Page 2 of A Question of Worth

"I have found her a suitable match."

The shock of his words was so great, Susanna almost flung herself down from the window seat so she might rush to her uncle and demand to know what he meant. Instead, she grippedher hands tightly together in her lap and rested her head back against the wall, her eyes closing as her heart pounded furiously in her chest.

"What do you mean by this?" Her father sounded angry rather than relieved, as if somehow, Lord Atherby's actions had been an insult. "Susanna is my responsibility and — "

"And you have failed in that responsibility," Lord Atherby interrupted. "Before she died, my sister begged me to watch over my niece, fearing that you would not do so. She was proven correct, as you cannot deny, and thus, I took on the duty that you had thrown aside. I have found her a suitable match, and the gentleman is willing not only to meet Susanna but to announce their engagement the very same day."

Engaged?

Her eyes opened as she stared up at the wood panelling above her, her heartbeat pounding loudly in her ears. For a moment, she told herself she had misunderstood, that this was all some ridiculous confusion — only to hear her father ask after the gentleman by name.

"Lord Warrington. Is he a Viscount?"

"An Earl."

Susanna's heart lurched violently. A creeping chill crept to the very tips of her fingers until even her breath felt thin and frosted. Pressing her back against the wall, she dragged in air and closed her eyes, fighting a strange rush of panic.

"Why would he be willing to wed Susanna?" There was not only doubt but a hint of disbelief in her father's voice. "Given all you have just stated about my situation and the fact I will be ruined, why would this gentleman eventhinkto consider my daughter?"

"Because he is a good man."

Susanna opened her eyes, a faint ribbon of hope tying itself around her.

"He is a gentleman in need of a wife. A quiet sort, he has no inclination to go to London to find a bride. I told him of my niece, told him of her elegance, her gentle nature and her need of a good match to shield her from what is to come. He has accepted her just as she is, knowing what will follow but aware that her marriage to him will offer her some protection."

Tears burned in Susanna's eyes as she blinked furiously, torn between confusion and relief. It was clear that her uncle trusted this Lord Warrington, that he believed him to be this gentle and kind-hearted, and that had to be qualification enough. It was not what she had hoped for, certainly, for she had longed — as every young lady did — for a time in London at the Season, to make her own decision, to find her own match, but it seemed it was not to be. Her father's decisions had torn that from her, but her uncle's kind consideration offered her hope.

"You will not refuse this."

Susanna closed her eyes, feeling as if those words were spoken as much to her as they were to her father.

"Youcannotrefuse this."

"No," Susanna whispered to herself, tears once more dampening her cheeks. "It seems as though I cannot."

1

Miss Eliza Fairleigh sat with her hands tight in her lap, feeling distinctly uncomfortable. The room was unfamiliar and forbidding, all dark panelling and the hush of a place where grave matters were settled, and she was certain she did not belong in it. She could feel herself watched, a disinclination in the very air that she could not account for and did not know how to ease.

"Eliza, be at peace."

Glancing up at her aunt, Eliza licked her lips and did her best to settle her hands in her lap, knowing she had been twisting her fingers over and over again. A little over a sennight ago, at the very beginning of her arrival in London, she had received a summons to attend a meeting at Braithwaite Solicitors. That had been strange enough; but to have been subsequently informed that the matter concerned the will of the late Lady Susanna Warrington had been all the more perplexing. Lady Warrington had been known to Eliza, yes, but she had never been more than an acquaintance — if she could be called even that! They had been introduced some years ago, before Eliza had made herdebut, and since that time, Eliza had only ever seen the lady in passing.

"I am sure there must be some mistake, Aunt," she whispered, as Lady Newark frowned. "They will soon realize that it is not I who ought to have been summoned, but some other Elizabeth. What mortification that will be!"

Her fingers found the seam of her glove and traced it, thumbnail pressing into the stitching, a thin ridge of thread that was the only solid thing in the room. She closed her eyes, trying to steady herself against the anxiety that threatened to overwhelm her. These last few days had been a torment as she had worried over this meeting, had convinced herself that it had all been some grave mistake and that she would soon be the talk of London — but for all the wrong reasons.

She had thought, somehow, that she would be alone — she and her aunt, and the solicitor. She was not. Two gentlemen were already seated when she was shown in, and from the cut of their coats and the ease with which they occupied the room, she understood at once that they belonged here in a way she did not. She knew neither of them. But she could see, in the way they looked at her, that her presence was no more comprehensible to them than it was to her — and a good deal less welcome.

Lady Newark leaned slightly toward her and lowered her voice. "You are doing just as you have been instructed. To have stayed away from this would have been most unwise."

Eliza swallowed at the tightness in her throat and made herself look. The elder of the two — though he was not so very old, she saw on a second glance; it was only the severity of his expression that aged him — was frowning in her direction, his gaze sharp and measuring, as if he had been weighing her since she sat down. The younger man beside him leaned to murmur something, and she could read in the tilt of his head, the way his eyes flicked to her and then away, that the murmur concernedher. She looked back down at her hands. She did not need to be told what they thought of her presence here. She could feel it pressing at her from across the room.

Mr. Arthur Braithwaite settled himself behind his desk and drew a single sheet from the top of his papers.

"Thank you for coming so promptly, Miss Fairleigh." His half-moon spectacles glinted as he looked from her to the gentlemen and back. "I have asked Lord Ashcombe and his brother to attend, as the matter I am to lay before you touches upon their family — and Lady Warrington's wishes were quite particular that it be heard by all whom it concerns."

Eliza drew her reticule against her stomach and held it there with both hands, and prayed that he would soon bring an end to her torment — either by clarifying what it was that required her presence or by making it clear that there had been some sort of error.