he asked darkly.
She kept her face firmly away from him, but he saw her throat work for a swallow.
“Geese and swans,” Colin muttered, moving back into plain sight of everyone. He met Nathan’s eyes and raised his chin in acknowledgement, then turned from the stables and began the walk back home, resentment and anger leaving a foul taste in his mouth.
Susannah closed her eyes on her tears as Colin walked away. She couldn’t say a word to him, couldn’t bear to look at him. He would grow to hate her at this rate, and perhaps it would be better for him to do so. She knew what he wanted, and she also knew how desperately she wanted the same thing, if her life were any other life. But the secrets of her past were too much, too shameful and horrifying for her to relate to anyone. The debts themselves were mortifying, but the darker secrets, the ones she fought daily to forget… No one would look at her the same way after that.
Memories of cold voices, darkened rooms, sneering orders and insults assailed her. Revulsion welled up within her and she clung to the paddock for balance as she swayed under the weight of it. She would never forget the faces, the leers, the superior and callous expression on her husband’s face as he criticized every aspect of her existence…
A cold shiver ran up her spine and she bit back a soft cry as she forced a smile, moved back into the sunlight, and waved at her son, riding so happily on the large horse. He looked where Colin had been and his face fell, but she could fix that. She could be sure that he would never think less of Colin for his absence. She ought to have done so before, but she had not known how.
Mrs. Creighton would be back with Ginny soon, and Susannah would have to create an excuse for Colin that would be believed by all.
She could hardly tell them that Colin could barely stand to be in her vicinity because she could not admit how she loved him, and had rejected his offer of marriage.
Twice.
“Susannah! I didn’t know you were going to be here; I would have come earlier!”
She closed her eyes again as Moira’s cheery voice reached her. She could hide her distress from the children, they were easy enough to distract. But Moira would be another matter entirely.
She forced herself to open her eyes and smile at the woman as she approached, her copper hair partially hidden beneath her bonnet, sapphire eyes brilliantly sparkling. Moira was a very striking woman, and her independence only added to her attractiveness.
“Good morning, Moira,” Susannah said, mentally wincing at how rough her voice sounded.
Moira gave her a searching look, her smile fading. She looked beyond her, where Colin had left some time ago, and then back to Susannah. The longer she looked, the more Susannah felt tears rising. Moira had that effect on people, she’d heard. It was as if she could see into her heart, and draw out the emotions she so valiantly tried to contain.
Moira’s expression softened. “Oh, darling,” she murmured, coming to her and giving her a tight hug.
Susannah resisted at first, only half returning the hug, as was polite. But Moira held firm, and whether it was the warmth in her nature or the steady comfort of her heartbeat, she didn’t know, but suddenly she had to wrap her arms around her fully. Her frame shook with the restrained cries she would not let loose, her breathing erratic and unsteady.
“Come see me tomorrow and we’ll have a chat,” Moira whispered. “I insist.”
Susannah shook her head slightly. “The Cartwright masquerade is tomorrow.” It was to be one of the finest events in London, given that the Season had ended, and Tibby had been talking of nothing else for days.
“Yes, it is,” Moira said, pulling back to look Susannah in the face. “But that does not mean I cannot talk with you beforehand. And don’t worry, I won’t press. Colin has already told us you are very private and to respect that, and for once I agree with him. But you could use a friend, couldn’t you?”
Susannah nodded, unable to vocalize anything at the moment.
Moira smiled and took her hand. “I’ll have the other ladies come, too. We’ll all go to the ball together. There is strength in our numbers, Susannah, and we can help you sort out whatever the matter is.”
Susannah sniffed and looked up at the sky. “Oh, I cannot let them see me cry!”
“The children?”
She nodded, blinking quickly.
Moira shrugged. “Tell them it was me. I am a very emotional person, I cry all the time for no reason at all.”
Susannah laughed and her first genuine smile of the day appeared.
Moira squeezed her hand. “There, that is much more like it.”
Susannah looked at Moira for a long moment, digesting her words. “Colin… told you not to press me?” she finally asked, trying to keep her voice light.
Moira nodded as she waved at her husband and the girls. “Yes, he was most insistent. Generally, I never listen to anything Colin says, as he is simply ridiculous most of the time. But in this case, he was the most serious I had ever seen him, and said if we could not behave properly around you, he would not let our association continue.”
Susannah gaped openly, no sound possible. “He… he said that?” she finally managed.
“Something of the sort, the implications were the same.” Moira smiled at her then, a mischievous light in her eyes. “He is very protective of you, you know. I thought he’d been so when Annalise had her troubles, but with you?” She shook her head. “It is so much more. I did not know this version of him existed.”
“I did,” Susannah murmured softly, turning to look back at the children. “That is the Colin I knew.”
Her voice broke a bit on the end and she scolded herself, clearing her throat.
Moira watched her for a moment, then put a hand on her arm. “I must get home to my children, but do come tomorrow. We’ll talk if you wish, and if not, you can help me figure out what to do for my gown for the masquerade. I know absolutely nothing about such things, and Tibby said you have quite the eye for it.”
Susannah offered a small smile. “I should be happy to offer my services, my lady.”
Moira looked quite severe. “Stop that right now, Susannah. I am no fine lady to you, I am your friend. And you had best remember that, or I shall be quite vexed.”
Susannah smirked as Moira walked away, and she wondered what on earth a vexed Moira would even look like.
It was probably quite terrifying.
She turned back to the children, and was relieved when Mrs. Creighton appeared, seeming not at all surprised at Colin being gone, and she asked for no explanation. She carried on a conversation with Susannah as if all was normal, and when the time came, it was she who made the excuses for him, saving Susannah the trouble of having to do so.
There was no telling how long she could continue in this sort of life, with Colin’s friends and family surrounding her. She could not change her mind in this, not if she wanted to save him from what lay ahead for her, and especially not with the law and debt collectors getting closer and closer by the day. Who would wish to remain connected with her then? If they knew her, if they knew all, who would stand by her?
She valued the friends she had found, but she could not confide in them completely. Their loyalties were with Colin, as they should be, and they saw Susannah as an ally there. They had no idea she was also the villain.
Time would tell when things would end here.
She only hoped she could get out before the worst happened.