to think more clearly. Susannah spoke as though she released him from any obligation, but was that really the best thing for both of them? And did she really mean it?
“Come to Goodwin Hall for tea sometime,” he offered. “You and your sisters are always welcome.” It was a mere social gesture but all he could think of at the moment.
“Thank you.” She glanced up at him uncertainly. The fire had gone out of her, and when it left, the traces of her fatigue remained. “You were always a charmer, Daniel.”
Something in her tone made him pause—allure of any kind was apparently not high on the lady’s list of male virtues. One auburn curl had pulled loose from under her bonnet, and he resisted the mischievous urge to reach out and grasp it. He shook his head. “No. I’m not as charming as you think me.”
He touched the brim of his hat and walked away. He refused to look back at the ridiculously run-down cottage that was her stab at independence or at her trim, lovely silhouette as he continued his stroll. Three years he had been engaged to Susannah. Three years. Somehow, in the back of his mind, he had planned for it all to work out. But after hearing nothing from Susannah, he’d pushed the thought of marriage further aside. And it wasn’t until he’d received word that his brother died that he’d had to bow to obligation and come home. The thought of marriage to Susannah was rather daunting; he hated the thought of becoming as violent and grim as his father had been. Or as dreary and drab as his brother had been. Why not avoid the inevitable as long as possible?
And that made sense at the time. Unhappy relationships were his lot in life. He had no idea how a couple in love should act. He’d certainly never seen it for himself.
His mother had died when he was still quite young—hounded to death, so village rumor ran, by her sour and cruel husband. By the time Daniel was old enough to think and feel for himself, Father had lapsed from abusive to merely domineering, while his distant brother sat dully about the house. He hated everything about family. Family meant duties and obligations. Family meant silent meals, recriminations over one’s personal foibles, absentminded reminders that he really never had lived up to anything in his father’s estimation.
And falling in love meant marriage. And marriage led to families. And that would merely start the miserable process all over again.
That was precisely why he’d run away.
The Hall loomed in the distance. Its solid presence nothing more than a stark reminder of his family and his failings. Small wonder he shirked his duties to seek fun and adventure. And now, in the bitterest of ironies, he was in charge of everything he’d once cast aside. And Susannah had returned, too, another link to his regretful past. He craved the abyss that drinking a bit more than he should would bring on. Good thing Paul was coming this evening. He would have someone to drink with, and that was decidedly more cheerful than being alone.
He strode up the drive, his boots crunching on the gravel, preparing to at least get a bit of a head start on Paul.
But—of course, there was a slight hitch in his plans. Paul stood on the front steps, his angular face alight with laughter. “What ho, man? Been to the village to check on Miss Siddons? That’s a gentleman for you.”
“I walk to the village every morning,” Daniel responded evenly, refusing to take Paul’s bait. “You know that.” He brushed past his friend, taking the steps two at a time. He opened the front door and removed his hat and coat. “To what do I owe this dubious honor? Come early to steal a march on me?”
“Ah, well. Life at home is most awfully dull. I decided I would head back to London this week, so I thought you might not mind some early company. Is that all right?”
“Certainly, certainly. The earlier the better.” Daniel ushered Paul through the front door.
“So, if you are determined to stay here, what may I bring you from Town to amuse yourself? A new horse, perhaps? Or a new wife?” Paul cast his hat on the hall bench and stripped off his gloves.
Daniel spun around. “What?” Most of the time Paul’s teasing was tolerable, but now—it struck a bit too close to home to be amusing.
“Here you are with a big country home. Plenty of money. It’s positively un-British that you aren’t seeking a wife.” Paul shrugged his shoulders. “Watching you with Miss Siddons yesterday, it occurred to me that the pair of you made quite a picture.”
“You’re as bad as an old maiden aunt, Paul. Why are you so intent on marrying me off? Are you trying to narrow the competition for the ladies?” He slapped his friend on the shoulder and led the way to the library.
“No, of course not. I’m enjoying the bachelor life whilst I can.” Paul fell silent for a rare moment, a moody expression crossing his face as he settled into a leather chair. Perhaps he’d overstepped his teasing with Paul—perhaps Paul was still really upset about Ruth Barclay. But no, in a blink the expression had vanished, and Paul leaned forward, an incorrigible gleam in his eye. “Though, I must say, Miss Siddons does rather make a fellow want to change his mind.”
Paul was never going to stop nattering on about Susannah. He thought her pretty and would likely try to court her if Daniel didn’t put a stop to the silliness. He eyed his friend as Paul settled back against the cushion. Could he be trusted with a secret?
“You can’t have Susannah Siddons,” he replied evenly. “She’s already spoken for.” There, perhaps that would be enough to throw Paul off the scent.
“Really? How fantastic. I shall have to nose about until I find the fellow. Of course, I could always court one of her sisters. They’re quite tolerable, too.”
Nose about? Paul really was like a hound on the trail. There was nothing for it but to confess the truth to his friend. Only then would the matter cease to worry them both.
“I’m the fellow. Congratulate me, Paul. Susannah Siddons has been my betrothed for these past three years.”
Chapter Three
“Indeed?” Paul quirked an eyebrow with amusement. “If it’s true, then why haven’t you married? And why isn’t she here with you, in Goodwin Hall? Why is she staying in a hovel?”
“’Twas meant as a way to keep her uncle Arthur from forcing her into a marriage she didn’t want. We concocted the plan.” Daniel’s fists clenched at the memory. “Her aunt was browbeating her into marrying some fat, doddering fool of a country squire. And the blackguard spent all their money. She went from being a gentleman’s daughter to an apprentice milliner. Her family left Tansley when she was still a young lass. And her parents died soon after. So within a couple of years after their passing, her life turned upside down.” He heaved a deep sigh.
“And you never married?” Paul shrugged his shoulders. “What happened that kept you apart?”
“We never had a formal plan.” There was no excusing it, or even explaining it. “I never received a letter from her, so I assumed she had found another way out. And I was enjoying my life on the sea. It was a passion of mine.”
“You’ll forgive me for saying so, but you were passionate about the wrong thing entirely,” Paul replied in a tone so dry that Daniel winced. “So, if she’s not your fiancée in truth, then she must be fair game.”
“She’s not one of your light skirts, Paul. She may have to work for
