Behind the Rake's Wicked Wager - By Sarah Mallory Page 0,28

held her peace.

Sitting with the viscount was causing some comment. Brows were raised, Susannah saw one or two of the matrons whispering behind their fans, but when one particularly haughty lady smiled and inclined her head towards Susannah, a chuckle escaped her.

The viscount’s brows went up.

‘Being seen in your company is proving most useful for me,’ she explained, her eyes twinkling. ‘There are several very high sticklers here tonight and I have never known them to look upon me with such approval.’

‘Why should they not approve of you?’

‘Oh, well...’ she waved her hand ‘...because my father was a mere captain. Because my uncle was a nabob.’

‘A very rich nabob,’ he corrected her.

‘True.’ She sipped at her wine. ‘But birth is everything.’

‘Is it?’ He shifted his position to face her. ‘You are a gentleman’s daughter, and heir to a fortune. I should have thought that would open every door in Bath to you.’

‘Perhaps it would, if I would conform and toady up to those matrons who think themselves so superior.’

‘From what I know of you, I cannot imagine you doing that.’

His sudden smile flashed and for a moment she was dazzled by his charm, as if someone had knocked all the breath out of her body. She looked away quickly. She was meant to be charming him.

Jasper felt rather than saw her sudden withdrawal. She had been relaxed, prepared to confide in him and he was reluctant to let the moment go. He remembered something Gerald had said to him.

‘Living in the Crescent, in such an elevated position, could be seen as having pretensions.’

‘Perhaps.’

He smiled. ‘But you don’t really care for their good opinion, do you?’

He read the answer in her face.

‘To have their approval could be very useful,’ she said carefully.

‘To enhance your little card parties?’

‘Of course. Imagine how much I would like to have a dowager duchess in my drawing room.’

Her eyes twinkled wickedly. She was teasing him again and Jasper was surprised how much he enjoyed that.

‘No doubt you would not refuse to play picquet with her.’

‘Of course not.’

‘But you will not play with a mere viscount.’

‘Not with you, my lord.’

‘Why not? You have played picquet with my cousin on more than one occasion.’

‘That is different.’

‘Why, because you are going to marry him?’

‘No!’

He cursed inwardly as soon as he uttered the question, but the tone of her denial and the serious look in her eye reassured him. She was sincere.

She gave a sigh. ‘Can you not content yourself with winning two hundred pounds from my aunt last week?’

‘A mere trifle. Two games of picquet for pound points would recover that.’

‘Or double the loss.’

‘True.’ He leaned forwards. ‘What would it take, Miss Prentess, to make you play with me?’

He saw the shutters come down. He had pressed her too hard. She laughed and shook her head at him.

‘Fie, my lord, I have no doubt you are used to playing in the London clubs, to losing thousands at a sitting. Do you expect me to risk my pin-money against you?’ She rose. ‘You may come to Royal Crescent, my lord, and I will play with you at vingt-et-un, or loo, where there are others at the table.’

‘You consider me too dangerous an opponent to play alone?’

Jasper was standing, too. The top of her head, crowned by those guinea-gold curls, was level with his eyes. She was the perfect height for kissing. He shrugged off the distracting thought as he held her gaze. She returned look for look, but there was no sign of laughter now in those hazel eyes. Suddenly all Jasper’s senses were on the alert, aware that they were not speaking merely about playing cards.

‘I think you could be extremely dangerous, my lord.’ Her words fell softly between them before she turned and walked away.

* * *

‘The lady seems displeased with you, Markham.’ Charles Camerton came up to him. ‘What did you say to her?’

‘I asked her to play cards with me.’ He did not take his eyes off the retreating figure. ‘She refused me.’

Camerton chuckled.

‘You must be losing your touch, old friend.’

The comment rankled, but Jasper tried to ignore it.

‘Or perhaps,’ mused Charles, ‘she is playing with you, to excite your interest.’

‘Perhaps.’ Jasper kept his tone light, but in his heart he didn’t want to think that Susannah was toying with him.

* * *

‘Good morning, Miss. I’ve brought your hot chocolate.’

Susannah groaned. After tossing and turning all night, she had only just dropped into a deep slumber when Dorcas’s cheerful voice disturbed her. The curtains were thrown