Behind the Rake's Wicked Wager - By Sarah Mallory Page 0,89
gathered up the reins. He was about to pull away when the clatter of hooves announced another vehicle approaching.
‘Oh, good heavens, who can this be?’ exclaimed Mrs Gifford. ‘Never say Mr Anstruther is here already!’
‘No indeed.’ Susannah’s voice faltered as she recognised the curricle sweeping through the gateway. ‘It is Lord Markham.’
He had seen her. He checked his horses and turned on to the carriage circle. Susannah looked at the coachman.
‘He is not obstructing the gates, you can go. Quickly.’ She turned to the housekeeper. ‘You too should go inside, Mrs Gifford. I will join you presently.’
She stepped on to the drive in front of the approaching curricle. If the viscount had any thoughts of pursuing the carriage then she would at least delay him.
‘Lord Markham,’ she hailed him cheerfully. ‘What brings you here?’
He brought the horses to a plunging halt, just feet away from her.
‘I might ask you the same question.’ He waited until his groom had run to the horses’ heads and jumped down. ‘And who was driving away in that carriage?’
She knew of no connection between the viscount and Mr Warwick or Violet Anstruther, but she could not be sure. She kept her smile in place.
‘There is a cold wind, my lord, and I have left my cloak in the parlour. Shall we continue this discussion indoors?’ She heard his firm step on the gravel as he followed her to the house. The parlour was empty and the viscount closed the door upon them with a snap.
‘Now will you tell me what the devil is going on?’
Jasper sounded angry and she turned to him, frowning slightly.
‘I do not understand you.’
‘You were seen leaving Bath this morning. In the company of Mr Warwick.’
‘What of it?’
‘You could have told me you would not be at home.’
Her frown deepened.
‘Why should I do that? This is no business of yours.’
He looked as if he would argue, then thought better of it.
‘So why has he left you here? Where has he gone?’
She regarded him in silence for a few moments. She did not understand him. Yesterday he had been so friendly, so understanding that she had wanted to confide in him, to have no secrets between them. But that had been a mistake. He had clearly been shocked and appalled at what she had told him, for he had left her abruptly, with no word of comfort, nothing to say he wanted to continue the acquaintance. Now here he was, frowning at her, demanding to know what she was about. Did he think because he had stayed at Florence House, helped her during the birth of Jane’s baby, that he was entitled to an explanation? She tried to put aside her own hurt feelings and think logically.
‘You had better sit down, my lord, and I will try to explain.’
‘Thank you, I prefer to stand.’
‘Very well.’ She sank down into the armchair beside the fire. ‘There was talk in Bath—you may have heard it—that Mr Warwick was the father of Violet Anstruther’s baby.’
‘What of it?’
‘It is true. Mr Warwick initially denied all involvement in the case, but when Violet disappeared he had a change of heart. He has been searching for her for some time, I believe. He came to me last night to ask if she was here. He wanted to make reparation, to marry her. He appeared to be in earnest so I brought him to see her.’
‘In a travelling carriage.’
‘He has taken her to the border.’
‘So you were not running away with him.’
‘Of course not!’
‘But it was very convenient for you, to go out of Bath so early this morning, Miss Prentess.’
She blinked at the scathing note in his voice. She had cried herself to sleep last night over the loss of his friendship, but that was over. He could not touch her heart, hurt her, ever again.
‘It was necessary,’ she said coldly. ‘Mr Warwick believes Mr Anstruther is even now on his way here to wrest his daughter away from us. May I ask why you are so interested in this case, my lord? What is it to you?’
‘I have no interest at all in Warwick and Miss Anstruther.’ He was pacing up and down, his black brows drawn together. ‘But it is not the first time you have left Bath to avoid meeting me.’