The Earl Steals a Heart

Stephens nodded.

“Will you be needing any further services from me, Miss Wingfield?”

Susan bit her lip, thinking about it for a moment before she answered.

“No, I do not believe so. Thank you. I will ensure that the agreed payment – and a little more – is delivered to you within the day.”

“In that case, I will take my leave. Good day, Miss Wingfield, Lady Gainsbourne. If you are ever in need of the Bow Street Runners again, you know where to find us.”

He gave a quick, courteous bow, then let himself out of the library and disappeared, leaving Susan alone with her mother.

“Mama?”

Susan’s voice was small and trembling, sounding more childish and uncertain than it had in many years.

Lady Gainsbourne reached over and laced her fingers with her daughter’s, giving them a gentle squeeze.

“What is it, dear one?”

“I… I don’t know what to do about the Count. I do not know whether to confront him about the rumour, or if I should wait until Edward gets home from Galleon Chase so that I can ask him for advice. I—” Susan’s voice broke, and she shook her head. “I just don’t know.”

Lady Gainsbourne brushed a gentle kiss against her daughter’s cheek.

“If I were you, I would not make any decisions right now. You are obviously overwhelmed and upset, and it would not be a good idea — I think — to make any decisions when you are so distressed. Wait until you can think clearly.”

“That is good advice, Mama. Thank you.”

Susan sighed and her heart ached, as if there was a fist clenched around it, trying to squeeze the life out of her. She wasn’t at all sure she would ever be able to think clearly again, especially after Lord Seabury’s abrupt exit from Lady Walcot’s Ball. It was all too much to bear.

She gently tugged her fingers out of her mother’s grip and left the library, lost in the tempest of her thoughts. Susan trudged up to her bedroom, wishing to be alone so that she could sort out her feelings about what Mr. Stephens had revealed. Silently, she sank down on the edge of her bed and stared out of the bedroom window with unseeing eyes.

Should she confront Lord D’Asti about his debts? About the rumour? About both? Should she wait and let Edward address it?

And what about Lord Seabury? She wanted so desperately to reach out to him, to let him know that the Count D’Asti was surely only pursuing her as a means to an end. Would Lord Seabury even see her, much less listen to what she had to say?

After the way he had ignored her and stormed out of Lady Walcot’s Ball after his dance with Lady Henrietta Gale, Susan rather doubted that she would have any opportunity to speak to him. Even if she did manage to speak with him long enough to reveal what she had learned about the Count D’Asti, there was no guarantee that he would listen or care, and that thought broke her heart.

Hot tears stung Susan’s eyes and burned a scalding path down her pale cheeks, and she slumped back against her pillows, allowing the sorrow and frustration she felt to overtake her. She did something then that she had not done since the night her father died. She cried herself to sleep.