Sarah Mallory - Behind the Rake's Wicked Wager

‘Does that matter now? Since the lady has refused you …’

‘I hope she will be persuaded to change her mind.’ They had reached George Street and the entrance to York House. Jasper stood back for Gerald to precede him but the young man turned to him, saying earnestly, ‘You have met her, Jasper. You could speak to Mama for me. Susannah—Miss Prentess—is infinitely superior to every other woman I have ever met, you must see that.’

‘Ah …’ Jasper gave him a rueful smile ‘… but I have met rather more women than you, Cousin. Now, shall we go in out of the cold?’

Gerald took his leave a couple of hours later, but instead of retiring immediately, Jasper poured himself another brandy and settled himself into the chair beside the fire. He had done his duty by his cousin and warned him against proposing marriage again without careful thought, but Gerald had merely laughed at his concerns and asked him what fault he could find with Susannah Prentess. And indeed, Jasper could not find any, but something nagged at him.

He had spent the evening in Royal Crescent, watching and listening. The card party appeared to be quite innocuous and everyone enjoyed themselves, especially the numerous gentlemen who vied with each other for the opportunity to play cards with Miss Prentess, but he would be surprised if many of them left the house richer than they entered it. Both his hostess and her niece were excellent card players. He had observed them closely during the evening—their assessment of their opponents’ hands was shrewd and the play was as clever as anything he had seen in town. Then there was the widow, Mrs Logan. She appeared to be very thick with Miss Prentess, and when the two ladies sat down together at the whist table they were unbeatable.

Jasper frowned, cupping his brandy glass between his hands. He had seen no evidence of sharp practice, and he noted that Miss Prentess kept the stakes deliberately low and gently turned away any gentleman who was losing too much. She was very clever, winning small amounts, not enough to cause the loser distress, or to arouse suspicion. And as Gerald said, they were safer playing there than in some gambling hell. But there were at least a dozen gentlemen present, and fifty guineas from each….

‘Hell and confound it, she is an heiress,’ he muttered. ‘She cannot want the money!’

Perhaps they needed the extra funds for their lifestyle. But there had been nothing too lavish about the supper provided for the guests and Miss Prentess’s gown of figured muslin showed quality rather than ostentation.

He finished his brandy in one gulp and set down the glass. He had fulfilled his promise. He could write to Gloriana and tell her that Miss Prentess was no harpy, but something still rankled. Gerald had laughed off his words of caution and was obviously too infatuated with the lady to make a rational judgement, so it behooved his older and more worldly-wise cousin to do it for him.

He would remain in Bath.

‘My dear, are you sure you want to go to the ball tonight? You are almost asleep there.’

Susannah looked up with a start. She and her aunt were sitting in the morning room, where the welcome heat from the fire had made her quite drowsy.

‘Of course, ma’am. I shall be very well, once I have had dinner.’ Susannah brushed aside her aunt’s concerns with a smile.

‘But you have been sitting there this past half-hour without saying a word.’

‘Then I beg your pardon, I am a little tired after my travelling today.’

‘You were gone for so long I was beginning to worry.’

‘There was no need, Aunt. You know I had Dorcas with me.’

‘But I do worry, my love. I can never be easy when you are … visiting. One never knows what you might pick up.’

Susannah smiled. ‘My dear aunt, I assure you there is no danger of contamination.’

‘Not of the body , perhaps, but—’

‘Please, Aunt, you know we have discussed this often and often. There is no danger at all in what I do, so let us not pursue it.’ She looked across as the door opened. ‘Ah, here is Gatley to tell us dinner is ready. Shall we go down?’

Susannah did her best to entertain her aunt at dinner and to hide all signs of fatigue, but she had to admit to herself that she was tired. It had been three o’clock before the last of the guests had left and she could fall into bed that morning. She should not complain, for it proved how successful their little card parties had become. But she had been up and out of the house before ten o’clock, not returning to the Crescent until late in the afternoon. Her aunt would argue that there was no need for her to go out, that she could entrust such errands to a servant, but Susannah’s independent spirit baulked at that. She had set herself a task and she would see it through. And that included going to the ball tonight.

The Upper Rooms were already crowded when Susannah and her aunt arrived. Their chairmen weaved through the press of carriages and deposited them under the entrance portico, where the music from the ballroom could be faintly heard. It was ten o’clock, the hour when the fashionable would leave their private parties and proceed to the ball, so the entrance was buzzing with activity. There were many acquaintances to be greeted once the ladies had removed their cloaks and straightened their shawls.

Susannah waved to Mrs Logan, who had just arrived, then turned back to greet a turbaned matron who sailed up to her with two marriageable daughters in her wake.

‘Oh, Miss Prentess—another new gown? You are always so beautifully turned out.’ The matron sighed ecstatically as she regarded Susannah’s flowered muslin. ‘So fine, my dear. And the lace edging, quite, quite exquisite. Is it Brussels?’

Susannah smiled and shook her head. ‘No, ma’am, it is made locally, and it is exclusive to Odesse, the new modiste in Henrietta Street.’

‘Indeed? I thought you had ordered it from London, so fine as it is.’

‘Thank you, Mrs Bulstrode. I find Odesse excellent. And she has excelled herself; I did not expect to have this gown for another week at least.’

The matron’s eyes brightened. ‘And in Henrietta Street, you say?’

‘Yes, her prices are very reasonable.’ Susanna dropped her voice a little. ‘Especially when one considers what one has to pay for gowns in Milsom Street. Not that one objects to the price, of course, but Odesse does seem to have a certain style …’

‘Indeed she does, Miss Prentess. That gown is quite superb. Well, well, I shall look her up.’ With a smile Mrs Bulstrode gathered her daughters and went off, leaving Susannah to smile after her.

‘Excellent,’ murmured Kate, coming up. ‘That could not have been better timed. Amelia Bulstrode is such a gabble-monger that our new modiste’s name will be on every woman’s lips by the end of the evening.’

‘And her gowns will be on a good many ladies’ backs by the end of the month,’ added Susannah. ‘I have achieved what I wanted to do without even entering the ballroom.’ She noted the startled look in Mrs Wilby’s eye and shook her head, laughing. ‘You need not fear, Aunt, I do not intend to go home yet. I hope to drum up even more business for the new modiste before the evening is out.’

‘Don’t!’ hissed Mrs Wilby in an urgent whisper. ‘Pray, Susannah, do not mention the word business. It is not at all becoming.’

‘Quite right,’ agreed Kate, her lips twitching. ‘Susannah is a lady and should know nothing about such matters. She is here merely to look beautiful and to stir up such envy that the other ladies will all want to know where she buys her gowns.’