Desperately Seeking Suzanna (16 page)

“Do they? Is that why you never want to dance with me?”

“No. But that would have been an excellent excuse. I’ll have to remember to use it the next time you ask me.” She laughed. “I suppose that wouldn’t be in good taste, though.”

“Refusing me a dance? I quite agree.”

“No, referencing aching feet to a gentleman. Come to think of it, I shouldn’t have said anything about toes—wiggling or twitching. That was wrong.”

“It’s only wrong if I’m offended. I rather enjoyed the thought of your toes wiggling. Scandalous! Next thing you know, I’ll have you barefoot in the grass.”

“Only if you brought some smelling salts for my mother.”

He bit back a smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he looked at her. “I must have left them in my other coat. She’ll wake eventually, and the ground is soft this time of year.”

“To bury our toes in?”

“To prevent injury when your mother collapses. But also for our toes.” He laughed.

“I can hear my mother now: ‘I told you, never make mention of your person or any ailments associated with your person. And what do you do, Sue Green? You discuss being shoeless out of doors with a gentleman!’ Apparently I say all the wrong things in conversation. You know, I was raked over the coals for what I said to you over ices that day.”

His brow wrinkled with thought. “About art?”

“No, when I asked about your mother. And now I’ve gone and mentioned her again. That’s awful of me. Sometimes I say things before I can think better of them. My apologies. I’ll be in hot water indeed over repeating this offense.”

“I won’t tell. And I didn’t mind before. If I recall, you only asked after my well-being in reference to her passing anyway. Surely that’s allowable.”

“No. Horribly inappropriate…or so I’ve been told.”

He shrugged and looked off into the hedgerow. “She’s been gone since I was a small child. And by all accounts she wasn’t the maternal sort to begin with.”

The silence following his statement surrounded them. Sue didn’t dare break it. For once, she kept her mouth closed. There were only traces of pain in his voice, hidden by years of apathy. But still she knew he hurt in a place so deep that he would never allow anyone to see. Except in this moment. Would he let her see it?

“I’ve always wondered what it would have been like, what life is like in other families,” he mused. “Games, picnics, and such… My father wasn’t fond of anything that might be considered enjoyable. Thought I needed a firm hand, a hard line, and all that.

“We never saw eye to eye. I left England for France after I finished school and never saw him again. And the world has been a more cheerful place for his absence. Ah, if I could only keep it that way.” He let out a derisive laugh and shook his head.

“Oh.” Another moment of silence fell between them before she asked, “Was it all bad?”

“France was lovely.” He tossed a wry grin in her direction.

She searched his eyes, looking for answers. “I meant when you were a boy. Was it so terrible?”

“No. Only the parts when I was at home. My holidays with friends were quite nice. And life with my aunt and uncle…well, you see where I sit now.”

“I wonder if your father was always that way—stern. I’ve often wondered if my parents were always as they are now or if I somehow broke them.” She tossed him a warm smile to ease the tension of their conversation.

“I can remember glimpses from before my mother…before my brother, but…” He shook his head.

“You have a brother?” How had a detail like that slipped past her mother? “I’ve never heard mention of him.”

“That’s because Sam passed away when he was only seven years of age. I was four.”

“That’s dreadful.”

“You have no idea.” He tried to brush the conversation away with a casual smile and a wave of his hand.

There was so much more to Holden than what appeared on the surface. She would never have guessed from his devil-may-care appearance that he had such a dark past. She shook her head. “He was older than you? That must have made receiving your title rather painful.”

“I was young. I try not to think about it now.” He gazed into her upturned face, making her heart beat faster. “I can remember playing with him in the nursery. He was always fair, even though I was younger. He would have been a good lord. Honest and honorable. Much better than I am.” He turned away with a grimace.

“I’m sure that’s not true. You’re quite honorable. Well, mostly.”

The corner of his mouth turned up as he glanced her way, his gaze remaining there for a perilous moment.

She was now in danger of falling headlong into those green eyes. She cleared her throat and cast her eyes across the garden for a moment. “He passed away around the same time as your mother? Was it a fever?”

Holden nodded uncomfortably. “Something like that.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I remember seeing him there on the parlor floor with my mother holding him. Everything changed that day. Sam was gone. My mother…” He swore and looked away.

“That must have been dreadful.”

“I saw the entire incident. I didn’t understand it at the time, but I watched as…” His head lifted for his gaze to meet hers. “I’ve never spoken of this to anyone. And I shouldn’t begin now.” He ran a hand through his hair, tossing it on end before dropping his arms to his knees and slumping forward. “What am I about today? I’m not myself. I apologize. I should go.”

He shifted to stand, but she stopped him with a light touch to his arm. The wool of his coat was warm under her fingers as she gently squeezed his forearm. He glanced down at her hand and she felt his muscles twitch under her grasp. It was hardly a strong enough grip to hold him back if he truly wished to leave, yet it seemed to settle him back onto the bench beside her. His eyes lifted to hers, pain warring with confusion in the emerald depths.

When she opened her mouth to speak, her voice felt small. How could she help him? She wasn’t big enough or grand enough for this task, and yet… “Tell me. Please, I want to know.”

“You don’t want to know about me. Not really.”

“Yes, I do.”

He searched her face for a moment before he spoke. “At four, I watched my brother take his last breath.” His normally good-natured, deep voice was pounded flat by the truth he told. “He died that day because of me.”

“How can you think that? You were a child.”

He nodded. “I was. And I believe now that was how it occurred. My mother lost a child in birth when I was but three years old. She never recovered from it. So when she saw my brother hit me…the youngest, her baby…” He shrugged and shook his head.

“I wasn’t hurt, but she wouldn’t listen.” He exhaled in a harsh puff of air.

“Are you saying your mother killed your brother in an attempt to protect you?”

“She was ill.”

“You are not to blame.”

She wasn’t sure at what point in his story she’d slid her hand down his arm to wrap her hand around his, but she glanced down to find their fingers entwined now. She should move. She should remove her hand from his grasp. Instead she squeezed his hand and laid her other hand on his forearm, attempting to rub the tension away.

With his story came understanding. A few of the missing pieces that made him whole snapped together in her mind. Not all of them, but enough for now. “Your father can’t honestly hold you responsible for such a thing.”

“I can’t believe I told you any of this. What is it about you?” He glanced down at their joined hands, pulling away as if burned. Flexing his fingers for a moment, his gaze returned to her face with an intensity she hadn’t seen since they’d met on the stairs that night.

“Holden.” Her mouth went dry and she licked her lips. “This is why you try as you do to play the disreputable rake.”

“Might we return to the subject of wiggling toes?” His breathing seemed harsh as he looked at her.

“You wish to confirm your father’s presumptions about you. You try to sink to his expectations. I can’t say I blame you. I suppose…”

Unexpected warmth flooded her senses as he reached up to frame her face with his hands, pulling her closer. His kiss was harsh, punishing, but with a desperation she matched. She heard a startled whimper escape her throat as his lips moved over hers. Her hands fluttered in the air for a moment before landing on his chest. He pulled back, watching her. There was an awareness in his eyes that she didn’t quite trust, as if he remembered something he’d forgotten long ago.

Her lips parted in question, yet she had too many thoughts to ask. He’d released her lips but his hands held her head still. His thumbs brushed against the wisps of fallen hair at her temples.

Blinking up into dark green eyes and lips she wanted back on hers, she tugged on his lapels until his mouth met hers once more. He chuckled, the rough sound vibrating through her, only to be soothed by the softness of his mouth. His tongue traced the lines of her lips until she opened to him, allowing him in. Time must have passed but she was unaware of anything beyond his lips on hers.

His hands slid to the back of her neck as he tasted her, his warm skin heating hers more than a thousand suns. His lips slashed over hers, pulling her deepest desires from her, then delving for more. Exposed, in need, she bit at his bottom lip, dragging him into the spiral of longing with her. As if in a battle where neither side would surrender, she matched every movement he made. She’d learned. Whether he knew it or not, he’d been her teacher. Her hands were inside his coat now, splayed on his chest and slipping further around him with every passing second.

Nearness. That’s what she needed.

His body pressed close to hers. His hand moved down her neck, sliding down her back to rest on her hip. He pulled away with a lazy smile, his eyes darting across the garden. “Where’s a bedchamber when you need one?”

“Holden, we shouldn’t.”

“Yes, actually I believe we should.” He pulled her in for one more kiss, leaving her flustered, confused, and giddy.

She touched her fingers to her lips as he pulled away. He’d kissed her. Not Suzanna, her! Sue Green!

“For someone who hasn’t danced a quadrille before, you certainly are experienced,” he mused.

“You. Only you,” she whispered. Had she spoken aloud or only in her mind?

“You have the most intriguing mouth. I feel as if we’ve kissed many times over, and yet I
know
we haven’t.” A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he spoke, making her want to kiss him again. “Everything about you feels quite familiar. I wish I could put my finger on what it is. Like the memory of a dream that vanishes before you can truly enjoy it.”

Did he remember her? She had to tell him. Enough secrecy and lies. She needed to tell him she was Suzanna. “Holden, there’s something you should know.”

“I was only trying to make you stop talking, but I’m glad I did. That was quite unexpected, although I should have guessed. You are a passionate artist, so it stands to reason you would be passionate in other areas as well.” He was grinning a broad smile that lit his eyes and made them crinkle at the corners.

She shoved him on the shoulder and stood to leave. “Only trying to make me stop talking?” He’d shared intimate details of his childhood. They’d had a tender moment! And he was in the mood to tell jokes? The blasted man!

“Wait. Sue, don’t go. I didn’t mean that the way it sounded.”

“I will see you at the Habernes’ garden party where, you will be relieved to hear, there will be no dancing. I suppose you will be forced to wait for another event for me to refuse you another dance.”

Her cheeks were flushed, and it seemed as if her darkest secrets were written there. Shaking out her skirts, she took a steadying breath. He didn’t care for her. He’d only shown her a small crack in his armor—most likely he hadn’t intended even that much. He’d wanted a diversion in the garden to improve his mood and she’d been convenient. She took a step away from him, only daring to look back for one quick glance.

Unfortunately the quick glance turned into a long glance.

There was something in his eyes, some emotion she couldn’t read. All she knew was that there was some connection between the two of them, whether he thought it just a dalliance in the garden or not. “I’ll see you at the Habernes’ event all the same.” She ripped her gaze from his and sped from the garden as fast as her legs would carry her.

***

His morning ride had thus far done nothing toward the goal of clearing his mind. Perhaps some sense would eventually settle into his mind, but it was clearly not going to occur today. At the moment there was quite a bit to consider.

He shook his head and increased his speed leaving the park. His mother’s presence threatened everything he’d built in London. His father’s return to his life had set his nerves on edge. And then there was Sue, kissing him like she was trained by the entire demimonde, and in doing so, proclaiming the truth he suspected. That last bit had the strongest hold on him at the moment.

Suzanna was Sue. Sue was Suzanna. Or there never was a Suzanna, and Sue had always been Sue. However he flipped the information, it still brought him back to the same thought: What was he to do now?

He tightened his grip on Muley’s reins as he left Hyde Park, heading down the street away from his home. Sue hadn’t admitted her secret to him so he couldn’t have an honest conversation with her yet. Therefore, all of his questions stewed in his mind like poorly cooked soup.

She’d been there. She’d been there all along.

It was no wonder Sue had spent so much time angry with him. He’d seen her that night, too. He’d asked her to find…her. He’d pushed past her to find…her. Then he’d gone to her cousins to find…her. And all along it was her. Always her.

He urged Muley down the street to the speed of his racing thoughts. How could he ever make amends for his oversight? Could he? This was why she’d refused all his charm. And he’d gone and followed her about, asking for dances when she must want nothing more than for him to leave. He’d pushed her out of the way that night in search of a fantasy. Suzanna wasn’t real. She never had been. Sue, on the other hand…

He shook his head. He was back to wondering what to do now—again. Perhaps if he could coax a confession out of her, they could discuss things. One thing he knew for certain was that secrets had to be confessed in the guilty party’s time. If a secret was let loose too early, “everything will crash down,” he muttered to himself.