The Wild Baron (Baron 1)

“Then I don’t want Toby to go.”

He’d nailed himself to the floor with that one. An excellent representative of his gender, he said, “I will think about it.”

They were expecting thirty neighbors that warm moonlit evening. Rohan was pacing the entryway, looking alternately up the stairs for Susannah and gazing at his mother, who was turned out beautifully, her glorious blond hair piled atop her head with long curls down her neck and a pale peach silk gown slithering over her body. One of the footmen was so taken when he saw her that he dropped the dreadfully ugly epergne that had sat for years in the center of the huge dining table.

Where was Susannah? Then he heard someone clear his throat, loudly. It was Toby, standing at the top of the stairs. “Rohan? Milady? Are you ready?”

There was a squeak behind Toby and a wail. “Oh, Toby, how could you?”

“A fanfare,” Rohan said loudly. “Commence.” He laughed, waiting. Then she appeared beside Toby. Rohan didn’t move. Actually, he didn’t think he could have in any case. He could only stare at her. “Susannah?” His voice sounded low and rusty. He continued to stare at her, at each step she took, bringing her closer and closer to him.

She walked down the stairs so carefully and slowly that he wondered if she was wearing new slippers and they pinched her feet. She’d sworn to him that she was no longer sore or dizzy.

“I am pleased,” Charlotte said. “I shall compliment Sabine myself, although she knows she is a genius.”

“Oh, my God,” Rohan said, though he hadn’t meant to say anything of the kind. He’d seen dozens of women more beautiful than Susannah, but for the life of him they had just disappeared without a trace from his mind.

She stopped dead in her tracks, looking him in the face for the first time. She ran her tongue over her bottom lip. “I look all right? It’s your mother’s gown, but she assured me that the color suited me. I have never worn anything of this shade of blue. Is it too light? Too dark? It is a wonderful gown. I’ve never had anything so very lovely. Sabine arranged my hair for me. Is it all right? Do you like all the braids and twists and things?”

He got a hold on himself. “I like that shade of blue and the matching ribbon in your hair. You look acceptable. Yes, fine. Are you ready? I believe I hear our first guests arriving. Mother, come here and give everyone a sweet smile and tell poor Susannah that she won’t scare our guests away.”

“Yes, dearest. You have not shamed me, Susannah.”

“Thank you, Charlotte.”

“Where is Marianne? She finally let you go?”

Susannah smiled then, although she was so nervous she wanted to faint. “I promised her cook’s apple tarts if she would let go of my ankle.”

Toby, garbed entirely in black, just like Rohan, laughed, shaking his head. “Marianne’s a little pig. I asked her if she wanted Susannah or an apple tart and she shouted, ‘Tart,’ at the top of her lungs.”

“That sounds interesting,” Charlotte said.

Lord and Lady Dauntry were the first to arrive. Rohan liked Lord Dauntry, a man who tended his lands well and treated his tenants fairly. He was lucky in his offspring, but his wife was another matter. She controlled her husband, her four daughters, her two sons, and even the pretentious Mrs. Gibbs, a local matron who could trace her roots to the Conqueror. Rohan was also of the belief that Lady Dauntry could very probably fillet a fish with her tongue without stopping her conversation.

He didn’t realize how much of another matter Lady Dauntry was until nearly midway through the evening. Dinner had gone quite nicely, and the dancing had begun.

Rohan danced a cotillion with Susannah, then danced a country reel with his mother. Everyone had treated Susannah with a good deal of curiosity. He picked up some talk about the kidnapping and how he had ridden up to Mountvale House with her naked and sitting on his lap. He’d expected that kind of exaggeration. On the whole, he was rather proud of his neighbors. At least most of their talk was behind their hands. They were polite to Susannah when they weren’t talking about her.

He watched her dancing with Amos Mortimer, a rather desiccated older gentleman who raised pigs, not for market but as pets. She danced beautifully. As for Mr. Mortimer, though his thin legs looked barely capable of holding him upright, he could dance and he did it well.

It was nearly midnight when Toby caught him at the end of a country reel. “Hurry! Hurry, Rohan! They’ve got Susannah and I think they’re going to bury her. She looks ready to spit. She also looks ready to fall over. Most of the powder’s off her face and you can see the bruises. Hurry, you’ve got to stop it. You’re the only one who can stop it.”

“Who? Stop what? What are you talking about, Toby?” But Toby was already running out of the ballroom and up the stairs, Rohan on his heels. Had the man escaped? Had he captured Susannah?

Toby skidded to a halt in front of the open door of the ladies’ withdrawing room. He waved to Rohan, his finger pressed against his lips.

13

“I AM TRULY MUCH BETTER NOW, MA’AM,” SUSANNAH said easily enough to Mrs. Hackles, but to Rohan’s ears she sounded ready to scream. “You are so kind to inquire about my health. I admit that I was a bit shaky for a little while.”

Lady Dauntry had sent in her troops to soften up the enemy. Now she was primed to advance, her cannon all lined up and ready to fire. She gave Susannah a sweet and quite deadly look. “I see that dear Charlotte managed to cover the bruises on your face.”

“Yes.”

The three ladies were circle

d around her, between her and the door. This was odd. What did they want? Lady Dauntry continued, “As for the rest of it, I believe you were perhaps dancing a bit on the fast side with young Peter Briar, the poor boy. He really isn’t quite up to snuff—your sort of snuff, that is.”