Читать книгу Behind the Rake's Wicked Wager - Sarah Mallory - Страница 10

Whatever startled response Jasper would have made was silenced by Gerald’s coming back into the room at that moment. Nor was there opportunity to discuss the matter again, for very soon afterwards the gentlemen took their leave. Gloriana squeezed Jasper’s fingers as he bowed over her hand, and the speaking look in her eyes told him that she relied upon him to comply with her outrageous suggestion.

But was it so outrageous? Jasper pondered the matter as he rode back to Bath beside Gerald, the setting sun casting long shadows before them and the chill wind cutting through their coats. If he succeeded in turning the lady’s head then it would destroy his young cousin’s infatuation at a stroke. Many men would not hesitate, but for all his reputation Jasper had never yet set out to make any woman fall in love with him. He might have done so with Zelah, if it had not become plain to him that she was head over heels in love with his brother. She was the only woman he had ever loved, the only woman he had ever considered taking as his wife, so there was no danger that he would succumb to Miss Prentess’s charms. He could flirt with her, court her, even seduce her without risk to himself.

He shifted in the saddle. What of the risk to the lady? If he went that far it would ruin her reputation and she would lose her good name. He hardened his heart. She had every young man in Bath at her feet and from what he had seen at her aunt’s card party she was fleecing them quite ruthlessly. The amounts might be small, but over the weeks they would mount up to a considerable sum. Enough to live quite comfortably. Dammit, the woman was running a gaming hell, she deserved no good name!

‘Eh, what’s that?’ Gerald looked round. ‘Did you say something?’

Jasper glanced at the young man riding beside him.

‘Aye. I was wondering about those little card parties of Mrs Wilby’s. Do you think they profit from them?’

Gerald shrugged.

‘A hundred or two, perhaps. I doubt it is ever more than a monkey.’

‘I should hope not.’ He paused. ‘Does it not concern you that they are making money out of these parties?’

Gerald looked at him.

‘No, why? The sums are negligible.’ He laughed. ‘Mother told me that when she was young the London hostesses made thousands in an evening, especially those who ran a faro bank. And they charged their guests card money, to cover the cost of the new packs. Mrs Wilby does nothing like that. Her parties are for friends to gather together and enjoy themselves.’

‘And lose money.’

‘Not everyone loses.’

‘But enough to make it a worthwhile evening for the hostess.’

‘And why not?’ countered Gerald. ‘We might all go elsewhere and lose a great deal more.’ He shook his head. ‘Let be, Jasper. Those of us who go there choose to do so, and if we lose a few guineas, well, what does it matter? I would lose twice as much to Miss Prentess and think it money well spent.’

Jasper said no more and the subject was not mentioned again during their ride back to Bath. It irked him that Susannah Prentess, with her charming smile and beautiful face, had quite beguiled his cousin, and if he had to make her fall in love with him to free Gerald from her clutches he would do it. He would even risk ruining her good name, if that was the only option, though his innate sense of honour balked at such a course. But it would be a cruel trick to play upon his young cousin. If it was at all possible he would find another way to prove to Gerald that the lady was not the angel he thought her to be.

As soon as they had left the Pump Room, Mrs Wilby made clear her disapproval at being dragged away so precipitately.

‘What will everyone think of you, Susannah? To dash away so suddenly, with Mr Barnabus and the viscount only just arrived.’

‘They will think nothing of it, Aunt. And besides, I am quite out of sympathy with you for inviting them to join us tomorrow.’

‘But why? What possible objection can there be?’

‘None, to Mr Barnabus, but the viscount …’ She bit her lip, wondering how to explain her reluctance to see more of Lord Markham. ‘I think he suspects something.’

Mrs Wilby stopped.

‘Oh heavens, never say so! Oh, Susannah—’ ‘No, no, he can have no inkling of the truth, and Gerald would never tell him, I am sure.’ She took Aunt Maude’s arm and gently urged her on. ‘It is just the comments he made to me, as if he thinks we run some sort of gambling den.’

‘All the more reason, then, for him to take tea with us and see that it is not the case,’ declared Mrs Wilby. ‘A gambling den! How perfectly ridiculous.’

Her aunt’s outraged dignity made Susannah chuckle.

‘But if he is suspicious of you,’ continued Mrs Wilby, ‘perhaps it would be best if you curtailed your visits to …’

‘My dear aunt, I will do nothing of the sort. In fact, I am going there tomorrow morning. Really, I did not realise, when I started this, this project, that there would be so much to do, or that it would cost so much.’

‘If people knew of it, Susannah, they would be quite scandalised.’

‘I am an heiress, Aunt,’ she said drily. ‘They would merely think me eccentric. If only I had control of my fortune now there would be no problem over money, but my uncle has bound it all up so tight I cannot even borrow upon the expectation, unless I go to a money-lender.’

‘Oh heavens, child, pray do not even think of it!’

‘I don’t. But we will need to find extra money soon.’ She sighed. ‘My dependence is upon you and Kate to win a little more at our next card party.’

‘Which will make Lord Markham even more suspicious,’ said Mrs Wilby bitterly. ‘I have a mind not to take tea with anyone tomorrow. I shall write and tell them all I have been laid low with a fever.’

‘No, no, dear Aunt, let them all come. ‘Pon reflection, I think you are quite right. Nothing could be more respectable than the guests you have invited. Lord Markham is most likely to be bored to death and will beat a speedy retreat!’

It was a cold, clear afternoon, but a biting wind made Susannah glad she had ordered her carriage to take her and Kate to Henrietta Street. They drew up on the gentle curve of the street outside one of the elegant three-storey houses, where only the array of fabrics displayed in the window gave an indication that this was not a private residence. A young woman in a plain dark gown opened the door to them.

‘Good day to you, Mabel. Is Odesse upstairs?’

‘Good day, Miss Prentess, Mrs Logan. Yes, Madame Odesse is in the showroom with Mrs Anstruther.’

‘And how is little James?’ murmured Susannah as she followed the girl up the stairs.

‘Oh, he is doing very well, miss, putting on weight just as he should, and sleeping through the night now.’ Mabel cast her a quick, shy smile. ‘It is so good to have him close, where I can keep an eye on him.’

They had reached the landing and Mabel showed them into the large reception room, where a dark-haired woman wearing a plain but exquisitely sewn round gown was talking with a formidable matron in a Pomona-green redingote and matching turban, assuring madame in a lilting foreign accent that her new gown would be completed tout de suite.

She looked up as her new visitors came in, but Susannah waved her hand.

‘No, no, madame, please continue serving Mrs Anstruther. We are happy to browse amongst these new fabrics.’ Her smile included the matron, who quickly looked away.

‘Thank you, I have finished here.’ Mrs Anstruther hastily pulled on her gloves and headed for the door. ‘If you will have the new gown delivered to me this afternoon, madame …’

She hurried out and Madame Odesse shut the door carefully behind her.

‘Miss Prentess, Mrs Logan, how good of you to call. Will you not be seated?’

Susannah noted with a smile that all trace of the vague European accent had disappeared from the modiste’s tone.

‘This continuing cold weather has made it necessary for me to order a new redingote, and I have persuaded Mrs Logan it is time she bought a new gown. We have brought with us a length of silk especially for the purpose.’ Susannah smiled. ‘I trust everything goes well here?’

‘Very well, thank you, we have made some changes.’ Odesse paused. ‘Would you like to come and see?’

‘We would indeed!’

She took them back down the stairs and through a door on the ground floor. The room was alive with quiet chatter, which stopped as they went in. Four young women were present, sitting near the large window. Each one was engaged in sewing the swathe of material spread over her knees, while a nearby table was covered in a confusion of brightly coloured material and threads. Madame Odesse waved an expressive hand

‘This is now our sewing room.’

Susannah smiled at the young ladies but hastily begged them not to get up or stop their work. She was acquainted with them all and knew that each one had a baby to look after. The absence of cribs and crying was noticeable.

‘Where are the children?’ she asked.

‘We take it in turns now to stay in the nursery with the babes,’ offered one of the girls in a shy voice. She added, indicating the cloud of pale-blue woollen fabric on her lap, ‘I am sewing the final seam of your walking dress now, Miss Prentess.’

‘My girls find they prefer to work away from the babies,’ added the modiste. ‘We have six seamstresses living here now, and Mabel, of course, who is proving herself a valuable assistant to me. Two of my girls stay in the nursery while the others get on with the sewing.’

‘And the lace-makers?’ asked Kate. ‘How do they go on?’

‘Very well.’ Madame Odesse’s dark eyes twinkled. ‘The fashion for extensive trimming on gowns could not have come at a better time. Demand is growing for our exclusive lace, and I hope they will be able to train up a few more girls soon.’

‘And have you room for more seamstresses?’

‘Certainly,’ agreed Odesse. ‘If we keep getting new customers then I shall have work for them, too.’

She led them down another flight of stairs to the nursery, where two young women were looking after the babies in a large, comfortably warm room. Susannah and Kate spent some time in the nursery before making their way back upstairs, Susannah declaring herself very satisfied with the arrangements.

‘It appears to be working out very well,’ she remarked, when they were once again in the reception room. ‘The children are content and their mothers seem happy.’

The modiste took her hands and pressed them, saying earnestly, ‘We all appreciate your giving us this chance to keep our babies and earn a living, Miss Prentess.’

‘I am glad to do it, and the gowns you have made for me are very much admired, Olive—I mean Odesse,’ Susannah corrected herself hastily. ‘I beg your pardon!’

The seamstress laughed and shook her head.

‘I would not have you beg my pardon for anything. When I consider what might have happened, to all of us….’ There was a moment’s uneasy silence before she shook off her reflective mood and said brightly, ‘The new apricot silk you ordered arrived this morning, and I know just the design I would like to make for you …’

An hour later the ladies were on their way back to Royal Crescent, a number of packages on the seat beside them and the prospect of more new gowns to follow.

‘I must say, I never thought charity would be so pleasurable,’ declared Kate, smiling. ‘Your idea of setting the girls up in their own establishment was a very good one, Susannah.’

‘I merely made use of Olive’s talent for sewing. She has such a shrewd eye for design, too.’

‘But it is unlikely she would have succeeded alone, and with a young baby to support.’ Kate reached out and squeezed her arm. ‘You should be very proud of yourself, my dear.’

‘I am very proud of my ladies,’ replied Susannah. ‘I have merely provided the means. It is their hard work that is making it such a success.’

‘If only the starched matrons of Bath knew that their gowns were being made by unmarried mothers they might not be so keen to patronise Odesse.’

‘I do not think they care who makes their clothes as long as they are fashionable and a good price,’ retorted Susannah. ‘Florence House, however, is a different matter. News of that establishment will scandalise the sober matrons, so I hope we can keep it a secret, at least until I have control of my fortune and can support it without the aid of Aunt Maude’s card parties.’

Winter would not release its grip and when Jasper rose at his usual early hour the following morning, there was a hint of frost glistening on the Bath rooftops. He decided to take a long walk before breakfast. Enquiries of the waiter in the near-empty coffee room elicited the information that the view from Beechen Cliff was well worth the effort, so he set out, heading south through streets where only the tradespeople were yet in evidence. Striding out, he soon came to the quay and the bridge that took him across the river, and he could begin the climb to Beechen Cliff.

When he reached the heights he considered himself well rewarded. Looking north, Bath was spread out in all its glory below him. Smoke was beginning to rise from the chimneys of the honey-coloured terraces but it was not yet sufficient to cloud his view and his gaze moved past the Abbey until it reached the sweeping curve of the Royal Crescent. Immediately his thoughts turned to Miss Prentess and Gerald. If it wasn’t for those damned card parties he would be inclined to tell Gloriana to give Gerald her blessing and let nature take its course. After all, the lady had refused him once. He would wager that if he was left alone, Gerald would recover from his infatuation and settle down with a suitable young bride in a year or so.

But it was Susannah Prentess who set the alarm bells ringing in his head. Why did a rich young woman need to engage in card parties to raise money? If she was looking for a brilliant match then why was she not in London? With her good looks and her fortune there were plenty of eligible bachelors who would be eager to win her hand. Clearly there was something more to the lady than met the eye, and he was determined to discover it.

The icy wind cut his cheeks, reminding him of his exposed position and a sudden hunger made him eager for his breakfast. Jasper set off on the return journey at a good pace. The streets were busier now with a constant stream of carts and wagons making their way across the bridge. He heard the jingle of harness behind him and looked round. The equipage was quite the smartest to pass him that morning and clearly a private carriage, although there was no liveried footman standing on the back. The sun’s reflection from the river shone through the carriage window and illuminated the interior so that Jasper could see its occupant quite clearly. There could be no mistaking Susannah Prentess’s perfect profile, nor the guinea-gold curls peeping out beneath her silk bonnet. Jasper raised his hat but even as he did so he knew she had not seen him. The lady appeared to be deep in thought. However, Jasper had to own that to see her out and about so early in the day, when most of her kind would be still at their dressing table, did her no disservice in his eyes. His spirits, lifted by the exercise, rose a little higher, and he found himself looking forward to the forthcoming visit to Royal Crescent.

‘Ah, my lord, Mr Barnabus, I am so pleased you could join us.’

Mrs Wilby came forwards as the butler ushered them into the drawing room. There were already a dozen or so people present, grouped around little tables, the same ones that had been used for cards, but they now held nothing more exciting than teacups. Gerald immediately headed for Susannah, who was sitting near the fireplace, dispensing tea. Jasper would have followed, but Mrs Wilby, conscious of her duties as a hostess, gently drew him aside, intent upon introductions. The stares and whispers that had greeted his entrance made it clear that the appearance of a viscount was an occurrence of rare importance. It was therefore some time before he was free to approach Susannah.

Gerald was beside her, and hailed him cheerfully.

‘Come and join us, Markham. I was just telling Miss Prentess how we rode over to Bristol yesterday.’

‘I suspect you wish you were out riding now, my lord.’ There was laughter in her eyes as she regarded him, as well as a hint of an apology. ‘Some of my aunt’s friends appeared to be fawning over you quite disgracefully. And Mr Barnabus assures me that is not something you enjoy.’

‘Aye, I’ve told Miss Prentess that even if you are a viscount you are not at all high in the instep,’ added Gerald, grinning.

‘Very good of you,’ retorted Jasper.

‘Bath is now the home of a great many retired people,’ said Susannah, keeping her voice low. ‘Perfectly genteel, but not the highest ranks of society. I’m afraid some of those present are rather overwhelmed to have a viscount in their midst.’

‘Not overwhelmed enough to be tongue-tied, unfortunately,’ murmured Jasper. ‘The lady in green was particularly garrulous.’

‘Amelia Bulstrode.’ She gave a gurgle of laughter. ‘And her friend, Mrs Farthing. When my aunt told them you were expected they were exceedingly put out. They have sent their girls to dancing class today, you see. But it is no matter. Now they can claim acquaintance they will make their daughters known to you at the first opportunity. But you need not be alarmed,’ she added kindly. ‘They are very well-mannered girls, albeit inclined to giggle.’

‘Nothing wrong with that,’ remarked Gerald nobly. ‘They are very pleasant, cheerful young ladies.’

‘And one of their pleasant, cheerful mothers is approaching,’ muttered Jasper. ‘I shall retreat to that corner, where I see my old friend General Sanstead and his wife. I must pay my respects, you know.’

Susannah’s eyes were brim full of mirth and she mouthed the word ‘coward’ at him before turning to greet Mrs Bulstrode. Jasper made good his escape, but behind him he heard the matron’s carrying voice.

‘If there is more tea, Miss Prentess, I would be happy to refill my cup. So refreshing, is it not? I do not believe those who say it does you no good. Why, they have only to look at you. A picture of health, if I may say so.’

‘Thank you, Mrs Bulstrode. This is a particularly pleasant blend …’

He smiled to himself, appreciating the way she dealt with the overpowering matron. Enjoying, too, that warm, laughing note in her voice.

‘And you are a wonderful advocate for the benefits of tea drinking,’ continued Mrs Bulstrode. ‘You have so much energy, always out and about, like this morning, for example. I saw your carriage at the Borough Walls—’

Jasper halted, under the pretence of removing a speck of dirt from his coat. Perhaps now he might find out what she was doing so early in the day.

‘No, no, ma’am, you are mistaken. I have not been abroad today.’

He turned. Susannah was smiling serenely as she poured more tea for the matron.

‘No? But I made sure it was your carriage …’

‘Very likely,’ returned Susannah, handing her the cup. ‘I believe my aunt sent Edwards to collect some purchases for her. Is that not right, Aunt?’

‘What’s that, dear? Oh, oh, yes—yes, that’s it.’

Mrs Wilby’s flustered response was in itself suspicious, yet if he had not seen Susannah in the carriage with his own eyes Jasper would be as ready as Mrs Bulstrode to believe her story.

Schooling himself, he continued towards General Sanstead. It was clearly not the time to question Miss Prentess, but he would get to the bottom of this. Later.

The General, an old friend, was delighted to see Jasper and kept him talking for some time, asking after the family. The viscount responded suitably and once he had fetched more tea for Mrs Sanstead, he sat down and engaged them in conversation for the next half-hour while he observed the company.

Jasper realised this was a very different gathering from the discreet little card party he had attended. Gerald was staying close to Susannah and Jasper couldn’t blame him, they were by far the youngest people in the room. Apart from Gerald, Jasper could see he was the only unmarried man present and for the most part the visitors were older matrons, who moved about the room, forming groups to gossip and disperse again.

Jasper played his part and was much sought out by the other guests, who were all eager to claim acquaintance with a viscount. No one could have faulted his manners, but he was all the time watching Susannah, and when at last he found her alone beside the tea-table he moved across to join her.

‘No, thank you.’ He put up his hand as she offered him tea. ‘Are your rooms never empty, Miss Prentess?’

‘My aunt enjoys entertaining.’

‘And you?

‘Of course.’

He looked about the room.

‘But this company is not worthy of you, madam.’ She looked at him, her hazel eyes puzzled and he continued. ‘Apart from Barnabus and myself it is all matrons and married couples’

‘This is my aunt’s party, sir.’

‘Perhaps your milieu is the cardroom.’

She looked down, smiling.

‘No, I do not think so.’

Jasper hesitated, wondering if he should mention seeing her on the bridge that morning and into the lull came Mrs Sanstead’s voice as she moved across to join the other married ladies.

‘We are missing Mrs Anstruther today, Mrs Wilby. Is she not well?’

Immediately Miss Prentess was on the alert. Jasper could not fail to notice the way she grew still, nor the wary look in her eye. There was some coughing and shuffling and from the furtive looks in his direction it was clear this was not a subject for his hearing. He turned away, pretending to interest himself in a pleasant landscape on the wall, but not before he had seen Mrs Bulstrode turn quickly in her seat, setting the tassels on her green turban swinging wildly.

‘Lord, Mrs Sanstead, have you not heard? The Anstruthers have retired to Shropshire. They left Bath this morning.’

‘Heavens, that was sudden. When do they mean to return?’

‘Who can tell? Their daughter …’

He could not make out the next words, but he heard Mrs Sanstead sigh.

‘Oh, you mean she is with child? Poor gel.’

‘Yes. I understand she refused to say who the father might be and Anstruther has banished her.’ Mrs Bulstrode’s whisper was easily audible to Jasper’s keen ears. ‘Thrown her out of the house in disgrace.’

‘Flighty piece, I always said so,’ muttered Mrs Farthing with a disdainful sniff. ‘My son William showed a preference for her at one time, but I am glad it came to nought. She has obviously been far too free with her favours.’

‘Whatever she has done she does not deserve to be cast off,’ murmured Mrs Wilby. ‘And what of the father? Do we have any idea who he might be?’

‘No one will say, although there are rumours.’ Mrs Farthing dropped her voice a little and ended in a conspiratorial whisper that somehow managed to carry around the whole room. ‘Mr Warwick.’

‘What? Not the young man we met here the other night?’ exclaimed Mrs Sanstead. ‘Why, he made a fourth at whist, and seemed so charming.’

‘The very same.’ Mrs Farthing nodded. ‘He denies it of course.’

‘Naturally,’ muttered Susannah.

She had not joined the matrons, but she was listening as intently as Jasper. Now he heard her utterance, and saw the angry frown that passed across her brow.

‘But what of Anstruther?’ barked the General, with a total disregard for the fact that the ladies considered their gossip confidential. ‘If it was my gel I’d have it out with the rascal, and if ‘tis true I would make him marry her.’

‘That certainly would be preferable to her being cast out and having to fend for herself,’ sighed Mrs Wilby.

Susannah’s lip curled. ‘An unenviable choice,’ she said, sotto voce. ‘Marriage to a scoundrel, or destitution.’

‘You do not agree, Miss Prentess?’ Jasper kept his voice low, so that only she could hear him. ‘You would rather he did not