chapter Seven
Madness.
Susannah wanted to shake her head, to tell him she would not countenance such a wager, but her eyes were fixed upon the diamond. It winked at her. It was worth a king’s ransom. It would more than pay for the repairs to Florence House. She could recover the jewels she had sold today and there might even be sufficient to cover the running costs of the house until she came into her inheritance. She was silent as they made their way to the top of the stairs and when they reached the landing she allowed him to draw her to one side.
‘Well, madam, will you accept?’
She ran her tongue over her lips.
‘Dinner, you say?’
‘Yes.’
‘Alone?’
‘Of course.’
It was not to be thought of. To have dinner with him, unescorted, would ruin her reputation.
Only if it was discovered.
As if reading her thoughts he continued, ‘You need have no fear. The hotel is very quiet at present and you may come veiled. My man will serve us and he is very...discreet.’
‘It seems you have thought of everything, my lord.’
‘I like to think so.’
‘If I win you will give me the diamond.’
‘I will.’
‘And if I lose, I will have dinner with you at your hotel. Nothing more.’
‘Nothing more.’
‘We will play the best of three games,’ she declared.
‘If that will suit you.’ The viscount bowed.
‘Perfectly.’ Having made her decision, she led the way into the drawing room and headed for the empty table in the corner, collecting several new packs of playing cards on her way.
* * *
Susannah unwrapped the first pack, thankful that she had taken only a small glass of wine with her supper. She drew the low card and shuffled, holding out the cards for the viscount to cut. She could do this. It was merely a case of steady nerves and keeping a mental note of all the discards. She had done it hundreds of times before. As dealer she knew she must be on the defensive in the first game, but she had a strong hand and after making her discards she was slightly ahead on points when play started. Her optimism was dented when the viscount won the final trick.
‘You were unlucky.’ He reached for a new pack. ‘But you showed some skill. You may do better this time.’
‘I shall indeed.’
She studied her hand and chose her discards carefully. By the time play started she felt sure she had the stronger hand. Winning the first trick boosted her confidence and she played with conviction, narrowly winning the second game. The third, however, started badly and ended worse. The viscount won every trick.
‘Capotted,’ she declared, carefully putting down her cards. She sank her teeth into her bottom lip. She must admit defeat gracefully. ‘Congratulations, my lord. You have won.’
‘You play very well, Miss Prentess. I think you deserve one last chance.’ He drew the diamond pin from his neck cloth and placed it on the table between them. ‘What say you we play one more game, winner takes all?’
She laughed. It sounded a trifle reckless, even to her own ears.
‘What do I have to lose?’
She reached out to take the pin between her thumb and finger. The viscount’s hand closed over hers. A sudden flicker of candlelight made his eyes gleam with a devilish glow.
‘There is one minor alteration to the terms of our wager.’ His voice was smooth, as cold and deadly as steel. ‘If I win this game you come to the hotel for dinner and you stay. All night.’
With a gasp she drew back. Unmoved, he continued.
‘You have my word I will not seduce you. I will not even touch you without your permission. But you will stay in my rooms until morning.’
‘What is the point of your assurances?’ she challenged him. ‘I shall be ruined whether you touch me or no.’
‘Only if word of it gets out. And I shall tell no one.’
She sat up very straight, staring at him.
‘Why are you doing this? Why force me to dine with you and stay in your rooms if you do not want to...to seduce me?’
His smile sent a shiver running down her back.
‘Oh I want to seduce you, madam, but I have never yet forced any woman to accept my advances. So what do you say to the wager, Miss Susannah Prentess? A diamond worth thousands against a night with me?’
Susannah stared down at the glittering gem. She had beaten him once, and only lost the third game by ill luck. She had his measure now. Surely it was worth the risk. She realised that she was more of a gambler than she had ever known.
Slowly and deliberately she unwrapped a new pack.
* * *
‘My trick, I believe, Miss Prentess. And my game.’
Susannah put down her cards. It had not even been close. The viscount had started with the strongest hand, and although she had recovered a couple of tricks the outcome had never been in doubt. She swallowed, suddenly feeling very numb. When she managed to speak, her voice seemed to belong to some other creature, someone calm and not at all shaken by the thought of what she had agreed.
‘What time do you want me to join you on Thursday?’
‘Shall we say seven o’clock? My man will meet you at the entrance, you will not need to announce yourself at the desk.’
She raised her chin.
‘What if I do not come? What if I refuse to honour the wager?’
His eyes rested upon her. There was no hint of blue in them now. They were slate grey, dark and implacable.
‘You will come. It is not in your nature to go back on your word.’
The little flicker of defiance died.
‘You are right.’ She put her hands on the table to steady herself as she rose to her feet. ‘If you will excuse me, I have neglected my other guests long enough.’
‘Of course.’ He stood, his bow the perfect mix of deference and respect. ‘Until Thursday, Miss Prentess.’
* * *
When she had gone Jasper resumed his seat. He took up the diamond pin and carefully secured it amongst the folds of his neckcloth. He had never before pursued a woman who was so reluctant to succumb to his advances. For an instant his conscience pricked him. He could be ruining an innocent woman.
No. He was saving his innocent cousin. Susannah
Prentess must never marry Gerald. How that came about was up to her—if she refused to give him up, then Jasper would make sure Gerald knew about her visit to York House. His cousin might be naïve, but he would not countenance marriage to a woman who had been unfaithful to him.
* * *
‘Your visitor, my lord.’
Peters ushered the veiled figure into the small parlour that doubled as a dining room and went out again, shutting the door behind him.
‘Welcome, ma’am.’
Jasper went towards her. She stood unmoving, and at last he reached out and lifted the veil from her face. She allowed him to remove her cloak and bonnet. He noted the pleated muslin around her shoulders, ending in a fashionable neck ruff. Chosen deliberately, he suspected, to hide her charms. Her gown was a deep sea-green silk, with a matching silk cord tied in a bow beneath her breasts. The ends of the cord hung down almost to the hem and were decorated with silk tassels that bobbed and shimmered whenever she moved, drawing the eye towards the matching shoes and the occasional glimpse of a dainty ankle. Her hair was caught up in a knot on her head, from which a few golden curls dangled enticingly over her ears and glinted in the candlelight. She had never looked more beautiful, or more frightened.
He took her hand.
‘You are ice-cold,’ he remarked, drawing her down on to a sofa before the fire.
‘I took a chair. I did not want any of my people to know my destination.’
‘What of Mrs Wilby?’
‘My aunt has gone to the Fancy Ball at the Upper Rooms with Mrs Logan. I told them I was...unwell.’
Again he was obliged to crush a prickle of conscience. He was doing this for Gerald. There need be no adverse consequences of this evening, as long as the lady agreed to his terms.
‘There is no need for anyone to know you are here, except my man, Peters, and I can vouch for his discretion.’ He smiled, hoping to dispel some of the anxiety in her face. ‘I have sent him off for the night. There will be no one to disturb us.’ He pointed to the table on the far side of the room. ‘You see your dinner; everything is there so we may serve ourselves, when you are ready.’
‘I am ready now. Let us get on.’ She tugged off her gloves. ‘I have urgent business that takes me out of Bath early tomorrow morning.’
She stalked to the table. Her whole demeanour indicated that she wanted to get this over with as quickly as possible. She was not intent upon flattering him, Jasper thought ruefully, as he poured wine into two glasses.
‘Miss Prentess, we have a long evening ahead of us. It would pass much easier if we observe the basic civilities.’ He handed her a glass. ‘Will you cry quits with me, at least until we have finished our meal?’
There was a stormy look in her eyes, but after a brief hesitation she gave a little nod.
‘By all means, my lord.’
‘Good.’ He held out her chair, his eyes drawn to the smooth curve of her neck between the frilled edge of the ruff and her upswept hair. He resisted the temptation to bend and plant a gentle kiss there—she was not to be won by such a liberty.
Susannah remained upright on her chair, her nerves at full stretch. She did not understand the man. The air was thick with tension, every word, every gesture, seemed loaded with meaning. When she had taken her seat all she could think of was his hands on the chair behind her, just inches from her shoulders. It made her skin tingle. He had not touched her, and when he took his own seat he looked cool and at his ease. From the soup to the syllabub he served her with skill and courtesy, carving for her the most delicate slices from the roast duck, helping her to a portion of the sole in red wine, a sliver of the potato pudding. There was never a hint that she was anything more than an honoured guest, but all the time she was aware of him sitting across the table from her. She kept her feet tucked beneath her chair lest they should accidentally brush his.
She watched his hands as he served her, remembering how he had held out the syllabub when he had taken her down to supper at Royal Crescent, his long fingers holding the spoon to her lips, the wonderfully decadent sweetness of the soft mixture on her tongue. Of course she would not allow him such outrageous freedom again, but there was no denying that the syllabub set before her this evening was dull and lifeless in comparison.
Her lips were dry, but she would not run her tongue across them. That would show weakness and might rouse in him the desire she suspected was just below the surface. Yet he insisted he did not wish to seduce her, that he would do nothing without her permission. She sipped thoughtfully at her wine. Was this tension, the awareness, only within her? A surreptitious glance across the table showed that he was watching her, a faint smile on his handsome face.
And he was handsome. Sinfully so. She thought back to when they had danced together, remembering the covetous looks of the other ladies. How they would envy her, here alone with him. It must be the dream, the fantasy, of so many females. Yet Susannah knew it should remain as nothing more than a fantasy—the reality of what could lead from such an encounter as this was too horrendous, too devastating to consider. She must be on her guard against the feelings he aroused in her. How many times had she heard a poor, misguided girl say, ‘I could not help myself’?
* * *
‘If you have eaten your fill, ma’am, shall we retire from the table? It would be more comfortable to sit before the fire.’
The viscount’s words dragged her back from her reverie. He came around the table and held out his hand to her. Not by the flicker of an eyelid would she admit to the flash of awareness that shot through her when she placed her hand in his. She refused to lean upon him, even though her knees threatened to give way beneath her and her whole body was tingling and alive in a way that she had never known before. Her breasts were hard, pushing against the thin silk of her bodice and there was an ache of desire low down in her belly. She felt as if she was caught in some giant web. It wrapped around her, easing her closer towards her escort. When they reached the sofa it took all her effort to push against that invisible web and place herself at the very end, as far from that disturbing presence as it was possible to be.
The viscount did not appear to notice. Susannah held her breath, ready to leap up should he seat himself too close, or press himself up against her, but instead he stood a little to one side, looking down at her.
It was unbearable. If he had pounced, leered or directed lewd innuendo towards her she would have known how to react, but there was nothing lover-like or menacing in his behaviour. They might have been the best of friends, enjoying a meal together. Save that they were not friends. They were strangers, and they were totally alone in his suite of rooms in the most expensive hotel in Bath. Taking her courage in her hands, Susannah forced herself to look up and ask him a direct question.
‘Why are you doing this?’
He hesitated a heart’s beat before replying.
‘I want to make sure you do not marry my cousin.’
She blinked at him. Was that all? Relief brought the first real smile of the evening to her face.
‘Then you have gone to a great deal of trouble for nothing, my lord. I have already told you I do not mean to marry him, and I am pretty sure Gerald has told you the same.’
‘I saw you,’ he said. ‘Coming out of the jewellers on Milsom Street.’
She raised her brows.
‘And that convinced you we are to be married? You are very quick to jump to conclusions.’
‘Then tell me what you were doing there.’
‘I will not.’
‘Then tell me where you go almost every morning, when you drive out of Bath in your carriage—and pray do not try to fob me off, I have seen you.’
‘Very well, I will say nothing then.’
‘You are an extremely obstinate woman, Miss Prentess.’
‘And you are a fool,’ she retorted. ‘I told you at the outset I had no designs upon your cousin. Gerald has come to terms with that, so why cannot you?’
‘You make use of him unmercifully.’
‘He is happy to be of assistance to me.’
‘You sent him off on an errand—’
‘I did.’
‘Where did he go?’
‘That is none of your business.’ She waved her hand. ‘I doubt you would approve, if you knew.’
‘But it might have stopped me from going to these extraordinary measures to prevent your liaison.’
His retort merely made her shake her head at him, smiling.
‘You have led yourself a merry dance, have you not, my lord?’
He sat down beside her.
‘It seems I have been well and truly bamboozled.’
He looked at her and his lips twitched. The corners of his mouth turned up. Susannah stifled a giggle, he tried not to chuckle, but the next moment both of them were laughing so hard they could not sit upright, but leaned against each other, helpless with mirth. He put his arm around her to support them and, still giggling, she turned towards him.
The laughter died away, but Susannah found she was still smiling, still looking into those dark, dark eyes that held nothing now but warmth and good humour. Without thinking she put up her hand to cup his cheek.
‘How foolish you were to doubt me,’ she whispered.
He turned his head to press a kiss into the palm of her hand and as he did so his arms slid around her. It seemed the most natural thing in the world to look up a little more, to invite his kiss and when his lips met hers it was as if the whole world relaxed with a sigh. She leaned into him, her lips parting under the soft pressure of his mouth. His tongue dipped into her, drawing on the ache that reached right through her body, down to her groin.
She wound her arms around him and kissed him back, tangling her tongue with his, pressing herself closer. Every inch of her skin was alive to the feel of his hands through the thin layers of her gown. When he stopped kissing her and slid one hand beneath her knees, lifting her effortlessly into his arms, she did not protest, but pressed her face against his neck, breathing in that faint, familiar scent she had come to associate with him and planting gentle kisses on the pulse beating beneath his skin.
He carried her through to the bedroom. A fire burned in the hearth, and candles flickered in the wall sconces, giving the room a warm, welcoming glow. He did not pause but made straight for the bed where he laid her on the covers. Her arms were still around his neck and she drew him to her, impatient to feel his mouth on hers again. He obliged, covering her mouth as he stretched out beside her, measuring her length with his body, arousing in her feelings she could not control.
She was almost swooning, transported to another world by the sensations he was creating in her. He had removed her ruff and was now kissing her throat, his hands unfastening the drawstring on her bodice so that he could caress her breasts. They were taut and hard, pressing against his questing fingers and when he began to circle one tender nub with his thumb she groaned aloud, her head going back as the pleasure of it surged through her whole body.
Susannah reached out for him. She did not know when he had cast off his jacket and waistcoat, but there was only the thin linen shirt between her hands and his flesh. She could feel the hard outline of his back, the contours of his shoulders, his spine. It was all so new, so exhilarating. She gasped as his mouth replaced the thumb at her breast and her body responded, softening, the very bones liquefying. His hand smoothed over her silken skirts, pushing them aside to stroke her thigh. She was drowning in the pleasure of him, opening, turning towards his questing fingers, inviting him to go further, to explore her fully.
Susannah moved sensuously against the covers. She had not known it could be so wondrous, this attraction between a man and a woman. That she could feel so alive, so at one with another person. Was it always like this? Was this how it had been for...
Memories and cold fear returned.
‘No.’ She was seized by panic and tried to push him off. ‘No, please. Please, don’t do this.’
Immediately he stopped and drew away. Instead of relief she felt merely chilled and bereft.
‘Susannah? What is it, my dear, what is wrong?’
She rolled away from him and scrabbled to sit up, hugging herself.
‘I never meant— I should never— I am so ashamed.’ She buried her face in her hands as hot tears burned her cheeks. Trembling, she waited for him to curse her roughly for her wanton behaviour, to swear, maybe even to lash out at her.
After a deathly silence broken only by her muffled sobs she felt his hand on her shoulder. A light touch. Soothing, not threatening.
‘I beg your pardon, Susannah. This is all my fault. I never intended... Oh, hell and damnation, what a coil!’
His gentleness made her cry even harder. He shifted until he was sitting beside her and gently pulled her against him.
‘I promised you I would do nothing without your consent, my dear. If I misunderstood—’
She shook her head, unable to speak, unable to tell him how much she had wanted, relished every touch, every caress.
‘I must go—’
He held her tighter.
‘No, not yet. It is not yet midnight, there are too many people abroad. Someone might recognise you.’
‘Then what shall I do?’
‘You must stay here until dawn and I will find you a chair.’
‘I cannot stay here, with you.’
‘To leave my chambers now would be to risk being seen. You would be ruined.’ He exhaled, a long, drawn-out sigh. ‘I think I have misjudged you. We must talk.’
‘No, not yet.’ She held her head in her hands. ‘I feel so tired.’
He pulled her unresisting on to the bed.
‘Then lie here and sleep.’ He added quickly, ‘You will be perfectly safe. I promise I shall not molest you again. The bed is wide enough for us both to lie on it without touching.’
Susannah turned away from him and curled herself into a ball. Molest her? He had not molested her. He had awoken her to the delights of her own body. He had seduced her and she had succumbed most willingly. Oh heavens, she was no different from those poor unfortunate girls at Florence House. They too had been seduced by fine words and soft caresses, before they had been abandoned. How could she have been so weak? No wonder young ladies required a chaperon to be with them constantly. She had not known how it could feel, had not realised how wayward her own body could be. She thought of the man lying beside her. There was no doubt he was kind and gentle, but it made him no less a seducer.
She felt the bed move as he slid off it, heard him pad across the room. A moment later there was the soft click as the key turned in the lock. Her worst fears were realised. She was his prisoner. Hot tears pressed against her eyes. It was clear now that his gentle assurances were worthless. He had not kissed her because he wanted to, because he was attracted to her. It was a cold plan devised to protect his cousin. The tears spilled over, burning her cheeks. What a fool she was.
* * *
Jasper came back to the bed and lay down again, keeping very still. He listened to the quiet snuffling beside him. Sympathy put his desire to flight. And he had desired her, so much so that he had forgotten his planned seduction, forgotten all about Gerald Barnabus. When he had taken Susannah in his arms he had thought only of possessing her fully, wholly, for himself. Her distress made him realise that somehow he had got it badly wrong. Whatever secrets she had they did not involve marriage to his cousin, he would stake his life on that now.
When she was calmer he would talk to her, assure her that if there was the faintest hint of scandal resulting from this evening then he would do the honourable thing and marry her. But that would come later. For now she needed to sleep, as did he. At least, having locked the door, there was no danger that they would be discovered in this compromising situation by some over-zealous chambermaid coming in early to light the fire.
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.