Jasper went out for his usual early walk, but this time turned his steps towards Sydney Gardens, determined that he would not even look to see if Miss Prentess’s carriage left the city that morning.
* * *
He returned to York House for breakfast and spent the next few hours at the desk replying to his steward and writing various letters. The afternoon was well advanced by the time he applied his seal to the last letter, and when Jasper glanced at the clock he was surprised to find it was so late. It had become something of a habit for Gerald to call in York House each afternoon, if they had not met earlier in the day, to discuss plans for the evening. Jasper shrugged. He was not his cousin’s keeper. Gerald was of age, after all, and had gone on very well in Bath before his arrival. Jasper finished his letters and called for Peters to bring his hat and cane: he would call upon Gerald at his lodgings in Westgate Buildings and invite him to dinner.
* * *
In the event Jasper never reached Gerald’s abode, nor did he issue the invitation. He had stopped in Milsom Street. It was in his mind to buy a little gift to send down to his godson at Rooks Tower, but his attention was caught by a reflection in the toyshop window. The shop was on the shady side of the street, so the image from the far side of the road was particularly clear. Gerald had emerged from the jewellers and paused to pull on his gloves. Jasper turned and was about to hail his cousin when he noticed the veiled figure of a lady being ushered out of the shop with much bowing by a black-coated assistant. It was obvious to Jasper that Gerald was waiting for the lady. He held out his arm to her, but before setting off she put up her veil to display the lovely countenance of Susannah Prentess.
Jasper froze. Susannah slipped her hand through Gerald’s arm and they set off down the street. There was such a warm smile on her face that Jasper felt winded. He stepped back, almost reeling from the sudden bolt of jealousy that shot through him.
The low sun was shining upon them and they did not notice him watching from the shadows. Had Gerald proposed again, had he been accepted? No. He could not believe it. He would not believe it until he had spoken to his cousin. With an effort he forced his unwilling feet to carry him onwards. His brain seethed with conjecture, but he refused to admit his worst fears. He wandered about the town, visiting the Pump Room and the circulating library, but nothing could satisfy his restless spirit. He called at the White Hart but discovered that Charles Camerton had gone out. No matter, Charles was joining him for dinner, so he would see him then. However, as he turned his steps once more towards his hotel he saw Gerald walking down High Street towards him. He was somewhat reassured by the way Gerald hailed him cheerfully, but after they had exchanged greetings, Jasper could not resist telling him that he had seen him earlier.
‘You were outside the jewellers with Miss Prentess. Would you like to tell me what that was about?’
‘Actually, I am not at liberty to say at the moment.’ Gerald’s boyish face flushed. ‘I promised Susannah.’
‘I see.’ Jasper’s jaw clenched at the familiar use of her name and there was a hollow ache in his stomach.
‘It is nothing terrible,’ Gerald hurried on, watching him anxiously.
Jasper forced a smile to his lips.
‘If that is the case then why can you not tell me?’
Gerald looked uncomfortable.
‘It is just that I know Mama would not approve. She might quiz you, and if you do not know, then you cannot tell her anything, can you?’
‘Gerald—’
His cousin cut him short.
‘Will you be at the Crescent this evening? I will ask Susannah. If she is willing, I will tell you then. I promise. For now you must excuse me, I am on an errand.’
‘Come and dine with me tonight,’ said Jasper. ‘Charles Camerton will be there, we can go on to the Crescent together.’
Gerald shook his head.
‘I am sorry, Jasper, I should like to join you, but I do not think I will be back in time.’
‘Why, where are you going?’
‘I told you, an errand,’ was all the answer Gerald would give before he dashed off, leaving Jasper prey to such a fierce anger that for several minutes he remained rooted to the spot. An engagement. It had to be. It was the only thing that could account for Gerald’s odd speech, and the happiness he had seen in both their faces earlier. Clutching his cane, Jasper strode angrily back to York House. She had tricked him. Why should he be surprised? She had told him her actions were no concern of his, but Gerald was his concern. Damnation, he was head of the family. How dare she make Gerald act in this underhand manner!
* * *
By the time Charles Camerton arrived for dinner Jasper’s rage was contained. Outwardly he was smiling, urbane, but it still burned, a steady, simmering fury inside him. Years of training came to his aid, allowing him to converse with seeming normality during the meal, but he tasted nothing of the dishes set before him and allowed his glass to be refilled more than normal.
Only when the covers were removed and the servants had withdrawn did he allow himself to think back over his day.
‘I looked for you at the White Hart today, Charles, and you were not in the Pump Room. Did you go out of town?’
‘Yes. It was such a fine day I took Mrs Logan for a drive.’
‘Really?’
Charles shrugged. ‘Just being friendly, you know.’
‘I hope you are not developing a tendre there, Charles. I shall require you to be on winning form again at the Crescent tonight.’
Charles refilled his brandy glass.
‘I am more than happy to accompany you there, Markham, but I am not sure your plan is necessary. I have been watching your cousin. He does not seem in any danger of making a cake of himself over La Prentess.
At least, no more than any of the other young bucks who are fashionably in love with her.’
‘I wish I could agree with you.’ Jasper pushed back his chair. ‘I plan to leave Bath soon, but before I do I want to make sure Gerald is in no danger.’
‘Very well then.’ Charles rose and followed him to the door. ‘Let us to the Crescent, by all means.’
Jasper escorted him out of the hotel. During the meal he had convinced himself that there was only one way to protect Gerald from that scheming woman: he would have to seduce her.
* * *
Susannah gazed about her with satisfaction. The drawing room looked very welcoming, the curtains were pulled against the darkness and the cheerful fire kept the icy weather at bay so effectively that she did not need to wear a shawl over the flowing creation Odesse had fashioned for her. The apricot silk was embroidered at the neck and sleeves with a pattern of vine leaves, the detail cleverly picked out in silver thread to catch the candlelight. She heard the distant rumble of voices. The first guests were arriving. Almost upon the thought Mrs Wilby hurried in.
‘Is everything ready, my love? Tables set, new packs of cards... I have told Gatley to have plenty of mulled wine available for our guests as it is such a cold night.’ She looked about her. ‘Where is Mrs Logan?’
‘She sent me word she might be a little late. She went out driving this afternoon.’
‘Oh, with whom?’
‘She did not say.’ It was true, but Susannah suspected she had been in the company of Mr Camerton. She had seen them talking together after the Sunday service at the Abbey, and although Kate would tell her nothing, her smile had been very self-satisfied. She wondered if the widow had formed an attachment, then quickly dismissed the idea. Kate might smile and flirt with the men she encountered but Susannah knew it was a charade. Kate had often voiced her opinion of the male sex. They were at best deceivers, selfish brutes who cared for nothing but their own pleasure. It was much more likely that she was, to use Kate’s own phrase, keeping Mr Camerton sweet in the hopes of winning his money from him this evening.
‘Well, I hope she will not be too long,’ muttered Mrs Wilby. ‘We need her to run one of the tables.’
> There was no time for more. General and Mrs Sanstead were announced and after that there was a steady stream of arrivals. Susannah organised four guests at a whist table, found a partner to play picquet with Major Crommelly, explaining to him that she was unable to do so as she had to help her aunt entertain all the guests. Later, she gave in to the pleas of a group of young gentlemen to sit down with them to play a noisy game of vingt-et-un. She laughed and joked and flirted gently with them all, making sure that not one of them lost more than fifty pounds. Of course she could not dictate to her guests when they played amongst themselves, but it was her strict rule, and she insisted that her aunt and Kate Logan kept to it, despite many of the younger men bragging how much they could lose in one sitting at other houses.
* * *
She was pleased when Kate arrived and she could leave the table and tour the room, making sure that every one of her guests was occupied. No one would guess from her smiles and serene countenance that her mind was elsewhere, that she was watching the clock, and wondering what time Gerald Barnabus might arrive.
There was the bustle of another arrival and Susannah looked up hopefully. It was with mixed feelings that she saw Lord Markham and Mr Camerton walk in. Aunt Maude was already near the door to welcome them so Susannah made no attempt to approach. She watched Mr Camerton seek out Mrs Logan and join her table, while the viscount was persuaded to sit down with his hostess for a game of loo. Susannah could relax a little, at least until the game broke up and she saw the viscount crossing the room towards her.
The tug of attraction was as strong as ever. He moved between the tables with lithe grace, his tall, athletic form clad in the uniform black evening coat and black knee-breeches. She was forcibly reminded of a hunting panther.
And she was the prey.
Shaking off such nonsensical notions Susannah greeted him coolly, which he did not seem to notice. Her hand went automatically into his grasp without her even realising it. As he bowed she gazed at his dark head, trying to calm the fierce tattoo that was beating within her breast as his lips skimmed her fingers. It was as much as she could do to stand still. She must talk to Kate about what these sensations might mean—some instinct told her that Aunt Wilby would not give her an honest answer.
‘Miss Prentess.’ He straightened, subjecting her to that glinting smile. There was something else in his eyes, a dangerous recklessness that did nothing to calm her pulse. She withdrew her fingers, resisting the urge to cradle them in her other hand. She must act naturally, to treat him as she would any other guest.
‘Are you tired of Lanterloo, my lord?’
‘For the moment. I came to see if you would play picquet with me.’
She managed a soft laugh.
‘You know I will not, my lord.’
‘Then for the moment I shall be an observer.’
‘As you wish.’ He made no attempt to move out of her way. ‘How long do you intend to remain in Bath, my lord?’
‘That depends.’
‘Upon what?’
As soon as the words were uttered she knew she had fallen into his trap. He turned his dark eyes upon her again. She had no doubt that those handsome features and charming smile had undone many a young lady. Flirting with the other young gentlemen of Bath had always seemed an innocent, harmless pastime, but with Lord Markham no remark was ever innocent or harmless. Once again she found breathing difficult, she knew the colour was fluctuating in her cheeks. She wanted to move closer to that lean, muscular body and it was almost a physical effort to keep her distance.
‘Mr Barnabus!’
The butler’s sonorous announcement could not have been better timed.
She blinked, as if woken from a trance, and with a hurried ‘excuse me!’ she stepped past him and moved swiftly across the room.
‘Mr Barnabus.’ She held out her hands to him. ‘You are very welcome.’ She leaned a little closer, saying quietly, ‘Well? Have you been to Florence House?’
He squeezed her hands.
‘Yes. You may be easy. I have seen Tyler and given him the money. He will begin the new work next week.’
Susannah gave a little sigh of relief, her smile growing.
‘Thank you, I can never tell you how grateful I am to you.’ She tucked her hand into his arm and led him further into the room.
‘I see my cousin is here,’ he remarked. ‘Would it—?’ He stopped, looking about to make sure he could not be overheard. ‘I do not like to keep things from him. May I tell him where I have been, why I am so late?’
‘Oh good heavens, no!’ she gasped, horrified.
‘But Jasper is a great gun. I am sure he would understand—’
‘And I am sure he would not.’ She laid her hand on his sleeve, saying urgently, ‘Please, Gerald, on no account would I have the viscount know anything about this.’ When he looked uncertain she added, ‘You promised. When I explained to you about Florence House, you gave me your word that you would not tell a soul.’
‘Oh very well, Susannah, if you insist.’
‘I do.’ She squeezed his arm. ‘Thank you, Gerald. Now what can I do to reward you? Shall we play at macao together?’
* * *
Jasper watched the little scene from across the room. There was no doubting her pleasure in seeing his cousin, and the boy was as besotted as ever. He had noticed when he had kissed her hand that she wore no rings—why should they keep their betrothal a secret? They were both of age and Gerald’s nature was so open, so honest, that he would abhor any subterfuge. His eyes narrowed. It must come from the lady, then. She had secrets, and in his book that made her an unsuitable match for his young cousin.
He looked around for Charles Camerton and saw him sitting at a small table with Mrs Logan. From the pile of coins at his elbow Jasper guessed that he was winning. That was very good. Now he, too, must continue with his plan.
* * *
‘How goes it, Aunt?’
Susannah took advantage of a break in the play to speak to Mrs Wilby. The lady shook her head, making the lilac ostrich feathers on her turban tremble.
‘Badly,’ she muttered as she collected up the used cards. ‘Lord Markham has taken two hundred off me already.’
‘And Kate tells me she has just lost fifty pounds to his friend.’ Susannah frowned.
‘I have never known luck like it,’ continued Aunt Maude. ‘I admit I am loath to have the viscount play at my table again.’
‘Then what do you propose I do with him?’ Susannah felt the smile tugging at her mouth, despite the gravity of the situation.
‘I do not know, my love, but I pray you will come up with something. He has made me so nervous that I cannot think clearly, and that, you know, is fatal to our success.’
Susannah was well aware of it. One needed a clear head if one was to succeed at card games. She hoped he would play at whist with Major Crommelly and the Sansteads, at least then any losses would not be hers, but the viscount seemed determined to play against Aunt Maude. Susannah watched as he won another game of loo and pocketed his winnings. A few pounds—a hundred at most. A paltry sum to Lord Markham, but Susannah was well aware that the losses this evening were mounting up. Thus, when the viscount asked if he might take her down to supper she agreed, reasoning that anything she could do to keep him away from her aunt would give that lady some welcome relief. However, as soon as he pulled her hand on to his arm she began to have doubts about the wisdom of being alone with him.
‘Perhaps we should ask Mrs Logan and Mr Camerton if they would like to join us...’
‘I have already ascertained that they would not.’ Something of her disappointment must have shown in her face for he smiled. ‘I vow, ma’am, I begin to think you are afraid of being alone with me.’
‘Nonsense. Why should that be?’
‘My reputation, perhaps?’
‘I know nothing of your reputation, Lord Markham. Is it so very bad?’
‘Perfectly dreadful,’ he replied cheerfully. �
��At least it is in London. I am relieved that no one here knows of it.’
She stopped as a sudden worry assailed her.
‘And just what is your reputation for, my lord—gambling?’
‘No. Breaking hearts.’ Again his smiling eyes teased her. He covered her hand with his own and held it on his sleeve. ‘Do you wish to run away from me now?’
Susannah’s chin went up.
‘I do not run away from anything, my lord.’
It was still early and the supper room was empty save for the servants. The viscount guided her to a table at the far end of the room.
Where we will not be overheard.
She stifled the thought. This was her house, her staff were in attendance. No harm could come to her here. The viscount insisted she sit down and went off to fill a plate for her. Susannah looked at the table, playing with the napkins and the cutlery. She would not watch him: she was all too aware of the graceful power of his movements. She would be better gathering her wits. The viscount had an uncanny knack of disconcerting her, she must be on her guard.
Susannah kept her eyes lowered until he returned and placed before her a plate filled with little delicacies.
‘I congratulate you, Lord Markham. I gave you leave to choose for me, and I believe there is nothing here that I do not like.’
He slipped into the seat opposite and picked up his napkin.
‘I took the opportunity to ask your estimable butler for his advice.’
Behind the Rake's Wicked Wager Page 9
