Behind the Rake's Wicked Wager(34)

‘I should be glad of it,’ he replied earnestly. ‘While I understand the necessity I have always thought—’ He broke off, flushing. ‘But never mind that. The first set is forming. Shall we join them?’

Susannah stood up for the first two dances with Gerald, and after that there was no lack of partners. The music lifted her spirits. She no longer needed to worry about Florence House, she could relax and enjoy herself. As she was waiting for another dance to begin she saw Jasper at the side of the room. He looked very handsome in his dark coat, his black hair gleaming in the candlelight. Perhaps she was being unfair to him. Mayhap he had not intended to tell anyone about Florence House. Surely she could forgive such a slip?

* * *

By the end of the dance she had made up her mind she would speak to him. She gracefully excused herself and moved off the dance floor. The crowd was so thick it was impossible to see very far and Jasper’s dark head was not visible in any direction. On one of the higher tiers of benches she could see her aunt, part of a large crowd gathered around Lady Gisburne. Susannah had no desire to join that throng and she decided she would sit out on the lower benches until the dancing stopped and tea was served, then she would join her aunt in the tea room. Perhaps she would find Jasper there. She began to make her way through the crowd. Ahead of her she could see Mrs Bulstrode and Mrs Farthing at the centre of a little group of ladies. Susannah had no wish to push past them and endure their insincere greetings so she stepped to one side, where she was shielded from their view by two large gentlemen deep in conversation. However, she was close enough to hear Mrs Farthing’s sneering tones.

‘I see Miss Prentess is wearing yet another new gown. I wonder she can afford so many, with her little “interest” to keep up.’

Her cronies laughed. Susannah’s lip curled slightly and she was about to move away when she heard Mrs Bulstrode give an angry titter.

‘My dear, she can afford anything she wants now she has Markham in her pocket. I wager we will be calling her “Viscountess” before the end of the summer.’

Susannah froze. She folded her arms across her breast, hugging herself. Markham in her pocket? Nothing was further from the truth and yet...perhaps that is how it looked, to those who had been watching them at the last ball. Jasper had been very attentive. The blood that had earlier drained from her body now returned in an angry rush. How dare they! How dare they couple her name with anyone, least of all the viscount?

She remembered their last meeting. His insouciance, his confident assertion that he would come about. Perhaps Jasper himself had started these rumours, perhaps he was misguided enough to think that the hint of such a liaison would protect her from the disapproval of Bath society.

Fustian, she told herself savagely. Only a nodcock would believe it would do anything other than make me look foolish!

She looked about her. She must find Jasper and have it out with him. Now.

* * *

Another perambulation of the ballroom convinced her that the viscount was not present and she made her way to the Octagon. That, too, was crowded, but still no sign of him. Her last hope was the tea room. That was the least crowded of all, for the dancing was still going on and the waiters had not yet completed setting out the refreshments. One or two couples stood about the room and Susannah was about to give up and return to the ballroom when a movement on the balcony at the far end of the room caught her eye. Someone was on the upper level, and even in the shadows she recognised the familiar form of Lord Markham.

Susannah hurried up the stairs to the landing. The light from the three grand chandeliers did not reach this far and the soaring pillars threw further bands of shadow across the narrow gallery.

‘Lord Markham. I have been looking for you.’

He turned at her voice and she saw the flash of white teeth as he smiled at her.

‘Really? I came up here to escape the crowds. I am honoured that you have sought me out.’

‘You should not be. I have come to pick a crow with you!’ She began to pace up and down, too angry to keep still. ‘Do you know that everyone is saying we are betrothed?’

‘Are they?’

‘Yes, they are,’ she said furiously. ‘Perhaps you can tell me how that rumour came about?’

‘Your spending the whole evening with me at the Fancy Ball, perhaps?’

‘That was to protect Florence House. You should have scotched this rumour.’

He spread his hands.

‘I beg your pardon, but I was not aware of it.’

‘Well you are aware of it now, and I demand you put a stop to it.’

He caught her hand as she went to pass him.

‘Pray do not put yourself into a passion over such a little matter, Miss Prentess.’

‘It is not a little matter,’ she flashed at him, tearing her hand free. ‘It is—it is a slur on my good name!’

His black brows went up.

‘That you should be considered a fit wife for a viscount? I see no slur there.’

‘This is all your fault,’ she railed at him, too furious for reason. ‘First you betray a confidence and then—’

With a growl of exasperation he caught her arms and turned her towards him, giving her a little shake.

‘How many more times do I have to tell you I did not give away your secret? And no more have I set it about that we are to be married. Thunder an’ turf, what would I want to do such a thing for?’ His hands slid up to her shoulders, she could feel their heat through the thin silk of the tiny puff sleeves.

‘I don’t know—to make mischief, perhaps!’

His thumbs moved gently over her collar bones, caressing the bare skin. It was strangely arresting. Her mind might still be angry with him, but her limbs were locked, she was unable to move away.

‘I am not in the habit of making mischief of that sort.’

His low voice resonated through her body. A tingle ran down the length of her spine. Gently he pulled her back against the wall, where the shadows were deepest. She should protest, push him away, run back to the safety of the crowded ballroom.

She did none of these things. His hands continued to hold her shoulders. He was standing so close now that she could smell the spicy tang of cologne on his skin. Her breasts seemed to swell and pull her forwards, responding to the attraction of his lean, muscular body.

He put the fingers of one hand beneath her chin and forced her to look up at him. His face was in shadow, but she could sense his eyes on her face, feel them burning into her very soul, laying it bare. It was as much as she could do not to whimper in fear.

‘S-stop this,’ she stammered. ‘Let me go.’

In response he lowered his head and touched her lips with his own. She found herself reaching up, standing on tiptoe to prolong the contact.

‘You may leave whenever you wish.’

The words whispered over her skin, their meaning lost. She closed her eyes, shivering with delight as his kisses strayed to her neck. Her head went back and she clutched at his jacket, a wave of dizziness washing over her. He planted kisses on her throat and along the length of her jaw before returning his attention to her mouth and then she was drowning in his kiss, opening her lips, inviting him to plunder her mouth, her own tongue tentatively flickering to meet his.

He gave a groan as his arms tightened around her. She was crushed against his body—it was every bit as hard and demanding as she remembered. She wanted to tear at his clothes but instead drove her hands into his hair, revelling in the silky strength of those black locks between her fingers. Her body was on fire, her thighs aching for his touch and when he raised his head she clung to him, trembling. Only his encircling arms prevented her from collapsing in a heap at his feet.

‘Tell me you did not plan this,’ he murmured into her hair.

‘Plan what?’

He laughed softly.

‘You bewitch me.’

Susannah took a few deep breaths and fought to regain control of her unruly body. Not just her body, her mind, too. Jasper spoke of being bewitched. Surely something of that kind had happened to her? This was not normal, rational behaviour.

Steeling herself, she pushed him away. She felt a little unsteady, but her legs did not crumple beneath her.

‘Pray to not think I came up here to, to...’

‘No, I acquit you of that. As you must acquit me of spreading rumours about our impending marriage. But you know, perhaps it is not such an impossible idea.’

‘I beg your pardon?’

‘Perhaps we should marry,’ he said.

‘P-pray do not tease me, my lord.’

‘No, I am in earnest. After forcing you to dine alone with me, then our being together at Florence House, it occurs to me that I should offer you the protection of my name.’ His wicked smile flashed. ‘Especially if we have this effect upon each other.’

Another tremor ran through her, but this time of fear.

‘No. Never.’ She crossed her arms, thoroughly alarmed. ‘Th-this is not natural. It is to be avoided. It leads to, to debauchery and decadence.’