Behind the Rake's Wicked Wager(27)

It was at that point Susannah realised that in all the confusion she had made no provision for herself, or the viscount. With so much of the house uninhabitable due to the leaking roof and the unsafe chimney stack, it would not be easy to find two free bedchambers. She decided she would think about that later. For now the lure of a warm fire was much more seductive.

* * *

After the cavernous kitchen the parlour was snug and welcoming. The viscount used a taper to light a single branched candlestick while Susannah went to the window.

‘The snow is still falling,’ she said. ‘I do not think I can ask Lucas to make another attempt to reach Priston until the morning.’

The viscount was bending over the fire, stirring the coals into a blaze.

‘I agree. As soon as it is light we can send them out again.’

‘We? I should have thought you would be anxious to return to Bath, my lord.’

‘Not until I know all is well here.’

‘That is not necessary...’

She trailed off as he regarded her, one dark brow raised.

‘You cannot be nurse, housekeeper and cook, Miss Prentess, and from what I have seen of the other inhabitants of this property they are all incapable of helping you, for one reason or another.’

‘It grieves me, but I have to agree with you.’ She sank down on to a chair, trying not to sound too disheartened. ‘Both Lizzie and Jane have young babies to look after, and Violet is quite unused to nursing or domestic work of any kind.’

‘And your scullery maid, willing as she is, can only work under instruction.’ The viscount pulled the spindle-legged sofa closer to the fire and sat down. ‘Tomorrow we will send Morton and your footman to Priston with instructions to fetch the midwife and try if they can to find a good woman who is prepared to live here and run the house until your own housekeeper returns.’ He held up his hand as she opened her mouth to speak. ‘Please do not argue. If that fails, as soon as the road is clear, Morton shall drive into Bath and find a suitable female through the registry office.’

‘You seem to have thought of everything, my lord.’

‘I know very well that you will not leave here until you know your guests are provided for.’

‘True.’

‘Then if we have settled that point, perhaps it is time we retired.’

‘Ah. That might be a slight problem.’ Susannah stared at her hands clasped in her lap. ‘I did not think to have Bessie prepare rooms for us. I imagine Mrs Gifford’s room will be usable, but the other three bedrooms in this part of the house are already occupied by the young ladies. If I had thought of it earlier I would have had a truckle bed made up in Violet’s room for myself—’

‘Out of the question. I shall sleep here on the sofa.’

She sighed with relief.

‘That is very good of you. I will go and find you some blankets.’

‘Not necessary,’ he said. ‘The fire and my driving coat will suffice to keep me warm.’

With a chuckle she rose and went to the door.

‘Oh, no, I must show some respect for your position, Lord Markham.’

The corners of his mouth lifted.

‘Why change now, Miss Prentess? So far in our acquaintance you have shown no regard for my position at all!’

With a laugh gurgling in her throat she whisked herself out of the room, returning a few minutes later with blankets and a pillow.

‘Brrr, it is cold once you step outside this room,’ she said, putting the bedding down on a chair. ‘I looked in on the others while I was upstairs; everyone is sleeping peacefully, even the new mother and baby.’ Jasper was kneeling by the hearth, stirring the contents of a large pewter jug. ‘Cooking again, my lord?’

‘Mulled cider,’ he said. ‘Watch.’

He pulled the poker out of the fire and carefully lowered the red-hot tip into the jug where it sizzled and hissed, sending a spicy aroma into the air. Susannah breathed it in, appreciating the scent of apples and spices. He filled two rummers with the fragrant, steaming liquid and held one out to her.

‘Perhaps you would join me?’

Susannah knew she should retire, but she had peeped into Mrs Gifford’s bedchamber. It was cold and unwelcoming, with no cheerful fire burning. She was loath to return to it, so she accepted the glass and sat down beside him on the sofa. They were enveloped in the warm glow from the fire and Susannah found the dancing flames strangely soothing

‘Why are you doing this?’ she asked him suddenly.

‘I told you, my eccentric uncle...’

‘No, I mean, why did you stay here today, why are you showing such kindness to me? After last night...’

He waved one hand, the heavy gold signet ring glinting as it caught the firelight.

‘Last night I thought you were leading Gerald astray. I did not know he was a party to all this. Silly cawker, why did he not tell me?’

‘Pray do not blame Gerald, I made him swear to tell no one.’

He said quietly, ‘That was almost your undoing.’

She felt the colour stealing into her cheeks, and it had little to do with the cider. She thought it best to keep silent and after a moment he continued.

‘This place must be very important to you, to risk coming out on such a day.’

‘It is.’

‘More than just charitable goodwill, I think. I noticed the new sign as we came in. Have you changed the house name? Was that your idea, or Mrs Logan’s?’

The cider was dispelling the chill inside, just as the fire was warming her skin. She felt very mellow, and comfortable enough for confidences.

‘Mine.’

‘Will you not tell me?’ His voice was gentle. ‘Who was Florence?’

‘She was my sister.’

Jasper caught his breath. At last she was prepared to tell him the truth.

‘Was?’

He waited while she sipped at her drink. She was staring into the fire, a faraway look in her eyes.

‘She died five years ago.’

‘I am very sorry.’ Instinctively he reached out and covered her hand. She did not draw it away. ‘Will you tell me about it?’

She sat up a little straighter but she kept her eyes on the fire, as if reading her words in the flames.

‘When my father died in Gibraltar we—my mother, sister and I—went to live with his sister in London. My aunt was a strict Evangelical and when my mother died of the fever a year later we were left to her care. Our family was not rich, but respectable enough, and very soon after my mother’s death my sister Florence was courted by a young man who promised to marry her.

‘He was very dashing and handsome, a very fashionable beau and Florence believed his promises enough to...’ He felt the little hand tremble in his. ‘He disappeared, leaving her pregnant. When my aunt learned that Florence was with child she threw her out of the house. I was forbidden ever to see her again. I smuggled money and food to Florence, who managed to find lodgings nearby. My aunt discovered what was happening and she stopped my pin-money and kept me locked in my room. I think she must also have spoken to the landlady, too, because Florence left her lodgings and I heard nothing more of her.

‘After six months my aunt thought it would be safe for me to go out alone again, and at the market one day a woman approached and told me Florence had died in childbirth a few weeks earlier. This woman was a milliner, earning appallingly little and living in the same house as Florence, close to Drury Lane. She said her landlady had a kind heart and had taken my sister in when she found her on the street. Florence would not say how she had got there, or what she had gone through, but she was very near her time so they gave her a bed and did what they could, although there was no money to pay for a midwife.

‘I went to the house where Florence died, I had to see it for myself. It was very squalid, but the landlady was a kindly soul, and it was a comfort to know Florence had not been quite alone at the end. The landlady told me there were hundreds of women like my sister, gently bred girls who were pursued and courted by fashionable men who took their virtue and then abandoned them. It is the way of the world. Neither she nor the milliner would take any money for their trouble, but they said Florence had begged them to get a message to me, to let me know what had become of her.’ Her mouth twisted and she added bitterly, ‘By that kindness they showed more mercy to my sister than her family had ever done.’

She pulled her hand free and wiped a tear from her cheek.

‘The letter from my Uncle Middlemass came soon after. If only he had come back to England a year earlier! As it is I left my aunt’s house very willingly. It was too late to help Florence, but I vowed then that I would do something to atone for her death. That is why I set up Florence House, and using the money from those arrogant rich men goes some way towards making them pay for their cruelty.’

‘Cruelty is a very strong word.’