Behind the Rake's Wicked Wager(18)

‘Well, I hope she will not be too long,’ muttered Mrs Wilby. ‘We need her to run one of the tables.’

There was no time for more. General and Mrs Sanstead were announced and after that there was a steady stream of arrivals. Susannah organised four guests at a whist table, found a partner to play picquet with Major Crommelly, explaining to him that she was unable to do so as she had to help her aunt entertain all the guests. Later, she gave in to the pleas of a group of young gentlemen to sit down with them to play a noisy game of vingt-et-un. She laughed and joked and flirted gently with them all, making sure that not one of them lost more than fifty pounds. Of course she could not dictate to her guests when they played amongst themselves, but it was her strict rule, and she insisted that her aunt and Kate Logan kept to it, despite many of the younger men bragging how much they could lose in one sitting at other houses.

* * *

She was pleased when Kate arrived and she could leave the table and tour the room, making sure that every one of her guests was occupied. No one would guess from her smiles and serene countenance that her mind was elsewhere, that she was watching the clock, and wondering what time Gerald Barnabus might arrive.

There was the bustle of another arrival and Susannah looked up hopefully. It was with mixed feelings that she saw Lord Markham and Mr Camerton walk in. Aunt Maude was already near the door to welcome them so Susannah made no attempt to approach. She watched Mr Camerton seek out Mrs Logan and join her table, while the viscount was persuaded to sit down with his hostess for a game of loo. Susannah could relax a little, at least until the game broke up and she saw the viscount crossing the room towards her.

The tug of attraction was as strong as ever. He moved between the tables with lithe grace, his tall, athletic form clad in the uniform black evening coat and black knee-breeches. She was forcibly reminded of a hunting panther.

And she was the prey.

Shaking off such nonsensical notions Susannah greeted him coolly, which he did not seem to notice. Her hand went automatically into his grasp without her even realising it. As he bowed she gazed at his dark head, trying to calm the fierce tattoo that was beating within her breast as his lips skimmed her fingers. It was as much as she could do to stand still. She must talk to Kate about what these sensations might mean—some instinct told her that Aunt Wilby would not give her an honest answer.

‘Miss Prentess.’ He straightened, subjecting her to that glinting smile. There was something else in his eyes, a dangerous recklessness that did nothing to calm her pulse. She withdrew her fingers, resisting the urge to cradle them in her other hand. She must act naturally, to treat him as she would any other guest.

‘Are you tired of Lanterloo, my lord?’

‘For the moment. I came to see if you would play picquet with me.’

She managed a soft laugh.

‘You know I will not, my lord.’

‘Then for the moment I shall be an observer.’

‘As you wish.’ He made no attempt to move out of her way. ‘How long do you intend to remain in Bath, my lord?’

‘That depends.’

‘Upon what?’

As soon as the words were uttered she knew she had fallen into his trap. He turned his dark eyes upon her again. She had no doubt that those handsome features and charming smile had undone many a young lady. Flirting with the other young gentlemen of Bath had always seemed an innocent, harmless pastime, but with Lord Markham no remark was ever innocent or harmless. Once again she found breathing difficult, she knew the colour was fluctuating in her cheeks. She wanted to move closer to that lean, muscular body and it was almost a physical effort to keep her distance.

‘Mr Barnabus!’

The butler’s sonorous announcement could not have been better timed.

She blinked, as if woken from a trance, and with a hurried ‘excuse me!’ she stepped past him and moved swiftly across the room.

‘Mr Barnabus.’ She held out her hands to him. ‘You are very welcome.’ She leaned a little closer, saying quietly, ‘Well? Have you been to Florence House?’

He squeezed her hands.

‘Yes. You may be easy. I have seen Tyler and given him the money. He will begin the new work next week.’

Susannah gave a little sigh of relief, her smile growing.

‘Thank you, I can never tell you how grateful I am to you.’ She tucked her hand into his arm and led him further into the room.

‘I see my cousin is here,’ he remarked. ‘Would it—?’ He stopped, looking about to make sure he could not be overheard. ‘I do not like to keep things from him. May I tell him where I have been, why I am so late?’

‘Oh good heavens, no!’ she gasped, horrified.

‘But Jasper is a great gun. I am sure he would understand—’

‘And I am sure he would not.’ She laid her hand on his sleeve, saying urgently, ‘Please, Gerald, on no account would I have the viscount know anything about this.’ When he looked uncertain she added, ‘You promised. When I explained to you about Florence House, you gave me your word that you would not tell a soul.’

‘Oh very well, Susannah, if you insist.’

‘I do.’ She squeezed his arm. ‘Thank you, Gerald. Now what can I do to reward you? Shall we play at macao together?’

* * *

Jasper watched the little scene from across the room. There was no doubting her pleasure in seeing his cousin, and the boy was as besotted as ever. He had noticed when he had kissed her hand that she wore no rings—why should they keep their betrothal a secret? They were both of age and Gerald’s nature was so open, so honest, that he would abhor any subterfuge. His eyes narrowed. It must come from the lady, then. She had secrets, and in his book that made her an unsuitable match for his young cousin.

He looked around for Charles Camerton and saw him sitting at a small table with Mrs Logan. From the pile of coins at his elbow Jasper guessed that he was winning. That was very good. Now he, too, must continue with his plan.

* * *

‘How goes it, Aunt?’

Susannah took advantage of a break in the play to speak to Mrs Wilby. The lady shook her head, making the lilac ostrich feathers on her turban tremble.

‘Badly,’ she muttered as she collected up the used cards. ‘Lord Markham has taken two hundred off me already.’

‘And Kate tells me she has just lost fifty pounds to his friend.’ Susannah frowned.

‘I have never known luck like it,’ continued Aunt Maude. ‘I admit I am loath to have the viscount play at my table again.’

‘Then what do you propose I do with him?’ Susannah felt the smile tugging at her mouth, despite the gravity of the situation.

‘I do not know, my love, but I pray you will come up with something. He has made me so nervous that I cannot think clearly, and that, you know, is fatal to our success.’

Susannah was well aware of it. One needed a clear head if one was to succeed at card games. She hoped he would play at whist with Major Crommelly and the Sansteads, at least then any losses would not be hers, but the viscount seemed determined to play against Aunt Maude. Susannah watched as he won another game of loo and pocketed his winnings. A few pounds—a hundred at most. A paltry sum to Lord Markham, but Susannah was well aware that the losses this evening were mounting up. Thus, when the viscount asked if he might take her down to supper she agreed, reasoning that anything she could do to keep him away from her aunt would give that lady some welcome relief. However, as soon as he pulled her hand on to his arm she began to have doubts about the wisdom of being alone with him.

‘Perhaps we should ask Mrs Logan and Mr Camerton if they would like to join us...’

‘I have already ascertained that they would not.’ Something of her disappointment must have shown in her face for he smiled. ‘I vow, ma’am, I begin to think you are afraid of being alone with me.’

‘Nonsense. Why should that be?’

‘My reputation, perhaps?’

‘I know nothing of your reputation, Lord Markham. Is it so very bad?’

‘Perfectly dreadful,’ he replied cheerfully. ‘At least it is in London. I am relieved that no one here knows of it.’

She stopped as a sudden worry assailed her.

‘And just what is your reputation for, my lord—gambling?’

‘No. Breaking hearts.’ Again his smiling eyes teased her. He covered her hand with his own and held it on his sleeve. ‘Do you wish to run away from me now?’

Susannah’s chin went up.

‘I do not run away from anything, my lord.’

It was still early and the supper room was empty save for the servants. The viscount guided her to a table at the far end of the room.

Where we will not be overheard.

She stifled the thought. This was her house, her staff were in attendance. No harm could come to her here. The viscount insisted she sit down and went off to fill a plate for her. Susannah looked at the table, playing with the napkins and the cutlery. She would not watch him: she was all too aware of the graceful power of his movements. She would be better gathering her wits. The viscount had an uncanny knack of disconcerting her, she must be on her guard.