Behind the Rake's Wicked Wager - By Sarah Mallory Page 0,43

public.’

With that she swept out of the room.

Chapter Eight

Jasper stared at the closed door. One of the candles guttered and went out, increasing the gloom. With a growl of frustration he strained against the silk rope. He was not worried for himself, as Susannah had said, Peters would be back soon, but he did not like to think of her out in the darkened streets alone.

However, there was little he could do about it at present, so he tried to make himself comfortable. The fire had died away to a sullen glow and the air was growing chill, so he wriggled himself under the bedclothes. It took some time but at last he managed to cover himself sufficiently and he settled down to wait for morning.

* * *

Susannah kept her veil pulled over her face as she ran through the deserted streets. The ground was covered with a fine dusting of snow and the cold seeped through her thin slippers, numbing her toes. She had always disliked the way the silk tassels knocked against her when she moved, but now she was painfully aware of their lack. It had been her plan to use the cord tonight, if it should become necessary, and it had worked exceedingly well. She felt a twinge of guilt when she thought of leaving the viscount a prisoner. He would never forgive her for that.

A scuffle made her start and look around nervously, but although she saw shadowy figures in the alleyways and heard the occasional bark of a dog as she hurried on, no one approached her and she reached the Crescent without being accosted. She ran down the area steps and used her key to enter through the servants’ door, which she had instructed Dorcas to leave unbolted. A single lamp burned in the small servants’ hall, and Susannah saw her maid dozing by the dying embers of the fire. She stirred as Susannah secured the door.

‘Ooh, mistress, thank the Lord you are back safe.’

‘Thank heaven indeed,’ murmured Susannah, sinking into a chair.

‘My dear ma’am, you are shaking like a leaf.’

‘Y-yes. I d-didn’t realise how frightened I was.’

Dorcas was wide awake now, and approached her mistress anxiously. ‘Heaven help us! If that rascally viscount has harmed you—’

‘No, no, it was not Lord Markham,’ said Susannah. ‘It was coming back alone through the dark streets. And he is not rascally,’ she added with something of her old spirit. ‘He was merely trying to protect his cousin.’

‘Well, ’twasn’t right for him to go bullying you to dine alone with him. What Mrs Wilby would say if she knew...’

‘It was very wrong of me, I know that.’ Now that the danger was over, Susannah felt a great desire to weep and had to fight back the tears. ‘It is done, and no one is any the worse.’ She glanced out of the window, where the darkness was giving way to the first grey light of dawn. She hoped very much that Peters would return soon and free Lord Markham. Resolutely she turned her thoughts away from the viscount. ‘Come along, Dorcas. I must sleep. My carriage is ordered for eight o’clock.’

‘Never tell me you are going to Florence House in the morning.’

‘You know I must. I have arranged to call for Mrs Logan. We want to see how they go on with the new housekeeper.’ She crept up to her room, thankful that the early hour prevented Dorcas from voicing her opinions as they made their way through the silent house.

* * *

When Peters entered the viscount’s sitting room at York House Jasper greeted him with an angry bellow. Peters rushed to the bedroom and stopped abruptly in the doorway.

‘Well don’t stand there gawping,’ roared Jasper. ‘Untie me!’

‘Yes, m’lord, at once, but, what, who—?’

‘I should think that was obvious,’ growled Jasper, curbing his impatience as Peters struggled with the knots in the silken rope. ‘Thank God the maid did not find me like this.’

‘Knowing the nature of your engagement last night, I informed the staff that you were not to be disturbed,’ replied Peters calmly.

‘The devil you did. What time is it?’

‘Nearing seven, m’lord.’

‘Good. Then we are not too late.’ At last he was free and Jasper sat up, rubbing his wrists. ‘I want you to send a message to the stables. Have Morton come here. Now.’

‘My lord?’

‘I want him to go to Royal Crescent as soon as maybe.’

‘Sir, if I may be so bold, if the lady is reluctant...’ Under his master’s frowning