Sarah Mallory - Behind the Rake's Wicked Wager

Susannah was quick to reassure her.

‘No, no, of course not, I was teasing you. We merely invite our friends here for an evening of cards, and if they lose a few shillings—’

‘Or guineas!’

‘Or guineas,’ she conceded, her eyes twinkling, ‘then so much the better for us.’

Aunt Maude looked at her uncertainly, then clasped her hands and burst out, ‘But I cannot like it, my love. To be making money in such a way—’

‘We do not make very much, Aunt, and some of our guests go away the richer for the evening.’

‘Yes, but overall—oh, my dear, I cannot think that it is right, and I know our neighbours here in the Royal Crescent do not approve.’

‘Pho, a few valetudinarian spoil-sports. Our card parties are very select.’ She sank down on to a sofa. ‘I agree, Royal Crescent would not be my first choice of a place to live, but Uncle’s will was quite explicit, I cannot touch my fortune or sell this house until I am five and twenty. Another two years.’

‘You could let it out, and we could find something smaller …’

The wistful note was not lost on Susannah, but she shook her head, saying firmly, ‘No, this house suits my requirements very well. The location lends our parties a certain distinction.’ She added mischievously, ‘Besides, I am a great heiress, and Royal Crescent is perfectly in keeping with my status.’

Aunt Maude looked down, gazing intently at the nails of one white hand.

‘I thought, when you asked me to come and live with you, it was so that you could go about a little.’

‘But I do go about, Aunt. Why, what with the Pump Room and the theatre, the balls and assemblies, we go about a great deal.’

‘But I thought you wanted to find a husband.’

Susannah laughed at that.

‘No, no, that was never my intention. I am very happy with my single state, thank you.’

‘But at three-and-twenty you are in danger of becoming an old maid.’

‘Then that is what I shall do,’ she replied, amused. ‘Or mayhap I shall accept an offer from one of the charming young men who grace our card parties.’

‘If only you would,’ sighed Mrs Wilby.

‘Mr Barnabus proposed to me yesterday.’ She saw her aunt’s hopeful look and quickly shook her head. ‘I refused him, of course. I tried very hard not to let it come to a proposal, but he would not be gainsaid.’

‘Oh dear, was he very disappointed?’

‘Yes, but he will get over it.’

‘I hope to goodness he does not try to end it all, like poor Mr Edmonds.’

Susannah laughed.

‘I hope you do not think my refusing Jamie Edmonds had anything to do with his falling into the river.’

‘I heard he jumped from Bath Bridge …’

‘My dear Aunt, he was drinking in some low tavern near the quay, as young men are wont to do, and then tried to walk the parapet on the bridge, missed his footing and tumbled off on to a coal barge.’ Her lips twitched at the look of disappointment on her aunt’s face. ‘I know it to be true, Aunt, because Jamie told me himself, when I next saw him in Milsom Street.’

‘But everyone said—’

‘I know what everyone said , but that particular rumour was spread by one of Mr Edmonds’s friends, Mr Warwick. He was angry because I would not take an IOU from him last week and sent him home before supper.’

‘Ay, yes, I remember Mr Warwick.’ Mrs Wilby nodded. ‘It was quite clear that he was drinking too much and was in no fit state to be in a respectable establishment.’

‘And in no fit state to play at cards, which is more to the point,’ added Susannah. ‘But he did make me a very handsome apology later, so he is forgiven.’ She jumped up. ‘But enough of this. I am for the Pump Room, then back via Duffields, to find something to read. Will you come with me?’

‘Gladly. I hope we shall find old friends at the Pump Room to converse with.’

Susannah’s eyes twinkled wickedly.

‘And I hope we shall find new friends to invite to our next card party!’

The damp February weather made for a dirty journey north, but Jasper spent only one night on the road and arrived at Mrs Barnabus’s house at Hotwells shortly after mid-day. He was ushered in by a butler whose sombre mien led him to wonder if he had maligned his relative, and she was in fact at death’s door. However, when he was shown into the elegant drawing room, Mrs Barnabus appeared to be in her usual state of health. She came forwards to meet him, hands held out and shawls trailing from her thin shoulders.

‘Markham, my dear cousin, how good of you to call.’ Her voice was as frail as her person, but Jasper knew there was a will of iron inside the waif-like body. He took the hand held out to him and kissed it punctiliously. The fingers curled around his hand like claws. ‘So good of you to come out of your way, when you know I have no room to put you up here.’

‘Yes, wasn’t it?’ he replied cheerfully.

She sank on to the sofa, trying to pull him down with her, but he freed himself and drew up a chair.

‘You are on your way back to London, Markham?’

‘Yes. I hope to reach Corsham tonight. Well, Gloriana, what can I do for you?’

Her sigh was audible.

‘So like your dear father.’

‘Devil a bit, madam. He wouldn’t have put himself out to come here at all. He would have sent a servant to find out what it was you wanted.’

Gloriana looked a trifle discomposed at this but she recovered quickly and gave him a wan smile.

‘In looks, my dear boy, in looks. And how is your poor, scarred soldier-brother?’

The epithet grated on Jasper but he concealed it.

‘Dominic is prospering. And very happy with his growing family. Now, Gloriana, tell me why you have summoned me here.’

The widow wrung her hands and uttered dramatically, ‘It is Gerald.’

‘I thought as much. What has the boy done?’

This cool response drew a reproachful look from the widow.

‘So charming yet so implacable.’ She sighed. ‘No wonder you break so many hearts.’

‘Not intentionally, ma’am, I assure you.’ He took out his watch. ‘I am sorry to hurry you, Gloriana, but my curricle is waiting and I do not want to keep the horses standing too long in this cold weather. Tell me about Gerald.’

‘Your manners, Markham, leave a lot to be desired.’

‘But a moment ago you were telling me I was charming.’

Mrs Barnabus struggled with herself. She would have liked to give the viscount a sharp set-down but she wanted his help, and she was very much afraid if she ordered him to apologise or be on his way, he would choose the latter option. The fact that he was well aware of her inner turmoil did nothing to improve her temper. She forgot her plaintive tone and spoke curtly.

‘He has formed a disastrous attachment.’

Jasper’s black brows rose.

‘Really? That does not sound like Gerald. When I’ve met him in town I have always thought him a level-headed young buck.’

Apart from a faint moue of distaste she ignored his description of her beloved son.

‘That is why I am so concerned. He came to see me before Christmas, extolling the virtues of this woman—a very paragon she sounded!—but I took little notice. He has always been a sensible boy and I thought his infatuation would soon burn itself out. Then one of my acquaintances wrote to tell me that this … this female holds regular card parties. I am told she won a considerable sum of money from Gerald. Two hundred guineas!’

‘A mere nothing. He could lose more than that in a sitting at White’s.’

‘Perhaps, but my acquaintance says all Bath was talking of it.’