Behind the Rake's Wicked Wager - By Sarah Mallory Page 0,90
he turned away and she could not be sure.
‘Nothing. It is not important. Tell me, Miss Prentess. How do you intend to get back to Bath?’
‘Do you know, my lord, until this moment I had not considered. I have no idea.’
He came to stand before her, calm and assured.
‘Then I can offer you a solution, madam. My curricle is outside. I will convey you to Royal Crescent.’
Susannah might tell herself she felt nothing for him, but when Jasper was standing over her, the capes of his driving coat making his shoulders look so impossibly broad, it was difficult to ignore his powerful presence. Her heart was thudding painfully in her chest but she tried to think sensibly. It was a perfectly logical solution. A dignified, graceful acceptance was all that was required, but her nerves had been at full stretch the whole morning and she could not control the torrent of words that poured forth.
‘Thank you. Unless perhaps I should remain here in case Mr Anstruther should appear. What do you think? I do not consider it at all likely that he will arrive today, and I have every confidence that Mrs Gifford will be able to convince him that his daughter was never here—we keep a record of all our residents of course, but she enters false names for them, you see.’
Susannah listened to herself, horrified, knowing she had only stopped because she had run out of breath.
‘I believe you can leave Mrs Gifford to deal with Mr Anstruther, if he should arrive,’ replied Jasper. ‘You should come back to Bath with me, now.’
‘Very well.’ She rose and went to the table to collect her bonnet and gloves. ‘I must say that your arrival is very convenient. I would have had to ask old Daniel to take me home in the gig.’
His lips twitched.
‘I fear that a common gig would never do for you, Miss Prentess.’
He picked up her cloak and put it around her shoulders. The touch of his hands, fleeting though it was, instantly brought a reaction. Her body tensed, every nerve on end, anticipating the next contact. Dear heaven, she must get over this! She quickly stepped away from him.
‘I shall take my leave of Mrs Gifford and our guests, and join you outside.’
Jasper stood on the drive and breathed deeply, taking the cold, clear air into his lungs. She had not seen his message. She did not know he had intended to make her an offer. The mixture of frustration and rage that had consumed him during his headlong dash to Florence House was still simmering within him. She was the most infuriating woman he had ever met. He could not pin her down, she was constantly surprising him.
Perhaps he should not propose to her. He never knew where he stood with Susannah from one moment to the next. And the emotions she aroused in him—would he ever be in control if he allowed her into his life? He turned in time to see her coming out of the house, tying the ribbons of her bonnet beneath her chin as she walked towards him. The bonnet was not the frivolous, over-decorated confection preferred by most fashionable ladies, but its stylish simplicity was very becoming. The pale satin lining of the wide brim gave her countenance an added glow, and the jaunty angle of the bow drew attention to the dainty chin and those cherry lips, just waiting to be kissed.
No! After what she had told him yesterday he dare not indulge in such fantasies. No wonder she was so afraid of his embraces. He schooled his features into what he hoped was a polite smile and waited to help her into the curricle. The hesitation she showed before allowing those slender fingers in their kid glove to touch his hand was confirmation that she was still wary of him.
He set the team in motion, waiting for Morton to scramble up behind him before settling them into the swift, comfortable pace that would carry them all the way to Bath. She made an innocuous comment about the weather. He responded with a monosyllable. Jasper kept himself rigidly upright, trying not to react when the jolting of the curricle threw her against him. The silence between them seemed to grow more awkward as the miles passed. Finally he cleared his throat.
‘I shall be leaving Bath tomorrow.’
‘I am surprised you have stayed so long, my lord.’
Her cold response disappointed him. Not even a polite word of regret. He