Behind the Rake's Wicked Wager - By Sarah Mallory Page 0,85

am not convinced she and Gerald are not in love.’

* * *

However, a chance meeting with that young man later that day put all doubts to flight. They met in Stall Street and Gerald explained that he was off to the theatre with friends that evening.

‘You are not regretting your new-found freedom then?’ said Jasper, smiling.

Gerald grinned.

‘Not at all, I am supremely happy about it. And the added bonus is that I don’t have to go to the Upper Rooms tonight.’ He took Jasper’s arm and began to walk with him. ‘You know I had my doubts about the betrothal, and I went to Royal Crescent to discuss it with Susannah, as you suggested, but I had hardly begun when she interrupted me to say that she had changed her mind, that we would always be friends but that she could never love me. I cannot tell you how relieved I was. In fact, we laughed over it, once we had agreed to part. She is such a darling girl, but I can see clearly now that we would never suit. The hardest part will be telling my mother. After working so hard to convince her that Susannah was the only woman for me I now have to tell her it was all a hum!’ They had reached Stall Street and prepared to part. ‘I am going to see her tomorrow,’ said Gerald, moving away. ‘Wish me luck!’

* * *

Smiling at the memory, Jasper made his way back to York House. It would appear Miss Prentess was indeed free. If Zelah was correct and Susannah did feel something for him, then why wait to put it to the touch again? He thought back to what she had told him in Sydney Gardens, the confidences she had shared. What if she was not warning him off but merely trying to explain to him her previous actions? The thought raised his spirits. He must talk to her.

Jasper took out his watch. It was nearly dinnertime, he would write to her, making his intentions perfectly clear and telling her he would call tomorrow morning. He would send the message tonight, so that it would be waiting for her when she returned from the Assembly Rooms. That would give her time to make up her mind. If she did not wish to see him a short note by return would spare her the pain of a meeting, although it would be sufficient to end his hopes. But that would be her choice. Perhaps all was not yet lost.

* * *

Susannah had no inclination for dancing, but they had promised to attend the Fancy Ball and she must keep her word. The Upper Rooms were as full as ever, and there was no shortage of partners, but she did not enjoy herself. By the time the interval came to take tea she had given up all hope of seeing Jasper, which made the evening even more dull and she was relieved when eleven o’clock struck and she could go home.

Susannah and Aunt Maude took chairs to Royal Crescent, but being a fine night they alighted on the pavement and shook out their skirts before ascending the scrubbed steps to the front door. They had barely entered the house when a body hurled itself off the street and into the hall, causing panic. Mrs Wilby shrieked as Gatley laid hands on the intruder. In the ensuing struggle they fell against the hall table, sending the silver tray clattering to the floor. Above the mayhem Susannah heard the man call out to her.

‘Miss Prentess, a minute of your time, I beg you!’

She peered through the gloom.

‘Mr Warwick? What in heaven’s name is the meaning of this?’

‘I must speak to you.’

The young man gazed at her. His hair was dishevelled and there was a wild look in his eyes, but when the butler tried to hustle him out of the door she put out her hand to stop him.

‘Wait, Gatley. Let him speak.’

‘I called earlier, but you were out.’

‘Aye, that he did, miss,’ averred the butler, panting slightly. ‘About eight o’clock.’

‘Goodness, and you have been waiting outside ever since?’

‘Yes.’ He raked his hand through his hair. ‘I have been walking up and down, waiting for you to return. You are my last hope.’

Mrs Wilby tutted loudly. ‘I hardly think this is the time—’

‘Hush, Aunt.’

Susannah regarded her visitor with some concern. With his crumpled neckcloth and haggard eyes he looked more like a ragged schoolboy than the fashionable gentleman