chapter Eight
Jasper stared at the closed door. One of the candles guttered and went out, increasing the gloom. With a growl of frustration he strained against the silk rope. He was not worried for himself, as Susannah had said, Peters would be back soon, but he did not like to think of her out in the darkened streets alone.
However, there was little he could do about it at present, so he tried to make himself comfortable. The fire had died away to a sullen glow and the air was growing chill, so he wriggled himself under the bedclothes. It took some time but at last he managed to cover himself sufficiently and he settled down to wait for morning.
* * *
Susannah kept her veil pulled over her face as she ran through the deserted streets. The ground was covered with a fine dusting of snow and the cold seeped through her thin slippers, numbing her toes. She had always disliked the way the silk tassels knocked against her when she moved, but now she was painfully aware of their lack. It had been her plan to use the cord tonight, if it should become necessary, and it had worked exceedingly well. She felt a twinge of guilt when she thought of leaving the viscount a prisoner. He would never forgive her for that.
A scuffle made her start and look around nervously, but although she saw shadowy figures in the alleyways and heard the occasional bark of a dog as she hurried on, no one approached her and she reached the Crescent without being accosted. She ran down the area steps and used her key to enter through the servants’ door, which she had instructed Dorcas to leave unbolted. A single lamp burned in the small servants’ hall, and Susannah saw her maid dozing by the dying embers of the fire. She stirred as Susannah secured the door.
‘Ooh, mistress, thank the Lord you are back safe.’
‘Thank heaven indeed,’ murmured Susannah, sinking into a chair.
‘My dear ma’am, you are shaking like a leaf.’
‘Y-yes. I d-didn’t realise how frightened I was.’
Dorcas was wide awake now, and approached her mistress anxiously. ‘Heaven help us! If that rascally viscount has harmed you—’
‘No, no, it was not Lord Markham,’ said Susannah. ‘It was coming back alone through the dark streets. And he is not rascally,’ she added with something of her old spirit. ‘He was merely trying to protect his cousin.’
‘Well, ’twasn’t right for him to go bullying you to dine alone with him. What Mrs Wilby would say if she knew...’
‘It was very wrong of me, I know that.’ Now that the danger was over, Susannah felt a great desire to weep and had to fight back the tears. ‘It is done, and no one is any the worse.’ She glanced out of the window, where the darkness was giving way to the first grey light of dawn. She hoped very much that Peters would return soon and free Lord Markham. Resolutely she turned her thoughts away from the viscount. ‘Come along, Dorcas. I must sleep. My carriage is ordered for eight o’clock.’
‘Never tell me you are going to Florence House in the morning.’
‘You know I must. I have arranged to call for Mrs Logan. We want to see how they go on with the new housekeeper.’ She crept up to her room, thankful that the early hour prevented Dorcas from voicing her opinions as they made their way through the silent house.
* * *
When Peters entered the viscount’s sitting room at York House Jasper greeted him with an angry bellow. Peters rushed to the bedroom and stopped abruptly in the doorway.
‘Well don’t stand there gawping,’ roared Jasper. ‘Untie me!’
‘Yes, m’lord, at once, but, what, who—?’
‘I should think that was obvious,’ growled Jasper, curbing his impatience as Peters struggled with the knots in the silken rope. ‘Thank God the maid did not find me like this.’
‘Knowing the nature of your engagement last night, I informed the staff that you were not to be disturbed,’ replied Peters calmly.
‘The devil you did. What time is it?’
‘Nearing seven, m’lord.’
‘Good. Then we are not too late.’ At last he was free and Jasper sat up, rubbing his wrists. ‘I want you to send a message to the stables. Have Morton come here. Now.’
‘My lord?’
‘I want him to go to Royal Crescent as soon as maybe.’
‘Sir, if I may be so bold, if the lady is reluctant...’ Under his master’s frowning gaze the valet shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other, finally saying in a rush, ‘It’s not like you, sir, to pursue a woman if she ain’t willing.’
Jasper shook his head.
‘Willing be damned. That has nothing to do with it. Miss Prentess said she was going out this morning. I want to know where she is bound. I’ll find out what her secret is if I have to tear Bath apart!’
* * *
By nine o’clock the viscount was washed and dressed in his green riding coat and buckskins. His heavy caped driving coat was thrown over a chair and his hat and gloves rested on the table in readiness. He strode impatiently up and down the sitting room, stopping occasionally to look out of the window, where large feathery flakes of snow could be seen floating down. At last he heard a hasty footstep approaching. Morton entered upon the knock.
‘Well?’ Jasper barked out the word.
‘I saw the carriage setting off, my lord, and followed it, as you ordered. It went as far as a house just this side of Priston. On the Wells Road.’
‘And you can find it again?’ demanded Jasper, shrugging himself into his driving coat.
‘Aye, my lord. The curricle is at the door now, but the weather’s turning bad. The snow is beginning to settle.’
‘Then the sooner we get started the better.’
* * *
The horses were fresh and Jasper had to concentrate to keep them in check as they trotted through the quiet streets. It was early yet, and the snow was keeping all but the very hardy indoors. Once they had crossed the bridge and were settled upon the Wells Road he gave them their heads and they rattled along at a cracking pace. It was snowing heavily now, coating the ground and hedges and making it difficult to see far ahead. Beside him, Morton hunched down into his coat and muttered occasionally about the folly of travelling in such weather. Jasper was beginning to agree with him and was contemplating abandoning his journey when the snow eased and the dense cloud lifted a little.
‘There, we shall go on easily now.’
‘Aye, my lord, ‘til the weather sets in again,’ retorted Morton with all the familiarity of an old and trusted retainer. ‘I mislike the look of that sky. If you was to ask me we should turn back now.’
Jasper looked up. The grey, sullen clouds matched his mood exactly.
‘Well I am not asking you,’ he snapped ‘You applied goose-fat to the horses’ feet, didn’t you, to prevent the snow from balling? So we should be good for a few hours yet. We shall turn back once I have discovered Miss Prentess’s secret and not before.’
The journey had done much to cool Jasper’s temper but nothing to quell his determination to find out what could persuade Susannah to drive out on such a morning. This had nothing to do with Gerald, it was purely for his own satisfaction. His wrists were still sore from that silk rope, but he was not a vindictive man, he bore her no grudge for that... Well, not much of a grudge. The woman intrigued him. She had rejected him, and he was not used to that. On the contrary most women were only too willing to accept his advances.
When he and his twin had entered society as young men they had the advantages of being wealthy and handsome. The ladies had literally fallen at their feet and they had learned to take such adulation as their due. They had flirted outrageously and become known as the dark and notorious Coale twins. Now, Jasper had the added advantage of a title. He had never had to fight for a woman in his life. He had only to cast his discerning eye upon a female and in most cases she would fall eagerly into his arms. If a lady showed any reluctance then he shrugged and moved on. No rancour, no regret.
He wondered if he had become too complacent, arrogant, even, where women were concerned. He had never had to work for their good opinion, merely taken it for granted. He had always assumed that when he eventually fell in love the lady would feel the same and it had come as something of a shock three years ago when he had proposed to Zelah Pentewan and been refused. However, she was head over heels in love with his twin and he could understand that, only berating himself for not discovering the state of the lady’s affections before offering her his hand.
Zelah had taught him a salutary lesson and Jasper had been content to leave his heart behind when he returned to town to continue his bachelor lifestyle. The women in London were as eager as ever for his attentions, but somehow the attraction of such a carefree life had palled. Perhaps it was seeing his twin so happily married, but for the past three years Jasper had felt a curious restlessness. He had hidden it well, continued to flirt with all the prettiest ladies, was the most obliging guest at any party, but knowing his heart to be safe at Rooks Tower with his sister-in-law he had never felt the least inclination to offer marriage to any one of the beautiful débutantes paraded before him, much to the
chagrin of their hopeful parents. Not one of them had made any impression upon him, had stirred him to make the least effort. Yet here he was, risking his precious team on snow-covered roads to pursue a woman who had made it abundantly clear that she did not want his attentions.
But this was nothing to do with the fact that she was a woman, and a very beautiful one at that. She had got the better of him, and that rankled. Lord, what an arrogant fool he had become!
‘Beggin’ yer pardon, m’lord, I don’t see there’s much to laugh at,’ grumbled Morton, sinking his chin deeper into his muffler.
‘I am laughing at myself,’ Jasper told him, still grinning.
‘You’ll be laughing yerself into the parson’s mousetrap if you ain’t very careful.’
‘What?’ Jasper’s head whipped round and he stared at his groom. ‘I have no interest in the woman in that way. Marriage to such a virago? Good God, I can think of nothing worse.’
‘Seems to me you are putting yerself out a great deal over her.’
‘Fustian! It’s just that there is something smoky about Miss Prentess, and I am determined to find out what it is.’
Jasper gave his attention to his driving. Perhaps he was being foolish. He could have paid someone to find out everything about the woman and saved himself the trouble.
‘Turning’s up here, sir,’ said the groom. ‘On the right.’
And if this outing did not solve the mystery that is what he would do, he decided as he turned into a narrow lane,
The snow lay inches deep and unbroken through the lane. Jasper proceeded cautiously. There could be deep ruts beneath the snow, waiting to catch the unwary. The track was descending into a wooded valley and the groom pointed out their destination on the far side. Jasper slowed and peered through the trees at the collection of buildings.
‘It looks like a gentleman’s house, my lord. What will they say to us turning up uninvited?’
‘I shall use the weather as my excuse.’ Jasper gave a little flick of the whip to move the team on.
* * *
Ten minutes later they drew up in front of the house. No one came out to greet them and apart from the smoke spiralling up from a couple of the chimneys there was no sign of life. Jasper jumped down and went to the door. The weathered oak panels shook as he forcefully applied the knocker. A biting wind had sprung up and when a flustered housemaid opened the door he immediately stepped into the hall.
‘Good day,’ he said pleasantly. ‘Pray tell your master or mistress that—’
He got no further. Standing in a doorway at the far end of the hall, and holding a baby in her arms, was Susannah.