‘The rumour mill in Bath is quite inexhaustible, Miss Prentess. You may know, Mrs Wilby, that I am very interested in such causes. I would like to help you.’
Aunt Maude threw an anguished glance towards Susannah, who replied cautiously, ‘That is very gracious of you, ma’am, but I am not sure...’
‘Oh come, ladies, I have not been in Bath long but one visit to the Pump Room was sufficient for me to know that your little scheme has set up the backs of the Walcot Street committee. Will you deny that your present funding is inadequate?’
‘No, we will not deny that,’ replied Susannah.
‘Good.’ The dowager put down her cane. ‘Then let us discuss it!’
* * *
When at last Lady Gisburne had been shown out, Mrs Wilby fell back in her chair.
‘Heavens, my head is fairly spinning.’
‘I admit she is a very forceful personality,’ agreed Susannah, smiling slightly, ‘but her patronage—and her money!—will be most welcome.’
‘But can we believe her when she says she will leave the control of Florence House in our hands?’
‘Oh, I think so, but that is something we can go over once the papers are drawn up.’ Susanna stood by the window, watching the dowager being helped into her carriage. ‘I liked her plain speaking. She is very knowledgeable about how we should proceed. With Lady Gisburne as patroness I think the future of Florence House is assured.’
‘And Odesse,’ added Mrs Wilby. ‘My lady agreed we should not make her connection with Florence House public knowledge, but she was keen to see her work.’
Susannah chuckled.
‘From the prodigious amount of lace on the dowager’s gown, her patronage alone should bring plenty of work for the modiste and the lace-makers.’ She turned back to her aunt. ‘It is a great relief to me,’ she admitted. ‘I do not mind if Bath society shuns me, but the thought of not being able to support the house, or the girls—’ She broke off, shaking her head to dispel the tears
that threatened.
‘Well,’ declared Mrs Wilby, taking up her sewing again. ‘I believe with the Dowager Countess of Gisburne as an acquaintance, Bath society will not dare to shun us!’
* * *
And so it proved. On Sunday the Dowager had attended the morning service at the Abbey and once she had acknowledged Susannah and her aunt, others followed suit, even Mrs Bulstrode and Mrs Farthing, although it was clearly an effort. A visit to Henrietta Street on Monday was also encouraging.
‘I have had no one ask me about Florence House,’ said Odesse, going to fetch a large box from a shelf. ‘And this morning, I received a visit from a most superior personage: a dowager countess, no less. She has ordered a new morning gown and hinted that she might place even more business with me, if I can turn it round quickly. Thank goodness I stayed up last night to finish this for you, Miss Prentess, otherwise heaven knows when I would have time to do it.’
She opened the box and pulled out a new evening gown of apricot silk.
‘Oh it is beautiful,’ exclaimed Susannah.
‘I hoped you would like it.’ Odesse held up the gown for Susannah’s inspection. ‘The flounced skirt is hemmed with lace, like the neck and the puff sleeves, and I have found a pair of long gloves that match the colour exactly.’
‘Quite exquisite,’ declared Mrs Wilby. ‘You must wear it at the ball, my love.’ She beamed at the modiste. ‘It is quite the finest gown you have made yet, Odesse.’
‘Thank you, ma’am. And the walking dress with the lilac-sarcenet petticoat that you ordered for yourself is ready now, if you wish to take it, Mrs Wilby, but I’m afraid I have not had time to finish the green pelisse, I am very sorry.’
‘Oh, never mind about that.’ Mrs Wilby happily waved aside her apology. ‘I do not need the new pelisse yet and would much rather you satisfied your other customers.’
‘Lady Gisburne has lost no time in seeking out Odesse,’ remarked Susannah, when the ladies were once more in their carriage, surrounded by their purchases. ‘I have every confidence that she will be well satisfied with her services.’ She put her hand on the box beside her and chuckled. ‘Perhaps now I can stop buying so many new gowns!’
* * *
That same evening, Susannah smoothed the long gloves over her arms and stood back to look at herself in the glass. There was no doubt that the apricot silk was most becoming. Dorcas had dressed her hair à la Madonna, with a centre parting and the curls falling from a topknot so that they would bounce and shimmer about her head when she danced at the ball tonight.
She wondered if Jasper would like it, but resolutely stifled the thought. He was still not forgiven, so it was of no odds to her at all whether he liked it or not. With something like a toss of those guinea-gold curls she picked up her shawl and hurried downstairs to join Aunt Maude.
* * *
Their reception at the Upper Rooms was noticeably warmer than it had been the previous week. There were smiles and bows from most of the matrons as they entered, and more than one lady promised Mrs Wilby an invitation to drink tea with her the following week.
Aunt Maude caught Susannah’s eyes, a glow of triumph in her own, and Susannah was forced to bite back a smile. A sudden commotion at the door was followed by a reverent hush. Susannah and her aunt stood back as the Dowager Countess of Gisburne was announced. The old lady progressed regally and Susannah noticed that although she carried a stick she rarely leaned on it as she made her way through the crowd with a nod here, a word there. When she reached Susannah she stopped.
‘Miss Prentess.’
Susannah rose from her curtsy to find the dowager was regarding her through her quizzing glass.
‘Hmm. Elegantly turned out, as always. I think you are in a fair way to becoming the best-dressed lady in Bath, my dear.’ She had not raised her voice, but her words carried effortlessly around the room.
‘Thank you, ma’am.’
Susannah inclined her head to acknowledge the compliment but she was almost startled into a laugh when the old lady winked at her before continuing her regal progress towards the ballroom.
Gerald Barnabus had begged her to keep the first dance for him and he came to find her when the orchestra began tuning up. He too cast an appraising eye over her.
‘I have never seen you looking lovelier,’ he declared, pressing a fervent kiss upon her gloved fingers.
Susannah laughed.
‘I am immune to your compliments, Gerald, you give me too many of them.’
‘That is because I am violently in love with you,’ he replied gallantly.
‘I fear you have just fallen into the habit of saying so,’ she retorted, shaking her head at him.
‘How can you say so? I have been your most loyal suitor.’ A faint frown marred his boyish countenance when he spotted a group of gentlemen at the far side of the room and he added quietly, ‘At least I am not one of those fairweather suitors, who abandon you at the first hint of adversity. Most of that crowd over there have not been to one of your card parties since it was known that you are the patroness of Florence House.’
‘We are grateful for your constant support, and Lord Markham’s,’ she added conscientiously. ‘Is, um, is the viscount coming tonight, by the bye?’
‘Oh, yes, we dined together. He is here somewhere,’ said Gerald carelessly. ‘He agrees with me, your support for Florence House is to be applauded.’
‘Thank you, I am glad to know that. However, we have another patroness now, although she does not wish to be named yet. It means the house’s future is much more secure. Our card parties are less important now. We may even discontinue them.’
‘I should be glad of it,’ he replied earnestly. ‘While I understand the necessity I have always thought—’ He broke off, flushing. ‘But never mind that. The first set is forming. Shall we join them?’
Susannah stood up for the first two dances with Gerald, and after that there was no lack of partners. The music lifted her spirits. She
no longer needed to worry about Florence House, she could relax and enjoy herself. As she was waiting for another dance to begin she saw Jasper at the side of the room. He looked very handsome in his dark coat, his black hair gleaming in the candlelight. Perhaps she was being unfair to him. Mayhap he had not intended to tell anyone about Florence House. Surely she could forgive such a slip?
* * *
By the end of the dance she had made up her mind she would speak to him. She gracefully excused herself and moved off the dance floor. The crowd was so thick it was impossible to see very far and Jasper’s dark head was not visible in any direction. On one of the higher tiers of benches she could see her aunt, part of a large crowd gathered around Lady Gisburne. Susannah had no desire to join that throng and she decided she would sit out on the lower benches until the dancing stopped and tea was served, then she would join her aunt in the tea room. Perhaps she would find Jasper there. She began to make her way through the crowd. Ahead of her she could see Mrs Bulstrode and Mrs Farthing at the centre of a little group of ladies. Susannah had no wish to push past them and endure their insincere greetings so she stepped to one side, where she was shielded from their view by two large gentlemen deep in conversation. However, she was close enough to hear Mrs Farthing’s sneering tones.
‘I see Miss Prentess is wearing yet another new gown. I wonder she can afford so many, with her little “interest” to keep up.’
Her cronies laughed. Susannah’s lip curled slightly and she was about to move away when she heard Mrs Bulstrode give an angry titter.
‘My dear, she can afford anything she wants now she has Markham in her pocket. I wager we will be calling her “Viscountess” before the end of the summer.’
Susannah froze. She folded her arms across her breast, hugging herself. Markham in her pocket? Nothing was further from the truth and yet...perhaps that is how it looked, to those who had been watching them at the last ball. Jasper had been very attentive. The blood that had earlier drained from her body now returned in an angry rush. How dare they! How dare they couple her name with anyone, least of all the viscount?
She remembered their last meeting. His insouciance, his confident assertion that he would come about. Perhaps Jasper himself had started these rumours, perhaps he was misguided enough to think that the hint of such a liaison would protect her from the disapproval of Bath society.
Fustian, she told herself savagely. Only a nodcock would believe it would do anything other than make me look foolish!
She looked about her. She must find Jasper and have it out with him. Now.
* * *
Another perambulation of the ballroom convinced her that the viscount was not present and she made her way to the Octagon. That, too, was crowded, but still no sign of him. Her last hope was the tea room. That was the least crowded of all, for the dancing was still going on and the waiters had not yet completed setting out the refreshments. One or two couples stood about the room and Susannah was about to give up and return to the ballroom when a movement on the balcony at the far end of the room caught her eye. Someone was on the upper level, and even in the shadows she recognised the familiar form of Lord Markham.
Susannah hurried up the stairs to the landing. The light from the three grand chandeliers did not reach this far and the soaring pillars threw further bands of shadow across the narrow gallery.
‘Lord Markham. I have been looking for you.’
He turned at her voice and she saw the flash of white teeth as he smiled at her.
‘Really? I came up here to escape the crowds. I am honoured that you have sought me out.’
‘You should not be. I have come to pick a crow with you!’ She began to pace up and down, too angry to keep still. ‘Do you know that everyone is saying we are betrothed?’
‘Are they?’
‘Yes, they are,’ she said furiously. ‘Perhaps you can tell me how that rumour came about?’
‘Your spending the whole evening with me at the Fancy Ball, perhaps?’
‘That was to protect Florence House. You should have scotched this rumour.’
He spread his hands.
‘I beg your pardon, but I was not aware of it.’
‘Well you are aware of it now, and I demand you put a stop to it.’
He caught her hand as she went to pass him.
‘Pray do not put yourself into a passion over such a little matter, Miss Prentess.’
‘It is not a little matter,’ she flashed at him, tearing her hand free. ‘It is—it is a slur on my good name!’
His black brows went up.
‘That you should be considered a fit wife for a viscount? I see no slur there.’
‘This is all your fault,’ she railed at him, too furious for reason. ‘First you betray a confidence and then—’
With a growl of exasperation he caught her arms and turned her towards him, giving her a little shake.
‘How many more times do I have to tell you I did not give away your secret? And no more have I set it about that we are to be married. Thunder an’ turf, what would I want to do such a thing for?’ His hands slid up to her shoulders, she could feel their heat through the thin silk of the tiny puff sleeves.
‘I don’t know—to make mischief, perhaps!’
His thumbs moved gently over her collar bones, caressing the bare skin. It was strangely arresting. Her mind might still be angry with him, but her limbs were locked, she was unable to move away.
‘I am not in the habit of making mischief of that sort.’
His low voice resonated through her body. A tingle ran down the length of her spine. Gently he pulled her back against the wall, where the shadows were deepest. She should protest, push him away, run back to the safety of the crowded ballroom.
She did none of these things. His hands continued to hold her shoulders. He was standing so close now that she could smell the spicy tang of cologne on his skin. Her breasts seemed to swell and pull her forwards, responding to the attraction of his lean, muscular body.
He put the fingers of one hand beneath her chin and forced her to look up at him. His face was in shadow, but she could sense his eyes on her face, feel them burning into her very soul, laying it bare. It was as much as she could do not to whimper in fear.
‘S-stop this,’ she stammered. ‘Let me go.’
In response he lowered his head and touched her lips with his own. She found herself reaching up, standing on tiptoe to prolong the contact.
‘You may leave whenever you wish.’
The words whispered over her skin, their meaning lost. She closed her eyes, shivering with delight as his kisses strayed to her neck. Her head went back and she clutched at his jacket, a wave of dizziness washing over her. He planted kisses on her throat and along the length of her jaw before returning his attention to her mouth and then she was drowning in his kiss, opening her lips, inviting him to plunder her mouth, her own tongue tentatively flickering to meet his.
He gave a groan as his arms tightened around her. She was crushed against his body—it was every bit as hard and demanding as she remembered. She wanted to tear at his clothes but instead drove her hands into his hair, revelling in the silky strength of those black locks between her fingers. Her body was on fire, her thighs aching for his touch and when he raised his head she clung to him, trembling. Only his encircling arms prevented her from collapsing in a heap at his feet.
‘Tell me you did not plan this,’ he murmured into her hair.
‘Plan what?’
He laughed softly.
‘You bewitch me.’
Susannah took a few deep breaths and fought to regain control of her unruly body. Not just her body, her mind, too. Jasper spoke of being bewitched. Surely something of that kind had happened to her? This was not normal, rational behaviour.
Steeling herself, she pushed him away. She felt a little unsteady, but her legs did not crumple beneath her.
‘Pray to not think I came up here to, to...’
; ‘No, I acquit you of that. As you must acquit me of spreading rumours about our impending marriage. But you know, perhaps it is not such an impossible idea.’
‘I beg your pardon?’
‘Perhaps we should marry,’ he said.
‘P-pray do not tease me, my lord.’
‘No, I am in earnest. After forcing you to dine alone with me, then our being together at Florence House, it occurs to me that I should offer you the protection of my name.’ His wicked smile flashed. ‘Especially if we have this effect upon each other.’
Another tremor ran through her, but this time of fear.
‘No. Never.’ She crossed her arms, thoroughly alarmed. ‘Th-this is not natural. It is to be avoided. It leads to, to debauchery and decadence.’
He smiled. ‘I am becoming more enamoured of the idea every minute.’
He reached out for her but she whisked herself away from him, putting her hands on the iron railings behind her for support.
‘I c-cannot marry you.’ Panic welled up inside her. ‘You—I—you frighten me.’
‘No, you have frightened yourself,’ he said gently. ‘These feeling are natural. When we are married you will see—’
‘No! I have made a vow to myself never to marry.’
‘Because of what happened to your sister? It is time to let that go, Susannah. It is time to live your own life.’
She gazed up at him. His words were gentle, but there was something in his eyes, a warm glow that promised much and threatened her self-control. It terrified her. A sudden burst of laughter echoed around them. Jasper looked down into the tea room.
‘The dancing has ended. Everyone is coming in here now. You had best go and find your aunt.’
She took a step away from him.
‘I c-can’t marry you, my lord. I c-can’t...’
‘Yes, you can.’
He reached out and touched her cheek with his fingers. The skin burned, sending white-hot shards of pleasure pulsing through her. Did he not understand this should not be happening to her? She could not allow any man such control over her.
‘I have to leave Bath for a few days,’ he said. ‘There are papers I have to sign at Markham, but I will be back on Wednesday evening. I will call on Thursday and we will discuss it further. You need not fear, everything shall be done properly. I shall ask your aunt for permission to pay my addresses.’
Behind the Rake's Wicked Wager Page 17
