Behind the Rake's Wicked Wager - By Sarah Mallory Page 0,25

tells her friends that may bring in more orders.’

Susannah smiled at him.

‘It may indeed. You see, you have been a great help, Mr Barnabus—’

‘Gerald,’ he corrected her. ‘Are we not friends enough now to dispense with formalities?’

‘Gerald, then.’ She shook off the twinge of guilt at allowing such familiarity. She had made it plain they could only ever be friends, after all. Then, hating herself for succumbing, she asked the question that had been in her mind ever since he arrived. ‘Has Lord Markham left Bath?’

‘No, he is still here and means to look in presently. But enough of this. Are you free? Will you play picquet with me?’

She shook her head.

‘You know you always lose.’

‘Tonight I feel lucky,’ he declared. ‘And I have improved vastly since we last played. Mrs Logan said so.’

She laughed at that.

‘Very well, then, but do not expect me to hold back. I shall show you no mercy!’

* * *

In the event, mercy was not necessary. Susannah had chosen a table where she could watch the door, and such was her distraction that Gerald won the first game. The second was closer, but the entrance of more visitors caused her to lose track of the discards and she was defeated again.

‘I told you I had improved,’ chortled Gerald, sweeping the coins from the table.

‘You are very right,’ agreed Susannah, getting up. ‘But perhaps you will oblige me by taking your winnings to the loo table and giving my aunt a chance to recoup.’

With a smile she excused herself, glancing at the clock. It was gone ten, there would be very few visitors arriving now. Even as she thought this the door opened and Lord Markham walked in. His appearance made her spirits leap most shamefully. Susannah could not deny that she had been looking out for him, as she had done in vain the previous week. He might be suspicious of her, and cause her nerves to flutter alarmingly, but any party where he was not present was an insipid affair. When she had seen him at the concert she had wanted so much to speak to him, but Aunt Maude had warned her that he had asked awkward questions, and she knew it would be folly to linger and risk further interrogation. All such thoughts were bundled into the back of her mind now as she moved forwards to greet him, wondering why it was that he was not charmed by her smile like every other man in the room.

‘Lord Markham.’

She held out her hand but, despite steeling herself, his touch still sent a tremor of excitement running up her arm, and when his lips brushed her fingers the excitement flooded through her before settling into an indescribable ache somewhere low in her body.

‘Your servant, Miss Prentess. I have brought someone to meet you. May I present Mr Charles Camerton? He is an avid card player.’

‘Indeed?’ She subjected the newcomer to a swift appraisal. He looked genial enough, some years older than the viscount, she guessed. His figure was good, his clothes elegant and his curling brown hair was fashionably short. A man used to the London salons, perhaps. ‘I hope we will not disappoint you, sir. This is merely a friendly little gathering.’

‘Those are the best sort, Miss Prentess. I am here with every intention of enjoying myself.’

‘Then what will you play, sir? I could find two more players, if you and Lord Markham would like to play whist, or...’

Mr Camerton looked around the room until his eyes came to rest upon Kate, who was at that moment opening two fresh packs of cards.

‘Vingt-et-un,’ offered Susannah, following his gaze. ‘It is very popular.’

‘And it is my favourite game. If you will excuse me?’

With a practised smile and a bow he moved off towards Kate’s table.

‘Which leaves you with me.’

The viscount’s low murmur was like a feather on her skin. She glanced at her arm to see if it was covered in tell-tale goose-bumps. Thankfully there were none.

‘I am sure we can find something—’

‘I thought we might play picquet. You and I,’ he added, so there should be no misunderstanding.

‘Thank you, sir, but I think not.’

‘Afraid?’

She would not rise to his taunt. Instead she replied frankly, ‘Your cousin tells me you are an expert at the game. I will not risk it.’

She looked about her, hoping to distract him. ‘My aunt is playing macao and there is room at her table...’

‘If you were a true gambler you would not be able to resist the