Behind the Rake's Wicked Wager(22)

He dozed, his dreams filled with images of Susannah. He was even aware of the faint trace of flowery perfume he had noticed on her skin when they had kissed. In his dreams she was standing beside him and he reached for her. He sighed when she caught his hands and held them. The fog of sleep lifted and he realised that Susannah really was standing beside the bed, but she wasn’t holding his hands, she was binding them together.

‘What the—?’

‘Please do not struggle, my lord, that will only make the bonds tighter.’

He blinked away the final remnants of his dream. She had used the silk cord from her gown to bind his hands together and had tied the cord around the bedpost. He tried to sit up, but his arms were yanked awkwardly towards the post and he collapsed back again.

‘What the hell do you think you are doing?’

‘I am leaving, and I am making sure you cannot prevent me.’ She watched him tug hard against his bonds. ‘It is silk, you know, and incredibly strong. I doubt you will break it.’

‘There is no need for this. I told you I would not stop you.’

‘You also told me you would not touch me,’ she retorted.

The candles were guttering in their sockets but there was still sufficient light to see that she looked incredibly desirable with her flushed cheeks and those golden curls in disarray.

‘Susannah—’

‘Miss Prentess to you.’

‘You cannot leave.’

‘Oh, yes, I can.’ She picked up the key. ‘You should have hidden this, my lord, if you really wanted to keep me your prisoner.’

‘Prisoner be damned! I locked the door to protect your honour.’

‘Hah!’

He was not surprised as her scathing response, but he tried again.

‘Please, Susannah. Think. It is not light yet. It is not safe for you to go out alone.’

‘That is not your concern.’

As she walked away to the other room he pulled again at the silk rope, feeling it tighten on his wrists. There was no chance of freeing himself quickly. Frantically he searched his mind for any argument to stop her from leaving.

‘But you promised, the wager—’

She returned with her cloak about her shoulders and her bonnet in one hand.

‘I have dined with you, and it wants only an hour until dawn, so I have stayed with you until morning. I think you will agree I have fulfilled my part of the wager.’ She put on her bonnet and tied the strings. ‘I will bid you adieu.’

‘Good God, woman, you cannot leave me tied up—’

‘I can, and I will. Do not worry, your valet will be back in an hour or so. Of course, you might try calling for help, but this could be a little embarrassing to explain, don’t you think?’

‘Damn it all, Susannah—’

She drew herself up to her full height, and despite the tumbled curls that escaped from her bonnet she was as haughty as any aristocrat.

‘You have said quite enough, my lord. Our acquaintance is at an end. You are no longer welcome in my house and I shall not acknowledge you, should we meet in public.’

With that she swept out of the room.





Chapter Eight

Jasper stared at the closed door. One of the candles guttered and went out, increasing the gloom. With a growl of frustration he strained against the silk rope. He was not worried for himself, as Susannah had said, Peters would be back soon, but he did not like to think of her out in the darkened streets alone.

However, there was little he could do about it at present, so he tried to make himself comfortable. The fire had died away to a sullen glow and the air was growing chill, so he wriggled himself under the bedclothes. It took some time but at last he managed to cover himself sufficiently and he settled down to wait for morning.

* * *

Susannah kept her veil pulled over her face as she ran through the deserted streets. The ground was covered with a fine dusting of snow and the cold seeped through her thin slippers, numbing her toes. She had always disliked the way the silk tassels knocked against her when she moved, but now she was painfully aware of their lack. It had been her plan to use the cord tonight, if it should become necessary, and it had worked exceedingly well. She felt a twinge of guilt when she thought of leaving the viscount a prisoner. He would never forgive her for that.

A scuffle made her start and look around nervously, but although she saw shadowy figures in the alleyways and heard the occasional bark of a dog as she hurried on, no one approached her and she reached the Crescent without being accosted. She ran down the area steps and used her key to enter through the servants’ door, which she had instructed Dorcas to leave unbolted. A single lamp burned in the small servants’ hall, and Susannah saw her maid dozing by the dying embers of the fire. She stirred as Susannah secured the door.

‘Ooh, mistress, thank the Lord you are back safe.’

‘Thank heaven indeed,’ murmured Susannah, sinking into a chair.

‘My dear ma’am, you are shaking like a leaf.’

‘Y-yes. I d-didn’t realise how frightened I was.’

Dorcas was wide awake now, and approached her mistress anxiously. ‘Heaven help us! If that rascally viscount has harmed you—’

‘No, no, it was not Lord Markham,’ said Susannah. ‘It was coming back alone through the dark streets. And he is not rascally,’ she added with something of her old spirit. ‘He was merely trying to protect his cousin.’

‘Well, ’twasn’t right for him to go bullying you to dine alone with him. What Mrs Wilby would say if she knew...’

‘It was very wrong of me, I know that.’ Now that the danger was over, Susannah felt a great desire to weep and had to fight back the tears. ‘It is done, and no one is any the worse.’ She glanced out of the window, where the darkness was giving way to the first grey light of dawn. She hoped very much that Peters would return soon and free Lord Markham. Resolutely she turned her thoughts away from the viscount. ‘Come along, Dorcas. I must sleep. My carriage is ordered for eight o’clock.’

‘Never tell me you are going to Florence House in the morning.’

‘You know I must. I have arranged to call for Mrs Logan. We want to see how they go on with the new housekeeper.’ She crept up to her room, thankful that the early hour prevented Dorcas from voicing her opinions as they made their way through the silent house.

* * *

When Peters entered the viscount’s sitting room at York House Jasper greeted him with an angry bellow. Peters rushed to the bedroom and stopped abruptly in the doorway.

‘Well don’t stand there gawping,’ roared Jasper. ‘Untie me!’

‘Yes, m’lord, at once, but, what, who—?’

‘I should think that was obvious,’ growled Jasper, curbing his impatience as Peters struggled with the knots in the silken rope. ‘Thank God the maid did not find me like this.’

‘Knowing the nature of your engagement last night, I informed the staff that you were not to be disturbed,’ replied Peters calmly.

‘The devil you did. What time is it?’

‘Nearing seven, m’lord.’

‘Good. Then we are not too late.’ At last he was free and Jasper sat up, rubbing his wrists. ‘I want you to send a message to the stables. Have Morton come here. Now.’

‘My lord?’

‘I want him to go to Royal Crescent as soon as maybe.’

‘Sir, if I may be so bold, if the lady is reluctant...’ Under his master’s frowning gaze the valet shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other, finally saying in a rush, ‘It’s not like you, sir, to pursue a woman if she ain’t willing.’

Jasper shook his head.

‘Willing be damned. That has nothing to do with it. Miss Prentess said she was going out this morning. I want to know where she is bound. I’ll find out what her secret is if I have to tear Bath apart!’

* * *

By nine o’clock the viscount was washed and dressed in his green riding coat and buckskins. His heavy caped driving coat was thrown over a chair and his hat and gloves rested on the table in readiness. He strode impatiently up and down the sitting room, stopping occasionally to look out of the window, where large feathery flakes of snow could be seen floating down. At last he heard a hasty footstep approaching. Morton entered upon the knock.

‘Well?’ Jasper barked out the word.

‘I saw the carriage setting off, my lord, and followed it, as you ordered. It went as far as a house just this side of Priston. On the Wells Road.’

‘And you can find it again?’ demanded Jasper, shrugging himself into his driving coat.

‘Aye, my lord. The curricle is at the door now, but the weather’s turning bad. The snow is beginning to settle.’

‘Then the sooner we get started the better.’

* * *