her understanding of the world and men and women, honed by her opportunities for ceaseless observation would never be put to good use.
Stop that! she told herself sternly, just at the moment that the patterns of the dance brought Ben Wolfe swinging past her. To her astonishment, he gave her a nod of the head and a small secret smile.
Now, whatever could that mean?
Probably nothing at all. He must have meant it for his partner, but she had gone by him before she had had time to receive it. Susanna watched him disappear into the crowd of dancers, and then she never saw him again.
It was a trick of the light, perhaps, or of her own brain which was demanding that someone acknowledge that she still lived other than as an appendage to Amelia, who, having been proposed to by young Darlington, would shortly not be needing her services any more.
Which would mean turning up at Miss Shanks’s Employment Bureau off Oxford Street to discover whether she had any suitable posts as governess, companion or duenna for which she might apply.
The prospect did not appeal.
Now, if only she were a young man, similarly placed, there were a thousand things she could do. Ship herself off to India, perhaps, and make a fortune—like Ben Wolfe, for example.
Drat the man! Why was he haunting her? She had never looked at a man other than in loathing since Francis’s betrayal and now she could not stop thinking about someone who, rumour said, was even more dubious than Francis.
And he wasn’t even good-looking and she hadn’t so much as spoken to him! She must be going mad with boredom—yes, that was it.
Fortunately, at this point, Amelia returned and said excitedly, ‘Oh, Miss Beverly, I feel so happy now that George has finally proposed. It will mean that once I’m married I shall be my own mistress, do as I please, go where I wish, and not be everlastingly told how a young lady ought to behave.’
Susanna could not prevent herself from saying, ‘You are not worried, then, that George might demand some say in where you go and what you do?’
‘Oh, no.’ Amelia was all charming eagerness. ‘By no means. We have already agreed that we shall live our own lives—particularly after I have provided him with an heir. That is understood these days, is it not?’
And all this worldly wisdom between future husband and wife as to their married life had been agreed in less than an hour after the proposal!
‘Of course,’ said Amelia. ‘It will mean that I shall not be needing a duenna after the wedding ceremony. But then, you knew that would be the case when you undertook the post. It’s what duennas must expect, George says.’
Amelia’s pretty face was all aglow at the prospect of the delights of being a married woman. She was a little surprised that Susanna wasn’t sharing her pleasure.
‘He’s promised to drive me in the Park tomorrow and he’s going to insist to Mama that I go without you now that it’s understood that we are to marry. You can have the afternoon off to look for a post, George says. He’s very considerate that way.’
Susanna could have thought of another word to describe him, but decided not to say it.
‘If your mama agrees,’ she said.
‘Oh, of course she will,’ exclaimed Amelia. ‘Why ever not?’
And, of course, Mrs. Western did.
She also agreed with her daughter that Susanna should—as a great concession—take the afternoon off to visit Miss Shanks about another post. ‘I would not like you to think us inconsiderate,’ she finished.
She must have been talking to George Darlington was Susanna’s sardonic inward comment. But, again, she said nothing, which was the common fate of duennas, she had discovered, when faced with the unacceptable and the impossibility of remarking on it.
Fortunately for both Amelia and Susanna the afternoon was a fine one. The sun was out, but it was not impossibly hot, and after Susanna had seen that Amelia was as spick and span as a young engaged girl ought to be, she dressed herself in her most dull and proper outfit in order to impress Miss Shanks with her severe suitability and set off for Oxford Street—on her own.
It never failed to amuse her that although Amelia, only a few years younger than herself, was never allowed to go out without someone accompanying her, it was always assumed that it was perfectly safe for Susanna to do so. Who, indeed, would wish to assault a plainish and badly dressed young woman who was visibly too old for a nighthouse and too poor to be kidnapped for her inheritance?
So it was that, enjoying the fine afternoon, the passing show and the freedom from needing to accommodate herself to the whims of others, Susanna almost skipped along with no thought as to her safety or otherwise.
Nor did she notice when she had reached Oxford Street that she had been followed from Piccadilly by a closed carriage driven at a slow speed and with two burly men inside, so that when she turned into the small side street and the carriage and men followed her, she thought nothing of it until one of the men, looking around him to see that no one was about, acted violently and immediately.
He caught Susanna from behind, threw a blanket over her head and, helped by his companion, bundled her into the carriage, which drove off at twice its previous speed in the direction of the Great North Road.
Chapter Two
Susanna started to scream—and then changed her mind. She only knew that she was inside a carriage and had been snatched off the street by two men. Best, perhaps, not to provoke them. She was about to try to remove the restraining blanket from her head when one of the men removed it for her.
She found herself inside a luxuriously appointed chaise whose window blinds were down so that she had no notion of where she was, or where she might be going. Facing her, on the opposite seat, were two large men, both well dressed, not at all like the kind of persons one might think went about kidnapping young women.
She said, trying not to let her voice betray her fear, ‘Let me out, at once! At once, do you hear me! I cannot imagine why you should wish to kidnap me. There must be some mistake.’
The larger of the two men shook his head. ‘No mistake, Miss Western. We had express orders to kidnap you and no one else. And there is no need to be frightened. No harm will come to you. I do assure you.’
Somehow the fact that he was well dressed and decently spoken made the whole business worse. And what did he mean by calling her Miss Western?
Her fright as well as her anger now plain in her voice Susanna exclaimed, ‘You are quite mistaken. I am not Miss Western, so you may let me out at once. In any case, why should you wish to kidnap Miss Western?’
‘Come, come, missy,’ said the second man, whose speech was coarser and more familiar than that of the first, ‘Don’t waste your time trying to flummox us. Sit back and enjoy the ride. This ’ere carriage ’as the finest springs on the market.’
Susanna’s voice soared. ‘Enjoy the ride, indeed! I can’t see a thing, and I have urgent business to attend to this afternoon. You have made a dreadful mistake, but if you let me go at once I shall not inform the Runners of what you have done, which
