The Heiress - Lynsay Sands [7]
Now she was dancing with Lord Willthrop, who, while a little younger than her father, also had a hook nose that appeared to cause him some trouble since he was constantly sniffing. He also had terrible breath and a very pompous attitude.
Suzette was beginning to despair that her plan was doomed. For she’d happily embrace scandal and ruination before she’d embrace any of the men she’d so far encountered. Of course, she didn’t really have that option, because it wouldn’t just be herself cast into scandal if she failed to find a husband and claim her dower. Her father would as well, though it was little more than he deserved for bringing this down upon them all, but so would her little sister Lisa and—married or not—Christiana as well would suffer. Suzette couldn’t allow that to happen if she could prevent it.
She grimaced at the thought, and then sighed with relief as the dance finally came to an end. Suzette managed not to rush rudely away from Willthrop to get as far from his bad breath as she could. While she would have liked to, she had been raised better than that and, instead, allowed him to walk her off the dance floor, nodding stiffly as he thanked her for the dance.
“I believe the next dance is mine.”
Suzette paused to glance to the man who had appeared at her side as she and Willthrop reached the edge of the dance floor.
“Ah, Danvers,” Willthrop said in greeting. He then turned to nod to Suzette before moving off into the crowd.
Suzette watched him go, and then turned to her next partner, vaguely recalling agreeing to dance with him early on in the evening. Her gaze slid over his face, taking note that there didn’t appear to be anything wrong with him. He was average in looks, attractive even when he smiled as he was now doing. He was also only five to ten years older than she, and he wasn’t sniffling, leering, or picking at spots. In fact, his complexion was spot free. He, of course, would be one of the not-in-need-of-money men, she supposed with a weary cynicism and glanced around in search of her sisters. She spotted Lisa first and raised a querying eyebrow. Her other eyebrow flew up to join it when Lisa gave her first the signal for land, then title, and finally the signal they’d agreed on for no money.
Suzette immediately started to turn back to Danvers, a smile blooming on her lips, but that smile died suddenly and her jaw dropped open as she spotted Dicky making his way quickly through the people on the edges of the dance floor. He was headed straight for Christiana, who stood surrounded by a group of older women, no doubt garnering all the gossip she could on prospective husbands for Suzette.
“It can’t be,” Suzette breathed with dismay as she stared at the man they’d left for dead when heading for the ball that night.
“Is there something wrong, my lady?” Danvers asked.
Suzette glanced to Danvers with confusion, so overset at the sight of her brother-in-law apparently alive and well that for a moment she couldn’t recall why this man was at her side. Recollection struck her a blink later, but she merely shook her head and hurried away, forgetting even to mumble an excuse as she rushed toward Lisa.
“What are you doing?” Lisa asked with amazement as Suzette caught her arm and hustled her through the crowd toward their older sister. “He was a prospect, and much better than the others so far. He—” The younger woman’s words died on a strangled gasp as Suzette brought her to a halt next to Christiana and Lisa saw who their older sister was gaping at. When their brother-in-law turned toward them at the sound, Lisa breathed with horror, “But you’re dead.” Her head swiveled to Christiana. “Wasn’t he dead, Chrissy? We packed ice around him and everything.”
“The ice must have revived his cold dead heart,” Suzette said, anger helping her recover quickly from her shock. Glaring at the man, she added a dry but heartfelt, “More’s the pity.”
If Dicky looked