She chuckled at that.
‘I give you credit for your honesty, at least, sir.’
She applied herself to her food, gradually relaxing. Lord Markham was the perfect companion, asking nothing impertinent, amusing her with little anecdotes. As her nerves settled so her appetite improved and when her plate was empty she looked at the single syllabub glass on the table.
‘Is that for you or for me?’
‘For you.’ He picked up the spoon. ‘But I hoped you might let me share the enjoyment.’
She sat back, scandalised.
‘No, that is an outrageous idea.’
He glanced around.
‘Why? The room is empty at present. Even the servants are not attending.’ He scooped out a small spoonful of the syllabub and held it out to her.
Susannah stared at it. She must not. She dare not. Yet she sat forwards, her eyes on that tempting spoonful.
‘Go on,’ he murmured, his voice low and inviting. ‘While no one is watching. Tell me how it tastes.’
He held the spoon closer and automatically her lips parted. She took the sweet, succulent mouthful, felt the flavours burst upon her tongue. Nothing had ever tasted so delicious. Heavens, was this how Eve felt when she had tried the forbidden fruit?
* * *
Jasper watched, entranced. He saw the flicker of her eyelid, the movement of her throat as she swallowed. She ran her tongue across her lips and he felt the desire slam through him. By God, no wonder Gerald was besotted. He tore his eyes away and sat back. He was meant to be seducing her, not the other way around.
‘Well, Miss Prentess, did you enjoy that?’
She would not meet his eyes. That was perhaps as well. He was not at all sure he could sound so cool if she was looking at him.
‘Yes...no.’
‘Another spoonful, perhaps?’ He dug the spoon into the syllabub again but she lifted her hand.
‘No! There are too many people now. We will be seen.’
‘But you would like to do it again?’
Her blush gave him the answer but she said hurriedly, ‘Of course not. You are quite outrageous, my lord. We will forget that happened, if you please.’
Her voice was perfectly steady but he noted that her hand shook a little as she picked up her napkin and touched her lips. Good. She was off balance, which had been his object. That he, too, was shaken by the moment was unfortunate, but it would not happen again.
‘As you wish. But there is something else I want from you, something that is not at all outrageous.’
‘What is that?’
‘To play picquet with you.’
‘Out of the question. You have already won more than enough from my aunt.’
‘I am giving you the chance to win it all back.’
‘No.’ She rose and shook out her skirts. ‘I must return to the drawing room.’
‘As you wish.’ He held out his arm. The fingers that she laid upon his sleeve trembled a little. He fought down the impulse to put up his free hand and cover them, to protect her. That was not his purpose at all. As they left the room he asked his question again.
‘And shall we now play picquet?’
‘I have told you, no, my lord.’
He threw her a teasing glance.
‘After such a meal do I not deserve some reward?’
The look she gave him was indignant.
‘After such a meal you deserve I should not speak to you again!’
Charles Camerton and Mrs Logan were descending the stairs and they waited to let them pass.
‘We were just coming down to join you,’ Charles addressed them cheerfully. ‘Mrs Logan hopes the luck will change after a break.’
Jasper noted the rueful look the widow gave to Susannah as they passed.
‘It seems your aunt and your friend are not doing so well this evening,’ he commented as they went up the stairs.
‘We shall come about.’
‘You could recoup everything with a single game of picquet.’
‘Or lose even more.’
‘Not necessarily.’ He had her attention. ‘We need not play for money.’ He glanced up and down the staircase. They were alone. ‘I will wager my diamond pin against...’ He paused.
‘Yes?’
‘Dinner,’ he said at last. ‘You will join me for dinner at York House on Thursday night.’
Chapter Seven
Madness.
Susannah wanted to shake her head, to tell him she would not countenance such a wager, but her eyes were fixed upon the diamond. It winked at her. It was worth a king’s ransom. It would more than pay for the repairs to Florence House. She could recover the jewels she had sold today and there might even be sufficient to cover the running costs of the house until she came into her inheritance. She was silent as they made their way to the top of the stairs and when they reached the landing she allowed him to draw her to one side.
‘Well, madam, will you accept?’
She ran her tongue over her lips.
‘Dinner, you say?’
‘Yes.’
‘Alone?’
‘Of course.’
It was not to be thought of. To have dinner with him, unescorted, would ruin her reputation.
Only if it was discovered.
As if reading her thoughts he continued, ‘You need have no fear. The hotel is very quiet at present and you may come veiled. My man will serve us and he is very...discreet.’
‘It seems you have thought of everything, my lord.’
‘I like to think so.’
‘If I win you will give me the diamond.’
‘I will.’
‘And if I lose, I will have dinner with you at your hotel. Nothing more.’
‘Nothing more.’
‘We will play the best of three games,’ she declared.
‘If that will suit you.’ The viscount bowed.
‘Perfectly.’ Having made her decision, she led the way into the drawing room and headed for the empty table in the corner, collecting several new packs of playing cards on her way.
* * *
Susannah unwrapped the first pack, thankful that she had taken only a small glass of wine with her supper. She drew the low card and shuffled, holding out the cards for the viscount to cut. She could do this. It was merely a case of steady nerves and keeping a mental note of all the discards. She had done it hundreds of times before. As dealer she knew she must be on the defensive in the first game, but she had a strong hand and after making her discards she was slightly ahead on points when play started. Her optimism was dented when the viscount won the final trick.
‘You were unlucky.’ He reached for a new pack. ‘But you showed some skill. You may do better this time.’
‘I shall indeed.’
She studied her hand and chose her discards carefully. By the time play started she felt sure she had the stronger hand. Winning the first trick boosted her confidence and she played with conviction, narrowly winning the second game. The third, however, started badly and ended worse. The viscount won every trick.
‘Capotted,’ she declared, carefully putting down her cards. She sank her teeth into her bottom lip. She must admit defeat gracefully. ‘Congratulations, my lord. You have won.’
‘You play very well, Miss Prentess. I think you deserve one last chance.’ He drew the diamond pin from his neck cloth and placed it on the table between them. ‘What say you we play one more game, winner takes all?’
She laughed. It sounded a trifle reckless, even to her own ears.
‘What do I have to lose?’
She reached out to take the pin between her thumb and finger. The viscount’s hand closed over hers. A sudden flicker of candlelight made his eyes gleam with a devilish glow.
‘There is one minor alteration to the terms of our wager.’ His voice was smooth, as cold and deadly as steel. ‘If I win this game you come to the hotel for dinner and you stay. All night.’
With a gasp she drew bac
k. Unmoved, he continued.
‘You have my word I will not seduce you. I will not even touch you without your permission. But you will stay in my rooms until morning.’
‘What is the point of your assurances?’ she challenged him. ‘I shall be ruined whether you touch me or no.’
‘Only if word of it gets out. And I shall tell no one.’
She sat up very straight, staring at him.
‘Why are you doing this? Why force me to dine with you and stay in your rooms if you do not want to...to seduce me?’
His smile sent a shiver running down her back.
‘Oh I want to seduce you, madam, but I have never yet forced any woman to accept my advances. So what do you say to the wager, Miss Susannah Prentess? A diamond worth thousands against a night with me?’
Susannah stared down at the glittering gem. She had beaten him once, and only lost the third game by ill luck. She had his measure now. Surely it was worth the risk. She realised that she was more of a gambler than she had ever known.
Slowly and deliberately she unwrapped a new pack.
* * *
‘My trick, I believe, Miss Prentess. And my game.’
Susannah put down her cards. It had not even been close. The viscount had started with the strongest hand, and although she had recovered a couple of tricks the outcome had never been in doubt. She swallowed, suddenly feeling very numb. When she managed to speak, her voice seemed to belong to some other creature, someone calm and not at all shaken by the thought of what she had agreed.
‘What time do you want me to join you on Thursday?’
‘Shall we say seven o’clock? My man will meet you at the entrance, you will not need to announce yourself at the desk.’
She raised her chin.
‘What if I do not come? What if I refuse to honour the wager?’
His eyes rested upon her. There was no hint of blue in them now. They were slate grey, dark and implacable.
‘You will come. It is not in your nature to go back on your word.’
The little flicker of defiance died.
‘You are right.’ She put her hands on the table to steady herself as she rose to her feet. ‘If you will excuse me, I have neglected my other guests long enough.’
‘Of course.’ He stood, his bow the perfect mix of deference and respect. ‘Until Thursday, Miss Prentess.’
* * *
When she had gone Jasper resumed his seat. He took up the diamond pin and carefully secured it amongst the folds of his neckcloth. He had never before pursued a woman who was so reluctant to succumb to his advances. For an instant his conscience pricked him. He could be ruining an innocent woman.
No. He was saving his innocent cousin. Susannah
Prentess must never marry Gerald. How that came about was up to her—if she refused to give him up, then Jasper would make sure Gerald knew about her visit to York House. His cousin might be naïve, but he would not countenance marriage to a woman who had been unfaithful to him.
* * *
‘Your visitor, my lord.’
Peters ushered the veiled figure into the small parlour that doubled as a dining room and went out again, shutting the door behind him.
‘Welcome, ma’am.’
Jasper went towards her. She stood unmoving, and at last he reached out and lifted the veil from her face. She allowed him to remove her cloak and bonnet. He noted the pleated muslin around her shoulders, ending in a fashionable neck ruff. Chosen deliberately, he suspected, to hide her charms. Her gown was a deep sea-green silk, with a matching silk cord tied in a bow beneath her breasts. The ends of the cord hung down almost to the hem and were decorated with silk tassels that bobbed and shimmered whenever she moved, drawing the eye towards the matching shoes and the occasional glimpse of a dainty ankle. Her hair was caught up in a knot on her head, from which a few golden curls dangled enticingly over her ears and glinted in the candlelight. She had never looked more beautiful, or more frightened.
He took her hand.
‘You are ice-cold,’ he remarked, drawing her down on to a sofa before the fire.
‘I took a chair. I did not want any of my people to know my destination.’
‘What of Mrs Wilby?’
‘My aunt has gone to the Fancy Ball at the Upper Rooms with Mrs Logan. I told them I was...unwell.’
Again he was obliged to crush a prickle of conscience. He was doing this for Gerald. There need be no adverse consequences of this evening, as long as the lady agreed to his terms.
‘There is no need for anyone to know you are here, except my man, Peters, and I can vouch for his discretion.’ He smiled, hoping to dispel some of the anxiety in her face. ‘I have sent him off for the night. There will be no one to disturb us.’ He pointed to the table on the far side of the room. ‘You see your dinner; everything is there so we may serve ourselves, when you are ready.’
‘I am ready now. Let us get on.’ She tugged off her gloves. ‘I have urgent business that takes me out of Bath early tomorrow morning.’
She stalked to the table. Her whole demeanour indicated that she wanted to get this over with as quickly as possible. She was not intent upon flattering him, Jasper thought ruefully, as he poured wine into two glasses.
‘Miss Prentess, we have a long evening ahead of us. It would pass much easier if we observe the basic civilities.’ He handed her a glass. ‘Will you cry quits with me, at least until we have finished our meal?’
There was a stormy look in her eyes, but after a brief hesitation she gave a little nod.
‘By all means, my lord.’
‘Good.’ He held out her chair, his eyes drawn to the smooth curve of her neck between the frilled edge of the ruff and her upswept hair. He resisted the temptation to bend and plant a gentle kiss there—she was not to be won by such a liberty.
Susannah remained upright on her chair, her nerves at full stretch. She did not understand the man. The air was thick with tension, every word, every gesture, seemed loaded with meaning. When she had taken her seat all she could think of was his hands on the chair behind her, just inches from her shoulders. It made her skin tingle. He had not touched her, and when he took his own seat he looked cool and at his ease. From the soup to the syllabub he served her with skill and courtesy, carving for her the most delicate slices from the roast duck, helping her to a portion of the sole in red wine, a sliver of the potato pudding. There was never a hint that she was anything more than an honoured guest, but all the time she was aware of him sitting across the table from her. She kept her feet tucked beneath her chair lest they should accidentally brush his.
She watched his hands as he served her, remembering how he had held out the syllabub when he had taken her down to supper at Royal Crescent, his long fingers holding the spoon to her lips, the wonderfully decadent sweetness of the soft mixture on her tongue. Of course she would not allow him such outrageous freedom again, but there was no denying that the syllabub set before her this evening was dull and lifeless in comparison.
Her lips were dry, but she would not run her tongue across them. That would show weakness and might rouse in him the desire she suspected was just below the surface. Yet he insisted he did not wish to seduce her, that he would do nothing without her permission. She sipped thoughtfully at her wine. Was this tension, the awareness, only within her? A surreptitious glance across the table showed that he was watching her, a faint smile on his handsome face.
And he was handsome. Sinfully so. She thought back to when they had danced together, remembering the covetous looks of the other ladies. How they would envy her, here alone with him. It must be the dream, the fantasy, of so many females. Yet Susannah knew it should remain as nothing more than a fantasy—the reality of what could lead from such an encounter as this was too horrendous, too devastating to consider. She must be on her guard against the feelings he aroused in her. How many times had she heard a poor, misguided girl say, ‘I could not help myself’?
* * *
&nbs
p; ‘If you have eaten your fill, ma’am, shall we retire from the table? It would be more comfortable to sit before the fire.’
The viscount’s words dragged her back from her reverie. He came around the table and held out his hand to her. Not by the flicker of an eyelid would she admit to the flash of awareness that shot through her when she placed her hand in his. She refused to lean upon him, even though her knees threatened to give way beneath her and her whole body was tingling and alive in a way that she had never known before. Her breasts were hard, pushing against the thin silk of her bodice and there was an ache of desire low down in her belly. She felt as if she was caught in some giant web. It wrapped around her, easing her closer towards her escort. When they reached the sofa it took all her effort to push against that invisible web and place herself at the very end, as far from that disturbing presence as it was possible to be.
The viscount did not appear to notice. Susannah held her breath, ready to leap up should he seat himself too close, or press himself up against her, but instead he stood a little to one side, looking down at her.
It was unbearable. If he had pounced, leered or directed lewd innuendo towards her she would have known how to react, but there was nothing lover-like or menacing in his behaviour. They might have been the best of friends, enjoying a meal together. Save that they were not friends. They were strangers, and they were totally alone in his suite of rooms in the most expensive hotel in Bath. Taking her courage in her hands, Susannah forced herself to look up and ask him a direct question.
‘Why are you doing this?’
He hesitated a heart’s beat before replying.
‘I want to make sure you do not marry my cousin.’
She blinked at him. Was that all? Relief brought the first real smile of the evening to her face.
‘Then you have gone to a great deal of trouble for nothing, my lord. I have already told you I do not mean to marry him, and I am pretty sure Gerald has told you the same.’
‘I saw you,’ he said. ‘Coming out of the jewellers on Milsom Street.’
She raised her brows.
‘And that convinced you we are to be married? You are very quick to jump to conclusions.’
‘Then tell me what you were doing there.’
Behind the Rake's Wicked Wager Page 10