Behind the Rake's Wicked Wager - By Sarah Mallory Page 0,26
challenge.’
Her chin went up.
‘If you were a true gentleman you would not press me so.’
That only made him smile more.
‘Is it the game that frightens you, or me?’
Her cheeks flamed at his quiet words. She could feel the heat flooding through her and her heart was beating wildly, making her breathless. Her senses were heightened, as if by a sudden danger. She was enveloped by his closeness. She wanted to flee, but was rooted to the spot. She must be rational. This was her drawing room, they were surrounded by people. What possible harm could come to her here? Yet everything around them was muted. It was as if they were alone, shut off from the world. She could smell the tangy scent of him, sandalwood and lemon and a faint, indefinable fragrance that she now recognised was his alone.
Her eyes were fixed on his chin, on that mobile mouth with its finely sculpted lips and the faint creases at each side that deepened when he smiled. She dare not look higher and instead dragged her eyes down and stared at the diamond winking from the folds of his neck cloth.
‘Well, Miss Prentess?’
He was so close she felt his breath on her brow, soft as a caress.
This must stop. Now. Gathering all her strength she drew herself up and forced herself to look him in the face.
Well, she fixed her eyes somewhere around his left temple.
‘It is not fear, Lord Markham,’ she said coolly. ‘It is common sense. One should never take unnecessary risks.’
She turned to walk away and he touched her arm.
‘One more thing. You were seen with Gerald on Friday morning.’
She spun back, quickly schooling her features into a look of haughty unconcern.
‘What is so wrong about that, my lord?’
‘He cried off from an appointment with me to accompany you.’
She had not known that, and regretted it, but she was determined the viscount should not know it. She summoned a glittering smile, as if it was her victory.
‘That is unfortunate, of course, but it is no concern of mine.’
The tightening of his jaw told her he was angry. With a slight nod she turned and walked away from him, the knowledge that he was watching her sending a ripple of unease along the length of her spine.
* * *
‘Well, Camerton, what did you think of Bath’s latest hell?’ asked Jasper.
They were walking away from Royal Crescent, keeping up a brisk pace to offset the icy wind that whipped around them, tugging at their coats. Charles Camerton laughed at Jasper’s description.
‘Mrs Wilby’s soirée is no hell, my friend. The stakes are so low they would be ridiculed in town.’
‘True, they are unlikely to arouse the interest of the magistrates,’ agreed Jasper. ‘You saw no instances of foul play?’
‘None. Mrs Wilby and her niece are canny players, as sharp as any females I have ever encountered.’
‘Aye, and they favour the games where skill and a good memory will aid them. What of Mrs Logan? I noticed you spent a great deal of time at her table.’
Camerton grinned.
‘With such paltry sums at stake I had to find something to entertain me! She is different and I like that. I suspect she was a professional gamester at some time. She gave me a run for my money. However...’ he patted
his pocket ‘...I came away the richer, so I am not complaining.’
‘Nor do the other men that play there, but I am convinced they rarely win.’
‘Ah, but they are not there for the cards. They are there to worship at the feet of La Prentess.’
‘You noticed that?’
‘Of course. She is a diamond. Your cousin Barnabus is most definitely enamoured.’ Jasper frowned. That was not what he wanted to hear. He dragged his thoughts back to Charles, who was still speaking. ‘And you say she is an heiress? Interesting. With her looks she should be in town. She could make a brilliant alliance.’
‘That is what I thought,’ agreed Jasper, frowning. ‘I believe her family come from London. Dammit, Charles, there is some mystery here.’
‘And you have an interest in La Prentess so you want to know what it might be?’
Jasper was quick to disclaim.
‘I am only interested in saving my cousin from a disastrous liaison.’
‘Don’t see that marriage to an heiress would be that much of a disaster.’
Jasper had said very much the same to Gloriana, but now it was important to him that Susannah Prentess should not marry Gerald.
‘You know,’ mused Charles, ‘I might even have a touch at La Prentess myself.’