Behind the Rake's Wicked Wager. Sarah Mallory
is more likely to value his freedom!’ She tucked her hand in his arm. ‘If you will excuse us, Sir Arthur, Lady Andrews, I must carry the viscount away now to speak to my sister before she leaves us …’
‘I commend your quick thinking,’ he murmured as they crossed the hall.
‘I had to do something,’ she responded quietly. ‘I did not want you to snub them for their impertinence. They are good people, and mean well.’
‘Mean well—!’ He smothered an exclamation and after a moment continued, ‘I beg your pardon, but it seems these days the whole world is eager to marry me off. I cannot look at a woman without her family hearing wedding bells.’
She chuckled. ‘Surely it has always been thus. ’Tis merely that you are more aware of it now.’
‘Perhaps you are right. I thought by leaving London I should have some respite from the incessant gossip and conjecture.’
Zelah gave a soft laugh and squeezed his arm.
‘You are nigh on thirty years old, my lord. Society considers it time you settled down and produced an heir.’
‘Society can go hang. I will not marry without love, and you know you are the only woman—’
Zelah stopped. ‘Hush, Jasper, someone may hear you.’
‘What if they do?’ He smiled down at her. ‘Dominic knows you refused me, it matters not what anyone else thinks.’
Zelah shook her head at him, trying to joke him out of his uncharacteristic seriousness.
‘For shame, my lord, what of your reputation as the wicked flirt no woman can resist? It would be sadly dented if word got out that you had been rejected.’
He looked down at her, wondering how it was that of all the women he had met, the only one he had ever wanted to marry should prefer his twin.
‘So it would,’ he said, raising her fingers to his lips. ‘Then let it be our secret, that you are the woman who broke my heart.’
Zelah blushed and shook her head at him.
‘Fie, Jasper, I may have bruised your heart a little, but it is not broken, I am sure. I am not the woman for you. I believe there is another, somewhere, far more suited to you, my lord.’
‘Well, I have not found her yet, and it is not for want of looking,’ he quipped lightly.
‘Mayhap love will come upon you when you least expect it,’ she responded. ‘As it did with me and Dominic.’
Jasper’s heart clenched at the soft light that shone in her eyes when she spoke of his brother. It tightened even more as he observed her delighted smile at the sound of her husband’s voice.
‘What is this, sir, dallying with my wife again?’
She turned, in no way discomposed at being discovered tête-à-tête with the irresistible viscount, but that was because she knew herself innocent of any impropriety. She had never succumbed to his charms, thought Jasper, with a rueful inward smile. That had always been part of the attraction. She held out her hand to her husband.
Marriage suited Dominic. The damaged soldier who had returned from the Peninsula, barely alive, was now a contented family man and respected landowner, the horrific scars on his face and body lessened by the constant application of the salves and soothing balms Zelah prepared for him.
‘Lady Andrews has been telling Jasper it is time he married,’ said Zelah, her laughing glance flicking between them.
‘Aye, so it is,’ growled Dominic, the smile in his hard eyes belying his gruff tone. ‘Put the female population out of its misery. My friends in town tell me at least three more silly chits sank into a decline when you left London at the end of the Season.’
Jasper spread his hands. ‘If they wish to flirt with me, Dom, who am I to say them nay? As for marriage, I have no plans to settle down yet.’
‘Well, you should,’ retorted his twin bluntly. ‘You need an heir. I do not want the title. I am happy enough here at Rooks Tower.’ His arm slid around Zelah and he pulled her close. ‘Come, love. Your sister is about to set off for West Barton and wishes to take her leave of you.’
‘Ah, yes, we were on our way to say goodbye to Maria and Reginald, and little Nicky, too. I doubt we shall see my nephew again before he goes off to school in Exeter.’ She sighed. ‘We shall miss him dreadfully, shall we not, Dom?’
‘Little Nicky is now a strapping eleven-year-old and so full of mischief he is in serious danger of being throttled by my gamekeeper,’ retorted her fond husband.
‘Ripe and ready for a spree, is he?’ Jasper grinned, remembering his own boyhood, shared with his twin. ‘Then by all means pack him off to school.’
He allowed Zelah to take his arm again.
‘So you intend to leave us tomorrow,’ she remarked as they walked towards the yellow salon. ‘Back to London?’
‘No, Bristol. To Hotwells.’
‘Hotwells?’ Dominic gave a bark of laughter. ‘Never tell me you are going to visit Gloriana Barnabus.’
‘I am indeed,’ replied Jasper. ‘I had a letter from her before Christmas, begging me to call upon her.’
‘What a splendid name,’ declared Zelah. ‘Is she as colourful as she sounds?’
‘No,’ growled Dominic. ‘She is some sort of distant cousin, a fading widow who enjoys the poorest of health. Did she say why she is so anxious to see you after all these years?’
‘Not a word, though I suspect it is to do with her son Gerald. Probably wants me to sponsor his entry into Parliament, or some such.’
Dominic shrugged as he stood back for his twin and his wife to enter the yellow salon.
‘Well, dancing attendance upon Gloriana will keep you out of mischief for a while.’
Zelah cast a considering glance up at her brother-in-law.
‘I am not so sure, my love. With that handsome face and his wicked charm, I fear Lord Markham will get into mischief anywhere!’
Jasper set off from Rooks Tower the following morning, driving himself in his curricle with only his groom beside him and his trunk securely strapped behind. Dominic and Zelah were there to see him off, looking the picture of domestic felicity. He did not begrudge his twin his happiness, but despite Zelah’s words he could not believe he would ever be so fortunate. He had met so many women, flirted with hundreds, but not one save Zelah had ever touched his heart. With a sigh he settled himself more comfortably in the seat and concentrated on the winding road. He would have to marry at some point and provide an heir, but not yet, not yet.
Miss Susannah Prentess wandered into the morning room of her Bath residence to find her aunt sitting at a small gilded table whose top was littered with papers. She had a pen in hand and was currently engaged in adding up a column of figures, so she did not look up when her niece addressed her.
‘How much did we make last night, ma’am?’ Mrs Wilby finished her calculations and wrote a neat tally at the bottom of the sheet before replying.
‘Almost two hundred pounds, and once we have taken off the costs, supper, candles and the like, I think we shall clear one-fifty easily. Very satisfying, when one thinks it is not yet March.’
Susannah regarded her with admiration.
‘How glad I am you discovered a talent for business, Aunt Maude.’
A blush tinted Mrs Wilby’s faded cheek.
‘Nonsense, it is merely common sense and a grasp of figures, my love, something which you have inherited, also.’
‘And thank goodness for that. It certainly helps when it comes to fleecing our guests.’