‘Yes?’
‘Friday morning, my lord. You asked me to lay out your riding dress because you was going riding with Mr Barnabus, but then you had a message from the young gentleman, sir, saying as how he was indisposed.’
‘Yes, I remember that,’ said Jasper, a touch impatiently. ‘What of it?’
Peters fixed his eyes on some spot on the wall and said woodenly, ‘I saw him walking with Miss Prentess that self-same morning. They was in Henrietta Street. I didn’t think anything of it at the time, and wouldn’t have mentioned it, only you wanted to know about the young lady, and I thought that mighty odd...’
Yes, very odd indeed, thought Jasper, and when he had tackled Gerald, his cousin looked sheepish and laughed it off.
‘Oh, well, you know how it is, cos,’ he said. ‘I thought you’d be a trifle vexed if you knew why I had cried off, but Miss Prentess asked me particularly to come with her.’
Gerald apologised and they left it at that, but Jasper didn’t like to think his cousin was keeping secrets from him, and even less did he like the thought that Susannah was encouraging him to do so.
Jasper had even taken to walking out every morning and keeping a watch for Miss Prentess’s carriage. He had been rewarded just once, on a misty morning when he saw the vehicle bowling along Horse Street. He had quickened his pace and was just in time to see it sweep across the bridge and turn on to the Wells Road. He did not know if Miss Prentess was inside on that occasion, nor did he have any idea of its destination. All he knew was that both Miss Prentess and her aunt were in Bath for the concert the same evening.
He had seen her almost as soon as he entered the Assembly Rooms. Her gown of kingfisher-blue satin was an unusual choice for an unmarried lady, but he had to admit it suited her, contrasting with the gleaming golden curls piled around her head. He tried to approach her at the interval, but she was at the centre of a crowd and not all Jasper’s considerable address could separate Miss Prentess from her friends and admirers. Instead he escorted Mrs Wilby out of the concert room in search of refreshment.
‘We have not seen you since the afternoon at Royal Crescent,’ she remarked, encouraged to speak by his silence.
‘No, I have been rather busy,’ he handed her a glass of wine. ‘I thought I saw Miss Prentess, however. Early this morning, heading out of Bath.’
If he had not been watching closely he would have missed the slight tremor of the widow’s hand as she held the wine to her lips. Her answer, when it came, was composed.
‘You are mistaken, my lord. That was merely our carriage, going off to collect provisions.’
‘You send your servants in your own carriage, ma’am? Is that not rather extravagant? How far do they have to travel?’ He added helpfully, ‘I saw it heading off on the Wells Road.’
The hunted look in the widow’s eyes convinced him he was on to something.
‘N-not far, but the vegetables are so much better, you know, from out of town.’ Her fan fluttered nervously. ‘We should be going back, my lord. The concert will be starting again soon and I do so dislike latecomers...’
He escorted her back to her seat and as soon as he moved away she had her head close to her niece and was talking animatedly. Jasper stood watching, until Susannah looked up and met his eyes. Her face was impassive but he was close enough to read a frown in her clear gaze. He smiled and inclined his head, but she immediately looked away, and when the concert ended she whisked her aunt out of the building before he could approach them.
* * *
‘If mine was a suspicious nature I should say Miss Prentess was avoiding me,’ he murmured, thinking back to that concert as he strode along High Street a few days later. It was Tuesday. Gerald was intent upon going to Royal Crescent that evening and Jasper could offer no good reason why he should not do so. ‘Well, I shall accompany Gerald this evening. She can hardly avoid me in her own drawing room.’
A familiar figure on the other side of the road caught his eye.
‘Charles!’ As the man stopped, Jasper crossed the road to greet him. ‘What the devil are you doing in Bath?’
‘I might ask you the same thing,’ retorted Charles Camerton, taking Jasper’s hand in a friendly grip.
‘Family matters,’ said Jasper vaguely. ‘Are you staying at the York or the Christopher?’
‘Devil a bit, they are too far above my touch,’ replied Charles. ‘I am at the White Hart. I have been visiting my godmother in Radstock. Doing the pretty, you know, in the hopes that she will die soon and leave me her fortune.’
Since Jasper knew Charles to be very fond of his godmother, he grinned at this.
‘Then what are you doing in Bath?’ he asked again.
‘She thinks that a treatment at the hot baths will do her good. I am here to seek out lodgings for her.’ He glanced up at the lowering sky. ‘Although I have persuaded her she should not attempt the journey for another month at least. We are barely out of February and it looks like snow is on the way.’
‘So you are here for a few days?’ Jasper said, an idea growing in his mind. ‘Will you dine with me this evening?’
‘With pleasure,’ returned Charles, promptly. ‘There is little else to do in a watering place populated by the old and the infirm.’
Jasper smiled. ‘Oh, I think I can find you some entertainment. You are fond of cards, I believe...’
* * *
‘Miss Prentess!’
Susannah gave her hand to Gerald and he raised it to his lips.
‘Welcome, sir.’ She looked behind him. ‘You are alone?’
‘Yes. I am sorry I missed your last party.’
She smiled at him as she gently withdrew her fingers from his grasp.
‘I do not expect you to attend us every week.’
‘But I like to come.’ He glanced around the drawing room and lowered his voice. ‘I like to help where I can, Susannah, which is why I was so pleased you allowed me to escort you to see Odesse the other day.’
‘I hope your mama will like the lace you ordered for her.’
‘I am sure she will, and if she tells her friends that may bring in more orders.’
Susannah smiled at him.
‘It may indeed. You see, you have been a great help, Mr Barnabus—’
‘Gerald,’ he corrected her. ‘Are we not friends enough now to dispense with formalities?’
‘Gerald, then.’ She shook off the twinge of guilt at allowing such familiarity. She had made it plain they could only ever be friends, after all. Then, hating herself for succumbing, she asked the question that had been in her mind ever since he arrived. ‘Has Lord Markham left Bath?’
‘No, he is still here and means to look in presently. But enough of this. Are you free? Will you play picquet with me?’
She shook her head.
‘You know you always lose.’
‘Tonight I feel lucky,’ he declared. ‘And I have improved vastly since we last played. Mrs Logan said so.’
She laughed at that.
‘Very well, then, but do not expect me to hold back. I shall show you no mercy!’
* * *
In the event, mercy was not necessary. Susannah had chosen a table where she could watch the door, and such was her distraction that Gerald won the first game. The second was closer, but the entrance of more visitors caused her to lose track of the discards and she was defeated again.
‘I told you I had improved,’ chortled Gerald, sweeping the coins from the table.
‘You are very right,’ agreed Susannah, getting up. ‘But perhaps you will oblige me by taking your winnings to the loo table and giving my aunt a chance to recoup.’
With a smile she excused herself, glancing at the clock. It was gone ten, there would be very few visitors arriving now. Even as she thought this the door opened and Lord Markham walked in. His appearance made her spirits leap most shamefully. Susannah could not deny that she had been looking out for him, as she had done in vain the previous week. He mig
ht be suspicious of her, and cause her nerves to flutter alarmingly, but any party where he was not present was an insipid affair. When she had seen him at the concert she had wanted so much to speak to him, but Aunt Maude had warned her that he had asked awkward questions, and she knew it would be folly to linger and risk further interrogation. All such thoughts were bundled into the back of her mind now as she moved forwards to greet him, wondering why it was that he was not charmed by her smile like every other man in the room.
‘Lord Markham.’
She held out her hand but, despite steeling herself, his touch still sent a tremor of excitement running up her arm, and when his lips brushed her fingers the excitement flooded through her before settling into an indescribable ache somewhere low in her body.
‘Your servant, Miss Prentess. I have brought someone to meet you. May I present Mr Charles Camerton? He is an avid card player.’
‘Indeed?’ She subjected the newcomer to a swift appraisal. He looked genial enough, some years older than the viscount, she guessed. His figure was good, his clothes elegant and his curling brown hair was fashionably short. A man used to the London salons, perhaps. ‘I hope we will not disappoint you, sir. This is merely a friendly little gathering.’
‘Those are the best sort, Miss Prentess. I am here with every intention of enjoying myself.’
‘Then what will you play, sir? I could find two more players, if you and Lord Markham would like to play whist, or...’
Mr Camerton looked around the room until his eyes came to rest upon Kate, who was at that moment opening two fresh packs of cards.
‘Vingt-et-un,’ offered Susannah, following his gaze. ‘It is very popular.’
‘And it is my favourite game. If you will excuse me?’
With a practised smile and a bow he moved off towards Kate’s table.
‘Which leaves you with me.’
The viscount’s low murmur was like a feather on her skin. She glanced at her arm to see if it was covered in tell-tale goose-bumps. Thankfully there were none.
‘I am sure we can find something—’
‘I thought we might play picquet. You and I,’ he added, so there should be no misunderstanding.
‘Thank you, sir, but I think not.’
‘Afraid?’
She would not rise to his taunt. Instead she replied frankly, ‘Your cousin tells me you are an expert at the game. I will not risk it.’
She looked about her, hoping to distract him. ‘My aunt is playing macao and there is room at her table...’
‘If you were a true gambler you would not be able to resist the challenge.’
Her chin went up.
‘If you were a true gentleman you would not press me so.’
That only made him smile more.
‘Is it the game that frightens you, or me?’
Her cheeks flamed at his quiet words. She could feel the heat flooding through her and her heart was beating wildly, making her breathless. Her senses were heightened, as if by a sudden danger. She was enveloped by his closeness. She wanted to flee, but was rooted to the spot. She must be rational. This was her drawing room, they were surrounded by people. What possible harm could come to her here? Yet everything around them was muted. It was as if they were alone, shut off from the world. She could smell the tangy scent of him, sandalwood and lemon and a faint, indefinable fragrance that she now recognised was his alone.
Her eyes were fixed on his chin, on that mobile mouth with its finely sculpted lips and the faint creases at each side that deepened when he smiled. She dare not look higher and instead dragged her eyes down and stared at the diamond winking from the folds of his neck cloth.
‘Well, Miss Prentess?’
He was so close she felt his breath on her brow, soft as a caress.
This must stop. Now. Gathering all her strength she drew herself up and forced herself to look him in the face.
Well, she fixed her eyes somewhere around his left temple.
‘It is not fear, Lord Markham,’ she said coolly. ‘It is common sense. One should never take unnecessary risks.’
She turned to walk away and he touched her arm.
‘One more thing. You were seen with Gerald on Friday morning.’
She spun back, quickly schooling her features into a look of haughty unconcern.
‘What is so wrong about that, my lord?’
‘He cried off from an appointment with me to accompany you.’
She had not known that, and regretted it, but she was determined the viscount should not know it. She summoned a glittering smile, as if it was her victory.
‘That is unfortunate, of course, but it is no concern of mine.’
The tightening of his jaw told her he was angry. With a slight nod she turned and walked away from him, the knowledge that he was watching her sending a ripple of unease along the length of her spine.
* * *
‘Well, Camerton, what did you think of Bath’s latest hell?’ asked Jasper.
They were walking away from Royal Crescent, keeping up a brisk pace to offset the icy wind that whipped around them, tugging at their coats. Charles Camerton laughed at Jasper’s description.
‘Mrs Wilby’s soirée is no hell, my friend. The stakes are so low they would be ridiculed in town.’
‘True, they are unlikely to arouse the interest of the magistrates,’ agreed Jasper. ‘You saw no instances of foul play?’
‘None. Mrs Wilby and her niece are canny players, as sharp as any females I have ever encountered.’
‘Aye, and they favour the games where skill and a good memory will aid them. What of Mrs Logan? I noticed you spent a great deal of time at her table.’
Camerton grinned.
‘With such paltry sums at stake I had to find something to entertain me! She is different and I like that. I suspect she was a professional gamester at some time. She gave me a run for my money. However...’ he patted
his pocket ‘...I came away the richer, so I am not complaining.’
‘Nor do the other men that play there, but I am convinced they rarely win.’
‘Ah, but they are not there for the cards. They are there to worship at the feet of La Prentess.’
‘You noticed that?’
‘Of course. She is a diamond. Your cousin Barnabus is most definitely enamoured.’ Jasper frowned. That was not what he wanted to hear. He dragged his thoughts back to Charles, who was still speaking. ‘And you say she is an heiress? Interesting. With her looks she should be in town. She could make a brilliant alliance.’
‘That is what I thought,’ agreed Jasper, frowning. ‘I believe her family come from London. Dammit, Charles, there is some mystery here.’
‘And you have an interest in La Prentess so you want to know what it might be?’
Jasper was quick to disclaim.
‘I am only interested in saving my cousin from a disastrous liaison.’
‘Don’t see that marriage to an heiress would be that much of a disaster.’
Jasper had said very much the same to Gloriana, but now it was important to him that Susannah Prentess should not marry Gerald.
‘You know,’ mused Charles, ‘I might even have a touch at La Prentess myself.’
‘I beg you won’t!’
Charles laughed. ‘No, I won’t. Her friend Mrs Logan is much more to my taste. I shall leave La Prentess to you, Jasper.’
They had reached the top of Milsom Street and Jasper was relieved to part from his friend. Their conversation was becoming far too uncomfortable.
* * *
A week of chill winds and snow flurries kept all but the most hardy indoors. Servants scattered cinders over the footpaths to prevent pedestrians from slipping and Aunt Maude insisted they take chairs to the Assembly Rooms the following Monday, rather than risk the horses on the icy cobbles.
Susannah expected the rooms to be very thin of company, but the Dress Ball was incentive enough for Bath’s residents to turn out in force. Susannah was
wearing another new gown from Odesse, a cream silk with a finely frilled hem and short puff sleeves, the rose-coloured decoration set off by matching long gloves. She carried a silk shawl embroidered with tiny rosebuds to combat the icy air that she knew would penetrate even the building, at least until the ballroom filled up and everyone was dancing.
Gerald was looking out for her and immediately led her away to join a country dance. Susannah was surprised to find Kate was already on the floor, partnered by Charles Camerton.
‘You, Kate, dancing?’ she teased when the movement of the dance brought them together.
The widow’s self-conscious look surprised Susannah even more and when there was a break in the dancing she sought out her friend.
‘I do not think I have ever known you to dance here,’ she remarked. ‘And with Mr Camerton, too.’
Kate shrugged one white shoulder and busied herself with her fan.
‘He seems keen to dance with me. And after the way he fleeced me so unmercifully on Tuesday I thought it might help to find out what he is about.’
Susannah sighed, momentarily diverted.
‘Our losses last week were very disappointing. Aunt Maude went down a couple of hundred pounds to Lord Markham and I even lost at picquet to Gerald Barnabus.’
‘I am beginning to suspect it was a concerted effort by those three gentlemen.’
‘By Mr Camerton and the viscount, perhaps, but not Gerald, that was entirely my own fault. I was...distracted.’
‘Well, we must be on our guard,’ said Kate. ‘Such losses cannot be sustained for long.’
‘Perhaps we should refuse to admit Mr Camerton and the viscount in future.’
Kate’s response was swift.
‘Oh, no, we must hope they keep coming.’ She added airily, ‘That is why I am going to dance again with Mr Camerton now. I hope to lull him into complacency, so that when we play again I will catch him off-guard.’
Kate sailed off in search of her prey. She was clearly enjoying herself and Susannah was not convinced by the reasons she had given for dancing with Mr Camerton.
‘Something amuses you, Miss Prentess?’
The viscount’s voice at her shoulder was warm and seductive, like being wrapped in sables. Susannah scolded herself for being fanciful.
Behind the Rake's Wicked Wager Page 7