Behind the Rake's Wicked Wager(4)

‘But, my dear Miss Prentess, the night is yet young.’

‘It is indeed, but I have other guests to attend, Major, and cannot let you monopolise me.’ She softened her words with a smile and went off to join her aunt, whom she found bubbling with excitement.

‘Susannah, I am so glad you are come, I was determined to interrupt your game if you had not finished when you did.’

‘My dear ma’am, what has occurred to put you into a spin?’

‘Mr Barnabus has arrived—’

‘Is that all? How did he look? I hope he is not too downhearted—’

‘No, that is, I did not notice.’ Aunt Maude flapped her hands in excitement. ‘Did you see the stranger he brought with him?’

‘No, I was paying picquet with the major and had my back to the door.’ Susannah looked around. ‘Has Mr Barnabus brought another gentleman, then? That is good of him, and shows he has not taken umbrage at my refusal.’

‘No, not a gentleman, Susannah. A viscount. There, I knew that would make you stare.’

‘It does indeed. We have had nothing more prestigious than a baron here before, although I suppose General Sanstead is pretty high...’

Mrs Wilby tapped her niece’s arm with her closed fan.

‘Pray be serious, Susannah, his presence here adds distinction! You must let me make you known to him at once.’

‘By all means, Aunt. Lead on.’

‘No need, here he comes now,’ Mrs Wilby responded in a shrill whisper, and Susannah looked around to see two gentlemen approaching. The first, a stocky young man with an open, boyish countenance beneath a thatch of fair hair, was Gerald Barnabus, and after a brief smile of welcome she turned her attention to his companion. The contrast with Mr Barnabus was striking. Gerald looked neat—even smart—in his evening dress, but the viscount’s black coat bore all the hallmarks of a London tailor. It fitted perfectly across his shoulders and followed the tapering line of the body to his waist. Satin knee-breeches stretched over muscled thighs that hinted at the athlete, while the startling white of his quilted waistcoat and impeccable linen of his shirt and neckcloth proclaimed a level of sartorial elegance not often seen in Bath.

The man himself was tall and lean, with hair as dark as midnight. The golden, flickering candlelight accentuated the strong lines of his handsome face. When she met his eyes a little tremor ran down her spine. She was used to seeing admiration in a man’s look, but the viscount’s gaze was coolly appraising.

‘Ah, there you are, Miss Prentess,’ Gerald greeted her cheerfully. ‘I have brought a friend with me; I made sure you would not object to it. Well, I say friend, but he is some sort of cousin, actually...’

‘Come, Gerald, you are taking far too long about this.’

The viscount’s voice was low and pleasant, with just a hint of laughter. He turned to Susannah, the cool look in his eyes replaced by a glinting smile.

‘I am Markham.’ He gave a little bow. ‘How do you do?’

‘I am very well, my lord, thank you. And of course there can be no objection to your coming here with Mr Barnabus.’

‘Aye, I knew you would be pleased,’ said Gerald, grinning.

Susannah barely heard Gerald’s words for the viscount had reached for her hand and lifted it to his lips.

‘Are you making a long stay in Bath, my lord?’ She struggled to ignore the fluttering inside, like the soft beating of birds’ wings against her ribcage. The pad of his thumb had rubbed gently over her knuckles before he gave up her hand and her skin still tingled with the memory.

‘I am on my way to town. I merely stopped off to look in on my cousin.’

‘Aye, which is why I persuaded him to take pot luck here with me tonight,’ added Gerald.

‘And we are delighted to have you join us.’ Mrs Wilby spread her fan and looked about her while Susannah stood mute at her side, trying to make sense of her reaction to this stranger. ‘What would you care to play, my lord? There is macao, or loo, or euchre...or if you care to wait a little I am sure we can set you up with a rubber of whist—’

‘You are too kind, ma’am, but if you have no objection I shall walk about a little.’ He bestowed such a charming smile upon Aunt Maude that Susannah was not at all surprised to see her simpering like a schoolroom miss. ‘I like to gauge the opposition before I commit myself to the game.’

‘You will find no deep play here, my lord,’ Susannah responded. ‘And no hardened gamesters.’

‘No?’ His brows lifted. ‘Not even yourself, Miss Prentess?’

Again that flutter down her spine. She was close enough to see his eyes now. Blue-grey, and hard as slate.

She shook her head. ‘I am no gamester, my lord.’

‘But she is good,’ said Gerald. ‘I’d wager she could match you, Cousin.’

‘Indeed? Perhaps we should put it to the test.’

His voice was silky, but she heard the note of contempt in his tone. To her dismay she felt the blush rising to her cheeks. She could do nothing to hide it, so she put up her chin and replied to Gerald with a smile.

‘You are too kind, Mr Barnabus. I have no wish to pit myself against one who is no doubt a master.’

She excused herself and walked away. As she passed the table where Mrs Logan was presiding at a noisy game of vingt-et-un, Kate stretched out her hand to detain her.

‘You seem to have netted a big fish there, Susannah,’ she murmured. ‘Who is he?’

‘Viscount Markham, Gerald’s cousin.’

‘Indeed? A very big fish then.’ Kate’s eyes flickered over the viscount, then came back to her friend. ‘He does not please you?’

‘He seems inclined to sneer at our little party.’ Susannah shrugged. ‘Let my aunt deal with him. If we are not to his taste I hope he will not stay long.’

A shout recalled Kate’s attention to the game and Susannah moved on. She sat down with a large group who were playing loo and tried to give her attention to the cards, but all the time she was aware of the viscount’s tall figure wandering around the room. Then, suddenly, she could not see him and wondered if he had been persuaded to sit down at one of the other tables, or if he had taken his leave. The unease she had felt in his presence made her hope it was the latter.

* * *

As the evening wore on and the crowd in the room thinned, Susannah noticed the familiar, subtle change in the card party. The chatter and laughter died away as those who were left concentrated on their game. Two young gentlemen challenged her to take them on at ombre and she was busily engaged with them until the supper gong sounded at midnight.

‘Sacardo again, Miss Prentess,’ laughed one of the young men, throwing down his cards in mock disgust. ‘You are unbeatable tonight.’

‘Aye, she has won almost every trick,’ declared the other, watching as Susannah swept the small pile of coins from the table into her reticule. ‘I hope you will allow Warwick and me the chance to take our revenge later?’

‘More to the point, Farthing, I hope Miss Prentess will allow me to escort her down to supper,’ added Mr Warwick, looking hopefully across at Susannah.

‘Nay, as to that, surely the honour should fall to me?’ said Mr Farthing. ‘I at least won codille, sir, so it can be said I bested you!’

Susannah threw up her hands, laughing.

‘Gentlemen, pray, do not fight over such a trifle.’

‘Especially when the trick is already won,’ said a deep, amused voice. ‘I have come to escort you down to supper, Miss Prentess.’

Susannah looked round to find Lord Markham standing behind her, his hand on the back of her chair.

‘Indeed, my lord?’ His self-assurance rattled her. ‘I rather think these gentlemen might oppose you.’

A glance back showed Susannah that the two young men might have been prepared to fight each other for the pleasure of taking her to supper, but they were far too in awe of a viscount to raise an objection. She was disappointed when they scrambled to their feet, uttering disjointed phrases.

‘L-Lord Markham! N-no, no objections at all, my lord.’

‘Only too happy...’

‘There, you see? No opposition at all.’ The humour glinting in Lord Markham’s eyes did nothing to appease Susannah, but it would not do to show her displeasure, so with a smile of acquiescence she took his hand and allowed him to lead her off. As they moved through the room she looked around her.

‘Ah, my aunt is setting up another game of loo. Perhaps she would like me to help her—’

‘No, it was she who suggested I should take you downstairs.’ When Susannah hesitated he added, ‘You can see, Miss Prentess, that everyone is perfectly content. You may take a little time now to enjoy yourself. These parties are designed to be enjoyed. After all, it is not as if you are running a gaming hell here.’