Behind the Rake's Wicked Wager - By Sarah Mallory Page 0,10

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.

Chapter Three

‘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