Читать книгу Behind the Rake's Wicked Wager - Sarah Mallory - Страница 9

‘My dear, are you sure you want to go to the ball tonight? You are almost asleep there.’

Susannah looked up with a start. She and her aunt were sitting in the morning room, where the welcome heat from the fire had made her quite drowsy.

‘Of course, ma’am. I shall be very well, once I have had dinner.’ Susannah brushed aside her aunt’s concerns with a smile.

‘But you have been sitting there this past half-hour without saying a word.’

‘Then I beg your pardon, I am a little tired after my travelling today.’

‘You were gone for so long I was beginning to worry.’

‘There was no need, Aunt. You know I had Dorcas with me.’

‘But I do worry, my love. I can never be easy when you are … visiting. One never knows what you might pick up.’

Susannah smiled. ‘My dear aunt, I assure you there is no danger of contamination.’

‘Not of the body, perhaps, but—’

‘Please, Aunt, you know we have discussed this often and often. There is no danger at all in what I do, so let us not pursue it.’ She looked across as the door opened. ‘Ah, here is Gatley to tell us dinner is ready. Shall we go down?’

Susannah did her best to entertain her aunt at dinner and to hide all signs of fatigue, but she had to admit to herself that she was tired. It had been three o’clock before the last of the guests had left and she could fall into bed that morning. She should not complain, for it proved how successful their little card parties had become. But she had been up and out of the house before ten o’clock, not returning to the Crescent until late in the afternoon. Her aunt would argue that there was no need for her to go out, that she could entrust such errands to a servant, but Susannah’s independent spirit baulked at that. She had set herself a task and she would see it through. And that included going to the ball tonight.

The Upper Rooms were already crowded when Susannah and her aunt arrived. Their chairmen weaved through the press of carriages and deposited them under the entrance portico, where the music from the ballroom could be faintly heard. It was ten o’clock, the hour when the fashionable would leave their private parties and proceed to the ball, so the entrance was buzzing with activity. There were many acquaintances to be greeted once the ladies had removed their cloaks and straightened their shawls.

Susannah waved to Mrs Logan, who had just arrived, then turned back to greet a turbaned matron who sailed up to her with two marriageable daughters in her wake.

‘Oh, Miss Prentess—another new gown? You are always so beautifully turned out.’ The matron sighed ecstatically as she regarded Susannah’s flowered muslin. ‘So fine, my dear. And the lace edging, quite, quite exquisite. Is it Brussels?’

Susannah smiled and shook her head. ‘No, ma’am, it is made locally, and it is exclusive to Odesse, the new modiste in Henrietta Street.’

‘Indeed? I thought you had ordered it from London, so fine as it is.’

‘Thank you, Mrs Bulstrode. I find Odesse excellent. And she has excelled herself; I did not expect to have this gown for another week at least.’

The matron’s eyes brightened. ‘And in Henrietta Street, you say?’

‘Yes, her prices are very reasonable.’ Susanna dropped her voice a little. ‘Especially when one considers what one has to pay for gowns in Milsom Street. Not that one objects to the price, of course, but Odesse does seem to have a certain style …’

‘Indeed she does, Miss Prentess. That gown is quite superb. Well, well, I shall look her up.’ With a smile Mrs Bulstrode gathered her daughters and went off, leaving Susannah to smile after her.

‘Excellent,’ murmured Kate, coming up. ‘That could not have been better timed. Amelia Bulstrode is such a gabble-monger that our new modiste’s name will be on every woman’s lips by the end of the evening.’

‘And her gowns will be on a good many ladies’ backs by the end of the month,’ added Susannah. ‘I have achieved what I wanted to do without even entering the ballroom.’ She noted the startled look in Mrs Wilby’s eye and shook her head, laughing. ‘You need not fear, Aunt, I do not intend to go home yet. I hope to drum up even more business for the new modiste before the evening is out.’

‘Don’t!’ hissed Mrs Wilby in an urgent whisper. ‘Pray, Susannah, do not mention the word business. It is not at all becoming.’

‘Quite right,’ agreed Kate, her lips twitching. ‘Susannah is a lady and should know nothing about such matters. She is here merely to look beautiful and to stir up such envy that the other ladies will all want to know where she buys her gowns.’

‘Kate!’

Susannah’s protest evoked nothing more than a shake of the head from her friend.

‘It is true, Susannah, and you know it. And I like the new way you have put up your hair,’ she added. ‘Quite in the classical style. What is it Mr Barnabus christened you? The golden goddess. Well tonight you could as well be called a Greek goddess.’

‘Thank you, but enough of your nonsense,’ said Susannah, trying to ignore the heat that burned her cheeks. ‘Let us go in, shall we?’

They moved on to the ballroom. Heads turned as Susannah entered, but she was used to that. As Bath’s richest heiress it was only to be expected that she would be pointed out wherever she went, and tonight it suited her purpose to be noticed.

The dancing was already in progress and the floor was a mass of bodies, swirling and skipping in time to the music. There were a good number of acquaintances present, including many of the gentlemen who had attended the card party the previous evening. As soon as she entered she was surrounded by hopeful suitors, all begging for the honour of a dance. Laughing, Kate carried Mrs Wilby off to the benches at the side of the room, leaving Susannah with her admirers.

The country dances were lively and in such a crowd it was necessary to concentrate to avoid jostling the other dancers. Nevertheless, Susannah enjoyed herself, and was happy to join a second and even a third set as the gentlemen lined up to partner her. She was hot and not a little dizzy by the time Mr Edmonds swung her through the final steps of a particularly lively country dance. He invited her to stand up again even as the last notes were fading.

‘You are very kind, sir, but I am going to sit down now,’ she said, half-gasping, half-laughing as she rose from her curtsy. ‘I really do not think I could dance another reel for quite a while, but thank you—oh!’

As she turned to leave the dance floor she found her way blocked by a wall of black. A second glance showed her it was not a wall, but a gentleman’s evening coat, and when she allowed her eyes to travel up from the broad chest they were dazzled by the snowy white linen of an intricately tied neckcloth.

‘I am very pleased to hear it, Miss Prentess, for I have brought you a glass of wine.’

She stepped back and lifted her gaze even further, to the smiling face of Lord Markham.

Jasper noted with satisfaction Susannah’s start of surprise. There was no denying she looked quite beautiful with her golden hair piled up on her head and a soft flush of exertion mantling her cheeks. And she used her looks to good effect, for most of the men he had seen at the Crescent last night were in the ballroom. He had watched the young pups—and some of the older ones—flock around her as she entered and he had no doubt that they had engaged her for every dance, which was why he had decided upon more subtle tactics.

‘Oh,’ she said again, the blush on her cheek deepening. He held out a wineglass and she took it. As she sipped gratefully at her wine he cast a swift, appraising glance over her.

‘Madras muslin,’ he said, displaying his knowledge of ladies’ fashion. ‘Is that in deference to your late uncle, the nabob?’

Immediately she was on the defensive.

‘No, but I am not ashamed of the source of my fortune, Lord Markham.’

‘I am glad to hear it.’

They stood in silence, watching the dancers, but Susannah was very much aware of the man beside her. His evening clothes were simple, a plain coat of black superfine with black knee-breeches of Florentine silk, but they were superbly cut and he wore them with an air of assurance. He was a man used to commanding attention, and she could not deny that he had hers. They were standing side by side, inches apart, and the skin on her arm tingled at his proximity. Her whole body was aware of him, of the power in that long, lean frame. No man had ever affected her like this before. Swallowing nervously, she sought for something to say.

‘I thought you had left Bath, my lord.’

‘Not yet. My cousin appears very happy with the attractions here and I decided to stay and—er—sample them for myself.’

A wary look appeared in her hazel eyes.

‘For one used to the delights of London, I fear you will find it sadly flat.’

‘Are you trying to discourage me, Miss Prentess?’

‘Not at all. But I believe our entertainment is nothing to London.’

‘And how long have you lived here?’

‘We moved into Bath about a year ago.’

‘Then you shall advise me on the entertainments available.’

‘I am sure your cousin can do that, sir.’

‘But I would value a different perspective.’

‘I would be only too happy to help you, sir, if I had the time, but I regret I am too busy at present.’

‘Busy? With what?’

She ignored his question.

‘But here is someone who may be able to help you.’ She looked past him. ‘You know Mrs Logan, I think?

‘We met last night.’ Jasper bowed. ‘Madam.’

‘Ah, yes, Viscount Markham.’ The widow held out her hand to him. ‘We played at euchre together. How could I forget?’

‘The viscount is planning to remain in Bath for a while, Kate.’

Jasper’s keen eye did not miss the look of appeal Susannah gave her friend.

‘Indeed? How delightful.’

‘Yes, and he is anxious to know what entertainments the city offers. Perhaps, Kate, you can assist the viscount? You must excuse me, but I see my next dance partner is looking for me …’

With a gracious smile she hastened away. Jasper watched her go, his eyes narrowing. Outmanoeuvred, by gad, and by a slip of a girl. He told himself he was amused by her antics, but to one more accustomed to being toadied to and courted wherever he went, Jasper could not deny a small element of annoyance.

‘Well, my lord?’ Mrs Logan’s voice cut through his thoughts and he turned back to her, his urbane smile firmly in place.

‘Yes, madam, pray tell me the delights I might expect to find in Bath …’

Susannah hurried away to join her partner for the next dance set. She found her encounters with the viscount strangely unsettling. He was undoubtedly handsome and charming, but her impression upon meeting him for the first time was that he was suspicious of her. He had as good as accused her of having designs upon his cousin, but she hoped she had reassured him on that point. He did not like her, she was sure of that. There was no warmth in his eyes when he looked at her. Why, then, was he singling her out?

‘Wrong way, Miss Prentess!’

Her partner’s urgent whisper brought Susannah back to the dance and she tried to concentrate upon her steps, but even as she twirled and passed and skipped she was aware that the viscount was watching her from the side of the room. Perhaps he was looking out for a rich wife. Another pass, another skip and she gave her hands to her partner to swing her around. She also gave the young gentleman her warmest smile. If Lord Markham thought he only had to parade his title before her and she would fall at his feet, then he was very much in error.

Susannah danced and laughed until her feet and her cheeks ached. Her partners had never known her so vivacious, nor so encouraging. She never once looked for the viscount, but when the ball ended she was disappointed to learn from Mrs Logan that he had left soon after speaking to her.

‘He was less interested in knowing about Bath than learning about you,’ Kate told her as they waited for their cloaks.

‘Oh?’ Susannah tried not to be intrigued and failed miserably. ‘What did he say?’

‘He asked about your parents.’ Kate’s cynical smile dawned. ‘If he is looking for a rich bride he could do worse.’

‘No, he could not.’ Susannah shivered. ‘He is wasting his time with me. I do not want a husband, and certainly not one who looks down his aristocratic nose at me.’

‘But you must admit he is devilishly handsome,’ murmured Kate.

Susannah thought of those hard eyes boring into her. Something inside fluttered again when she thought of Viscount Markham, but she would not admit it to be attraction.

‘Devilish, yes, I’ll agree to that.’

‘Well, for my part I like him,’ declared Mrs Wilby, coming up. She cast an anxious look at her niece. ‘That is, he has never been anything but charming to me.’

‘Hah!’ Susannah found two pairs of eyes upon her. Her aunt’s held merely a question at her vehement exclamation, but Kate Logan’s glance was brimful of merriment and a knowing look that brought an angry flush to Susannah’s cheek. She said haughtily, ‘Charm is the viscount’s second nature, but it will not work with me!’

Thus, when she spied Lord Markham approaching in Milsom Street the following morning she determined to give him no more than a distant nod. She said as much to her companion, Mrs Logan, who gave a tiny shake of her head.

‘I fear you will catch cold at that, Susannah. You see he has Mr Barnabus with him, and he will hardly be fobbed off with so slight a greeting.’

She was right. Gerald hailed them cheerfully and immediately enquired their direction. Kate responded even while Susannah was trying to frame an answer that would send the gentlemen in the opposite direction.

‘We are going to the Pump Room to meet up with Mrs Wilby.’

‘Then we will accompany you, will we not, Jasper?’

‘Oh, but we do not want to take you out of your way.’

Susannah’s protest was overruled.

‘It is no trouble,’ replied Gerald. ‘I dragged my cousin from his bed for an early walk before breakfast, and we may as well go to the Pump Room as anywhere. Come, now, let us be moving!’

She was not sure how it happened, but moments later Susannah found the viscount beside her. He had said very little, but such was his address that somehow he had inveigled Gerald into escorting Kate and Susannah was left with no option but to accept his arm. She placed her fingers carefully on his sleeve, as if afraid the contact might burn.

‘I remember you telling me how busy you are, Miss Prentess.’

‘I am.’

Nerves made her respond more curtly than she intended.

‘And is this the nature of your busyness, to be shopping all day?’

Her sense of the ridiculous put flight to her tension and a laugh escaped her.

‘Not all day, my lord.’ She held up her free hand, displaying the tight-fitting covering of fine kid leather. ‘Besides, a lady always needs new gloves.’

‘Undoubtedly. How did you enjoy the ball last night?’

‘Very much. I suspect the company was a little provincial for you, sir, since you did not dance.’

‘You noticed.’

The laughter in his voice brought a tell-tale flush to her cheeks, but she recovered quickly.

‘No, my aunt told me as much. I take no interest in you at all.’

Too late she realised she should not have added those final words. She waited for him to tease her and could only be grateful that he changed the subject.

‘Mrs Logan tells me you spent your early years following the drum.’

‘Yes, my father was a captain in an infantry regiment.’

‘You lived in Gibraltar, I believe.’

‘Yes. That is where I met Mrs Logan.’

‘And did she accompany you home to England?’

‘No. I returned here when my father died nine years ago. Mama brought us back to live with her sister. Mrs Logan and I met again when I came to Bath last year. I was fortunate to find her here. She has been a good friend to me.’ She added, in response to the question in his eyes, ‘She is a soldier’s widow, I am a soldier’s daughter. We have similar interests.’

‘And why did you come to Bath, Miss Prentess?’

‘Why not?’ she countered.

‘It seems an odd choice for a young lady of means.’

‘My Uncle Middlemass left me the house in the Crescent. It is not within my power to sell it.’

‘But it is such a choice property, you could let it out and go where you will. Why not London?’

There was a heartbeat’s hesitation before she replied.

‘Bath suits me very well. And my aunt, too. She likes to take the waters. Ah, we are here.’

Susannah was never more glad to reach her destination. She was finding it far too easy to talk to the viscount, but it did not suit her to share her history with him. She released his arm as they entered the Pump Room and led the way towards Mrs Wilby. Her aunt was part of a lively group standing in the curved recess at one end of the room but as Susannah approached the crowd dispersed, leaving Aunt Maude alone to receive them.

‘There you are, Aunt. I hope we have not kept you waiting.’

‘In no wise.’ Mrs Wilby’s smile encompassed them all. ‘I have had a delightful time with my friends.’

‘And drinking the waters, ma’am?’ suggested the viscount.

Mrs Wilby made a face.

‘Ugh, nasty stuff. I never touch it. Tea is my favoured drink here, my lord.’

‘Indeed?’ Lord Markham raised his brows as his glance flickered over Susannah. ‘I thought—’

‘Oh heavens, is that the time?’ Susannah interrupted him hurriedly, looking at the long-case clock by the wall. ‘I hope I do not rush you, Aunt, but Kate and I have an appointment in Henrietta Street later, so we should be on our way back to the Crescent to take breakfast. It is quite a long walk.’

‘We will accompany you!’ declared Gerald promptly.

‘No, no, I will not hear of it,’ replied Susannah firmly. ‘There can be no need of a gentleman’s escort when there are three of us and besides,’ she added with an arch look, ‘how are we to discuss our little secrets if you come with us?’ She held out her hand. ‘We will say goodbye here, if you please.’

‘But I have barely had time to exchange a word with you,’ objected Gerald.

‘Nor have you,’ agreed Mrs Wilby, her kind heart touched by the young man’s despondent look. ‘Perhaps you would like to join us for tea tomorrow afternoon? It is nothing special, of course. We stand on no ceremony, just a few close friends who drop by for a comfortable coze, but you are very welcome to come. And Lord Markham, too, if he would like.’

‘Lord Markham would like, very much,’ said Jasper, amused by Susannah’s obvious disapproval. Those hazel eyes of hers darkened to brown and he read objection in every line of her body, although of course she could not contradict her aunt. He took her hand. ‘Adieu, Miss Prentess. I shall look forward to taking tea with you tomorrow.’

‘Not if you are going to cut me out,’ declared Gerald, half-laughing, half-serious.

‘He will not do that, you may be sure, Ger … Mr Barnabus.’ Susannah’s soft words and warm look killed Jasper’s amusement in an instant. He was still holding her hand and his fingers tightened angrily. She looked up at him, her eyes wide and innocent. ‘My lord?’

Jasper caught his breath. That remark was not for Gerald’s benefit but for his. So the minx wanted to cross swords, did she? A touch of uncertainty entered her gaze. Jasper bowed over her hand in his most courtly style. As his lips brushed her fingers they trembled in his grasp. The lady was not as confident as she would have him believe.

Jasper waited for the spurt of triumph to accompany the thought. It did not come. Instead he was aware of a sudden tenderness, a desire to press that little hand against his heart and assure her of his protection. Shaken, he straightened and released her.

‘That worked out very well,’ commented Gerald, as they watched the ladies walk away. ‘This must be down to you, Jasper. Mrs Wilby has never invited me to take tea before.’

‘Then I hope you are satisfied.’

‘Very. Only, it makes it pretty clear that Mrs Wilby would prefer you as a match for Susannah.’

‘Would that matter to you?’ Jasper asked him. ‘Have you set your heart on marrying her?’

‘Oh, well, you know, she has already told me that she can never think of me as anything other than a friend, but I hope that when she comes to know me better—but she is so good, she is not one to raise false hopes in a fellow.’

‘You know, Gerald, I wonder if Miss Prentess is quite the paragon you make her out to be.’

His cousin laughed at that.

‘Oh but she is, Jasper. Good, kind—a veritable angel. She is quite, quite perfect.’

Jasper shook his head.

‘My poor deluded boy, when you know as much about women as I do you will know there is no such thing!’

‘My mother is convinced of that, certainly. Which reminds me, I had a note from her, asking me to visit. It is still early, I could go today, riding cross country would be a pleasure.’ He put his hand on Jasper’s shoulder. ‘And you can come with me. You will be able to support me when I tell her about Susannah.’

‘Why not, if we can hire a hack for me?’ Jasper swallowed his misgivings. ‘When I left Rooks Tower I sent my horses on to Markham, not expecting to need them in Bath. However— and forgive me if this pains you, Gerald—your mother is not famed for her hospitality, so let us have breakfast first!’

After they had eaten, Jasper and Gerald rode over to Hotwells. Gloriana received them joyfully enough, but when Gerald happily disclosed that he was to take tea in Royal Crescent the following day, the look she threw at Jasper left him in no doubt that she was seriously disappointed in him. She despatched Gerald on an errand to fetch a further supply of tonic from her doctor and as soon as he was out of the door she turned on Jasper.

‘I thought you were going to Bath to save my poor son from this woman?’

‘I was going to look into the matter,’ he corrected her. ‘Having done so, I have given up all plans of returning to Markham for the time being.’

‘Aha. Then you admit my son is ensnared.’

‘Miss Prentess is an heiress, Gloriana. Does that not please you?’

‘If that is the case why did she take his money from him? Besides, she is a nobody, and she is too old for him.’ Gloriana was determined not to be appeased. ‘She is three-and-twenty if she is a day. And her birth—who knows anything about the girl, save that she is heir to the Middlemass fortune?’

He smiled slightly.

‘That would be enough for most mothers.’

Gloriana looked at him and for a moment her guard dropped.

‘I only want his happiness, Markham. If you could assure me of that I could be reconciled.’

‘I wish that were possible, but I cannot believe it.’ He frowned. ‘You know he has offered her marriage, and she refused him?’

‘He wrote to tell me. I hoped that would be the end of it, but today he seems as beguiled as ever.’

‘I know, ma’am. I have failed to find anything against the lady. However, my enquiries about her friend Mrs Logan have proved far more interesting. She is the widow of a soldier and the story goes that he quit the army to open a gambling house in Portsmouth. When Logan died, his widow sold up and came to Bath, where she now lives in respectable retirement. I am not in the habit of listening to the gossip-mongers, but having watched the lady at work at one of Mrs Wilby’s little parties I know that she is very good with the cards. Good enough to be a professional.’ He strode to the window and stood for a moment, looking out. ‘Add that to the skill shown by both Miss Prentess and her aunt and I cannot help thinking that there is more to their little card parties than mere social entertainment. I would wager that at the end of the evening the three ladies come away from the tables considerably richer than they started.’

‘A gaming hell. Oh my heavens.’ Gloriana resorted to her handkerchief. ‘To think my poor boy should be caught in the tangles of such women.’

Jasper shook his head.

‘By London standards the stakes are trivial, and the play is certainly not deep enough to cause concern. There is no faro bank, something which attracted a great deal of criticism when employed by several high-born ladies in London twenty years ago. But the suspicion persists that they run their little parties at the Crescent for profit. Not that there is anything wrong with that, if they would but own it.’

‘In Royal Crescent? It would never be permitted!’

‘No, ma’am, I suppose you are right.’

‘And you have spoken to Gerald about this? You have told him the sort of woman he has given his heart to?’

‘I have tried, but he is deaf to any criticism of Miss Prentess.’ He turned away from the window, his jaw set. ‘My cousin is seriously besotted with the woman. I think he would have to witness the lady’s fall from grace for himself before he would see her for what she really is.’

‘Then that is what must happen.’

There was such an air of grim determination behind the words that the corners of Jasper’s mouth lifted a trifle.

‘I’m afraid wishing won’t make it happen, ma’am.’

‘No, but you could,’ came the confident reply. ‘You have a reputation with the ladies, Markham, your flirtations are forever gracing the society pages. You must seduce Susannah Prentess!’