chapter Sixteen
The sun streaming through the curtains roused Jasper. He looked at his watch. It was very early, but he knew he would not sleep again. Today he was going to ask Susannah Prentess to marry him. There had been no reply from Royal Crescent, and he was sure that if Susannah was going to refuse him she would have replied immediately. He got up, calling for Peters to bring hot water. He would shave now and get dressed. Not in the clothes he planned to wear for his visit to Royal Crescent, but the plain dark riding coat and buckskins that he could walk out in, to pass the hours until he could see Susannah. He strode out of the town and up on to Beechen Cliff. The wind was warm, a promise of the summer to come. Jasper smiled to himself. A good omen, perhaps? A sign that the gods were smiling upon him. He heard the distant chiming of a bell on the breeze as he headed back towards York House. As long as there was no note waiting for him, he would call on Susannah at ten o’clock. There was plenty of time for a leisurely breakfast and to change into his morning coat and knee breeches before setting off for the most momentous meeting of his life.
‘Peters, Peters! Where the devil are you?’ He strode through the rooms, frowning. Then he heard the scurry of footsteps behind him.
‘My lord, thank heaven you are back!’ Peters ran in, one hand on his chest which was heaving alarmingly as he gasped out his explanation. ‘I was out collecting your best shirt from the laundrywoman. Knew you would want to wear it this morning. I was about to cross Gay Street when a travelling carriage comes down the road. Naturally I stepped back out of the way, but happened to look up as it went past me, and I saw who was in it.’
‘Well, what of it?’
Jasper looked at him impatiently, he had more important things on his mind. Should he wear his white quilted waistcoat or the oyster satin with the pearl buttons?
‘It was Miss Prentess, my lord. Large as life.’
Jasper forgot about waistcoats.
‘What? Are you quite sure?’
‘Yes, my lord. The carriage was forced to slow to wait for a bullock cart to get out of the way and I had plenty of time to look.’ Peters paused to regain his breath.
‘And is there a note for me from Royal Crescent?’
‘No, my lord. I left word at the desk that any messages were to be brought upstairs immediately.’ The valet added in a colourless voice, ‘She was travelling with young Mr Warwick, my lord.’
His words hit Jasper like cold water. She was running away from him. She knew he intended to make her an offer and she was too afraid to tell him to his face that she could not marry him. So that was it. Over.
Peters was still talking.
‘It was a smart turn-out, my lord, four horses, no expense spared, I’d say, and a couple of trunks strapped to the roof. I’ve got a lad following the carriage to see which way they are heading and to report back. And I sent word to the stable for Morton to bring your curricle round.’
Jasper turned on him with and growl.
‘Dammit, Peters, I have never yet chased after any woman!’
The valet gave him a long stare.
‘This isn’t any woman, my lord. It is Miss Prentess.’
Aye, and she didn’t want to face him. First she had used Gerald Barnabus to protect her. Now Warwick. Devil take it, why should he care?
Only Warwick was not Gerald. Warwick was not a diffident young man who would treat Susannah gently if she refused his advances. Jasper did not know the man well, but if the rumours were anything to go by he was a hot-headed young buck who had already ruined one lady’s reputation.
He picked up his hat and gloves.
‘By God you are right. I must go after her!’
* * *
Susannah paced up and down the parlour at Florence House, anxiously pulling her gloves through her hands. Mrs Gifford was sitting by the window quietly mending a pillowcase.
‘Perhaps I should not leave them alone.’
Mrs Gifford looked up, her kindly old eyes twinkling.
‘My dear, Violet was quite happy to afford the young man a private interview.’
‘I know, but perhaps he is coercing her.’
‘They are only in the next room. She has but to raise her voice and we would hear it.’ The housekeeper picked up her scissors and snipped the thread. ‘Be patient,’ she said, putting away her needle and folding up the pillowcase. ‘You were sufficiently convinced of Mr Warwick’s sincerity to bring him here. Now let him make his case to the lady.’
Susannah stopped pacing.
‘I may be wrong,’ she said. ‘Until very recently I would not put my trust in any man—’ She broke off as the adjoining door opened and the young couple came in. One look at Violet’s happy face told her that everything was well.
‘Miss Anstruther has consented to become my wife,’ declared Mr Warwick, following Violet into the parlour. He caught her hand and smiled down at her. ‘We want to be married immediately, so that no disgrace shall be attached to my child.’
The proud note in his voice as he uttered the last two words was unmistakable. Mrs Gifford caught Susannah’s eye and smiled.
‘That is settled then.’ The housekeeper got up from her chair and came forwards to envelope Violet in a motherly embrace. ‘I wish you very well, my dear.’
‘You understand what you must do?’ Susannah asked Violet.
The girl nodded. ‘We fly to Scotland immediately, I understand that.’
‘But Miss Prentess is sending her own maid to act as your chaperon and look after you until we can be married,’ Mr Warwick told her. He addressed Susannah. ‘I will not risk a meeting with Anstruther until Violet is my wife, but once I have her safe then I shall write to him. I hope he will recognise the connection.’
‘And if he will not?’ asked Susannah gently.
‘Then I shall take Violet to my own family. I have already written to apprise them of the situation.’ The young man met her gaze steadily. ‘I have told them what a fool I was not to accept my responsibilities immediately.’
‘Oh, no, no,’ cried Violet. ‘You were shocked, frightened, I quite understand.’
His arm went about her.
‘Ah, sweetheart, you are an angel to be so forgiving, but I must bear some blame...’
‘Yes, yes, you can discuss all this in the carriage,’ Susannah interrupted them. ‘If you are going to make any headway at all today then you need to be setting off as soon as may be. We know your father is on his way to Bath, Violet. It would be better if he did not find you here.’
‘No indeed.’ Violet’s eyes darkened with fear. ‘I will go and collect my things, and I must say goodbye to Jane and Lizzie, and the babies.’
She hurried away, returning a few minutes later with her meagre belongings packed in a single portmanteau and her travelling cloak around her shoulders. Mrs Gifford provided a basket of food and a flask of wine to refresh them on their journey and Susannah accompanied them to the door, where the carriage was waiting.
‘I cannot tell you how very grateful I am to you, Miss Prentess.’ Violet hugged her. ‘Without your kindness I do not know what would have become of me.’
‘You need not think of that now. You have no doubts about marrying Mr Warwick?’
‘Oh, no, none at all.’ Violet’s eyes positively shone at the prospect. ‘But how will you manage without your maid? Who knows how long we will be gone?’
‘I shall miss her, of course, but she is by far the best person to look after you on your long journey,’ replied Susannah, sending a laughing glance towards her servant as she helped Violet into the carriage. ‘You have sufficient money with you, Dorcas? I do not want you to leave Miss Anstruther until she has hired a suitable maid.’
‘Don’t you worry, miss, I’ll make sure she takes on someone that knows how to look after her. ’Tis you I am more concerned about, miss,’ said the maid gruffly. ‘Without me to dress you.’
‘I shall fetch Mary upstairs to help me,’ replied Susannah. ‘You said yourself she has ambitions to be a lady’s maid. Now go along, and look after your new charge.’
A flurry of goodbyes, a few last minute words of advice and the carriage was shut up.
‘Ah, they are such children,’ declared Mrs Gifford, wiping her eyes with the corner of her apron. ‘I pray they will be happy.’
‘So, too, do I,’ muttered Susannah fervently.
She stepped back and raised her hand in a final salute as the coachman 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.’
‘I do not know what you are talking about.’
He stopped pacing and stared at her.
‘Did you not receive my note?’
‘Note, sir? What note? What did it say?’
She fancied a dull flush tinged his cheek, but 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 retorted bitterly, ‘It was not my original intention.’
‘I hope you do not blame me for that.’
‘Who else should I blame? It was my cousin’s interest in you that brought me here in the first place.’
She stared at him.
‘I told you at the outset I had no intention of marrying Gerald.’
‘And then you became engaged to him.’
She turned away again, but not before he had seen the shock in her eyes. He might as well have struck her. Remorse flayed him, but it only added to his frustration.
‘You know that was an error.’ She added, with something of her old spirit, ‘But it is not one I intend to repeat.’
‘I am glad to hear it. I pity any man who falls into your clutches.’
He regretted the words immediately, but they had reached the old bridge leading into Bath and the sudden appearance of a barouche made his team shy. He was obliged to give his attention to preventing a collision before he could reply.
‘I beg your pardon, Susannah. I—’
‘Do not speak to me,’ she commanded him in arctic tones. ‘I will not spend another moment in your company. You will set me down immediately, if you please.’
‘The devil I will. You cannot walk alone through this part of the town.’
‘I can do whatever I want!’
‘Do not be so foolish. No lady should walk near the docks, and beyond that are the poorest stews of Bath. Heaven knows what would become of you if I set you down here.’
‘If you will not stop I will jump down.’
‘Oh, no, you won’t.’ He reached out and grabbed her wrist. ‘You are in my care and I shall deliver you to your house.’
‘Your care, my lord, has almost resulted in my ruin on at least two occasions.’
Jasper glanced behind. Morton was sitting in the rumble seat, wooden-faced. He would stake his life on Morton’s discretion, but she must be very angry with him, to speak so in front of a servant.
Susannah tried to shake off his iron grip.
‘Let go of me!’
His hold on her wrist did not weaken. The heat from his fingers burned through her sleeve.
‘Only if you promise that you will not try to jump down. Quickly,’ he growled. ‘I cannot control this team with one hand and if you will not give me your word then I shall instruct Morton to hold you in your seat.’ He showed his teeth. ‘Only think how that would look.’
‘You wouldn’t dare!’
‘Morton—’
‘Very well!’ Hastily and with a burning look of reproach she made her promise. How could she have ever thought him a gentleman!
‘Good.’ He released her and she cradled her wrist in her other hand, convinced she would see a bruise there if she were to peel back her sleeve. ‘Now you will sit still until we reach Royal Crescent. If you move so much as a finger then Morton will lay hands on you, is that understood?’
She sat upright, staring rigidly before her as they picked up speed. The sense of injustice was fanned by the ensuing silence.
‘You are a monster,’ she told him. When that elicited no reply she added, ‘A brutish beast. You should be locked up.’
Still he did not reply. She tried again.
‘I have never known why everyone thinks you so charming. You are a fraud, Lord Markham. You are nothing but a rake. A—a libertine. A wolf in sheep’s clothing. A seducer of innocent females.’
His frown grew blacker with every word she threw at him, but he said nothing until he had guided the curricle into the Crescent and pulled up at her front door.
‘We will continue this conversation inside.’
‘If you think I am going to allow you into my house after this—!’
With a total want of decorum she scrambled out of the curricle and ran up the steps. Unfortunately Gatley had not been prepared for their approach and she was obliged to hammer upon the knocker. Behind her she heard Morton addressing his master.
‘I’ll take ’em back to the stables, shall I, m’lord? You’re in a fair way to ruining their mouths, the way you’ve been jerking at the ribbons.’
Glancing back, she saw that Jasper had jumped down and was even now on the pavement. The door opened and she ran inside, but before she could order Gatley to deny him, Jasper had followed her into the hall.
‘I am afraid Mrs Wilby is not at home,’ offered the butler. ‘She left a message to say she is visiting Lady Gisburne today and after dinner they are going on to a concert at the Lower Rooms.’
Ignoring him, Susannah confronted Jasper.
‘Get out of my house. Immediately!’
‘Not until we have had this out. You have hurled every insult at me and I think you owe me the opportunity to reply!’
‘There is a note for you, madam,’ Gatley went on. ‘The maid found it beneath the hall table when she was cleaning this morning. I have put it on the mantelshelf in the morning room.’
She paid no heed to him but continued to glare at Jasper. It was like confronting a wild animal. If she took her eyes off him he would pounce.
‘Well?’ His own eyes narrowed, anger darkening them to slate-grey.
‘I have nothing to say to you,’ she threw at him.
‘But I have plenty to say to you.’ With a growl he caught her wrist and dragged her towards the nearest doorway.
Gatley dithered beside them.
‘Madam—’
The viscount turned upon him, saying imperiously, ‘We are not to be disturbed!’
He dragged Susannah into the morning room, closed the door and turned the key in the lock.