Behind the Rake's Wicked Wager - By Sarah Mallory Page 0,58
your own establishment, you should contribute to ours. I do not know why you want to pander to these females, setting them up in their own house out of town with a cook and a housekeeper and treating them as guests. Guests! They should be made to work, to understand the error of their ways. And if she were my niece, Mrs Wilby—’ she turned her attack towards Aunt Maude ‘—I would strongly counsel her to leave these matters to those who understand them.’
‘I’m afraid she is right,’ added Mr Farthing, smiling at Susannah in a very patronising way. ‘You young
ladies like your worthy causes, I know, but my dear wife has the right of it. You should not be associating with these creatures, lest you become tainted.’
Susannah’s temper reared at that, but Aunt Maude nipped her arm. Somehow she managed to hold her peace while Mrs Wilby smiled and nodded and said all that was necessary before leading her away.
‘Tainted!’ Susannah almost ground her teeth in annoyance. ‘Why, Aunt, if anyone is to talk of arrogance—’
‘I know, my dear, but few people are as liberal as you.’ Aunt Maude patted her arm as she guided her firmly towards the waiting carriage. ‘It is the reason we told no one about your little scheme, is it not? How on earth did word get out?’
Susannah wondered this, too, and she considered the matter during the short drive back to Royal Crescent.
‘I do not believe it could have come from the servants, I pay them very well for their discretion.’
‘Mrs Farthing did seem to be particularly well informed,’ mused Aunt Maude as the carriage pulled up at their door. ‘I suppose the truth was bound to come out at some point.’
‘But not yet,’ muttered Susannah. ‘Not now.’
She followed Aunt Maude into the house, where they divested themselves of their coats before repairing to the drawing room.
‘It could be very damaging if the connection between Odesse and Florence House is known,’ said Aunt Maude. ‘She is not yet well established, and the knowledge might affect her business. If that happened we would have to find another market for the lace, too. But who could have let it slip? Apart from the servants only you, me and Kate Logan know the truth.’
Susannah walked to the window and stared out. Suddenly the spring sun did not seem quite so bright.
‘There is another,’ she said slowly. ‘Lord Markham knows the truth.’
‘What?’
Susannah turned from the window. She could not bring herself to meet her aunt’s astonished gaze.
‘He followed me on Friday morning. I was obliged to explain to him. Everything.’
‘Oh heavens!’ Aunt Maude fell back in her chair, one hand pressed to her breast. ‘Why did you not say earlier, my dear? I suppose you thought it not worth a mention. And when I recall how bad the weather was on Friday, I suppose we must think ourselves lucky that he was not snowed up with you.’
‘Well, actually, ma’am...’
* * *
It took all Susannah’s reassurance and the judicious use of her aunt’s silver vinaigrette bottle to bring Mrs Wilby back to a semblance of normality. She would not rest until she had heard the whole story. She was shocked, scandalised, not least when Susannah told her that the viscount had cooked dinner for them all.
‘Well he is a very odd sort of man,’ she declared, fanning herself rapidly. ‘To remain in the house while you were all at sixes and sevens with the birth. And you say he did not insist upon taking the best bedchamber? Very odd indeed.’
‘He was content to sleep in the parlour and leave Mrs Gifford’s room for me.’ Susannah was relieved when her aunt accepted the inference. She feared that not even the vinaigrette would help if she had to confess to spending the night in the same room as the viscount.
‘Oh good heavens, what a tangle,’ declared Mrs Wilby. ‘It is bad enough that everyone knows you are involved in Florence House. If they should discover that you spent the night there, alone, with Lord Markham—’
‘I was hardly alone, Aunt,’ objected Susannah. ‘There was the scullery maid, three other ladies and two babies in the house, too.’
‘As if that makes it any better! I suppose it is too much to hope that the viscount has left Bath. He was not at the Abbey.’
‘Neither was Mr Barnabus.’
‘That is true.’ Mrs Wilby sighed. ‘Perhaps we should attend the ball in the Upper Rooms tomorrow night, after all, to make a show of indifference.’