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The Secret Marriage Pact
Georgie Lee
An improper proposal!Jane Rathbone is used to being left behind and no longer believes she deserves happiness. But when childhood friend Jasper Charton returns from the Americas, more dangerously sexy than ever, she has a proposition. She’ll give him the property he needs if he’ll give her a new future—by marrying her!Jasper never imagined taking a wife, but wonders if loyal Jane could be his redemption. And when their marriage brings tantalising pleasures, convenient vows blossom into a connection that could heal them both…


An improper proposal!
Jane Rathbone is used to being left behind, and no longer believes she deserves happiness. But when childhood friend Jasper Charton returns from the Americas, more dangerously sexy than ever, she has a proposition. She’ll give him the property he needs if he’ll give her a new future—by marrying her!
Jasper never imagined taking a wife, but wonders if loyal Jane could be his redemption. And when their marriage brings tantalizing pleasures, convenient vows blossom into a connection that could heal them both...
‘I must hide.’ Jane rushed to the large wardrobe in the corner, then stopped.
She glanced back and forth between Jasper and the door.
‘If Philip catches me in here he might force us to wed.’
Jasper stopped tucking in his shirt. She didn’t know her brother very well if she thought he would force her into marriage, even after finding her in a compromising situation, but he couldn’t take the chance.
He strode up to her, pulled the shirt over his head and flung it away. ‘I think not.’
He took her by the arm and pulled her against him. She let out a startled squeak as she hit his chest.
‘What are you doing?’ Her fingertips pressed into his flesh, jarring him as much as her.
‘Jane, open this door at once,’ her brother demanded, and the brass knob began to turn.
‘Making sure he sees me as an unsuitable suitor.’ He pressed his lips to hers as the door swung open.
Author Note (#u6afa55a0-e29c-5d48-9cca-01a390f3b7e9)
When I wrote A Debt Paid in Marriage I had a lot of fun creating Jane. In many ways she is as serious and severe as her brother, Philip Rathbone, but with a naive confidence and a rebellious streak. They are wonderful characteristics that both help her and, at other times, create a number of difficulties. I enjoyed exploring how her old friend—and new husband—Jasper allows her to develop and overcome both these aspects of her personality.
Jane was a familiar character to me, but Jasper was a new surprise. This is the first friends-to-lovers marriage of convenience story that I have written. It was a treat to create Jasper and Jane’s close childhood friendship, to explore the pain and troubles of their eight-year separation and how, despite the passing of time, they still remain close. Jasper sees Jane in a way she cannot view herself, and she does the same for him. Through their relationship they both get a second chance—not only at love but at life. I hope you enjoy this return to the characters from A Debt Paid in Marriage, and if you are new to the Rathbone family I hope you enjoy this story and get a chance to read where it all began.
The Secret Marriage Pact
Georgie Lee


www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
A lifelong history buff, GEORGIE LEE hasn’t given up hope that she will one day inherit a title and a manor house. Until then she fulfils her dreams of lords, ladies and a Season in London through her stories. When not writing, she can be found reading non-fiction history or watching any film with a costume and an accent. Please visit georgie-lee.com to learn more about Georgie and her books.
Books by Georgie Lee
Mills & Boon Historical Romance
The Business of Marriage
A Debt Paid in Marriage
A Too Convenient Marriage
The Secret Marriage Pact
The Governess Tales
The Cinderella Governess
Scandal and Disgrace
Rescued from Ruin
Miss Marianne’s Disgrace
Stand-Alone Novels
Engagement of Convenience
The Courtesan’s Book of Secrets
The Captain’s Frozen Dream
Visit the Author Profile page at millsandboon.co.uk (http://millsandboon.co.uk).
For Nicola Caws in thanks for valuable guidance and insight into my stories.
Contents
Cover (#u53257845-2375-5ba2-8085-8f6e6f74b280)
Back Cover Text (#u414ca847-0964-5da5-9657-1c5a31fe7a92)
Introduction (#ufbfae30e-b8b0-5342-993d-d1e5af5df1ac)
Author Note (#u38cb0935-a356-551f-9522-27835d0d30e4)
Title Page (#u89d0cba1-164f-59f8-80f8-a71a5049dab5)
About the Author (#ub0e17702-a17b-5ccf-8f19-44879eeacea5)
Dedication (#uf63c6008-3a59-5cff-a192-fa6ffb1ca55e)
Chapter One (#u543a897c-bff6-5d6d-87ba-561d67a2fc17)
Chapter Two (#u02020d64-c1d4-55bb-87eb-45dd82e87b54)
Chapter Three (#u835b3e5f-2a86-53fb-bda5-af4e5ce50a8d)
Chapter Four (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One (#u6afa55a0-e29c-5d48-9cca-01a390f3b7e9)
London—1825
The rat! What’s he doing here? Jane Rathbone balled her hands into tight fists at her sides. She stared across the auction house at her one-time fiancé, Milton Charton. Camille, his plain and meek wife, was nowhere to be seen.
‘The bidding for the Fleet Street building, a former tobacconist’s shop and residence, will now commence,’ the auctioneer announced. ‘Do I have an opening bid?’
Milton raised his hand.
Revenge curled inside Jane. If he wanted the building, she’d make sure he didn’t get it. She flung her hand in the air, upping the price and drawing the entire room’s attention, including Milton’s. The businessmen narrowed their eyes at her in disapproval, but Milton’s eyes opened wide before his gaze shifted, she hoped guiltily, back to the auctioneer.
‘What are you doing?’ Justin Connor whispered from beside her, more amused than censorious. He was here with Jane’s brother, Philip Rathbone, who intended to obtain a warehouse near the Thames. Jane had accompanied them because she’d had nothing better to do.
‘I’m bidding on a building,’ she answered as if she were purchasing a new bonnet. Thankfully, Philip had gone off to speak with an associate, preventing him from interfering with her spontaneous plan. Since she’d reached her majority last year, he no longer controlled her inheritance but it didn’t mean he couldn’t interfere in her management of it. With him occupied, she could spend her money how she pleased and she pleased to spend it on a building.
‘I assume your sudden interest in acquiring property has nothing to do with Milton Charton,’ Justin observed with a wry smile.
‘It has everything to do with him.’ She didn’t care if she was buying a house of ill repute or what Philip thought about her little venture when he finally returned. Milton would not win the auction.
‘Then by all means, don’t let me stop you.’ Justin waved toward the wiry man with the pince-nez perched on his nose who called for a higher price. Across the room, Milton raised his hand again and Jane was quick to follow, driving up the bid and making her old beau purse his lips in frustration. She’d once found the gesture endearing. It disgusted her today.
Milton’s hand went up again and Jane responded in kind, pretending to be oblivious to the disapproving looks of the other male bidders. She ignored them, as she did their sons when they sneered at her bold opinions, or when their wives and daughters had whispered about her after Milton’s surprise marriage to Camille Moseley.
The auctioneer continued to call for bids until the other interested parties dropped off, leaving only her and Milton. Except this time Milton hesitated before he raised his hand.
I almost have him. Jane suppressed a smile of triumph as she raised her hand without hesitation. Milton didn’t have the means to compete with her, or his father’s astute investment sense. Thanks to her inheritance, she possessed the money, and with her business acumen she’d find a way to profit from the building. It was a pity people were against the idea of a single young lady doing it. If they weren’t, she might become a force to be reckoned with in the Fleet like her brother. As it was, she was simply a spinster aunt. Oh, how she despised Milton.
Jane raised the bid three more times as Milton became less sure about the price he was willing to pay to acquire it until he finally failed to counter her.
‘Going once,’ the auctioneer called.
Milton tugged at his limp cravat and shifted in his cheap boots, but he didn’t answer.
I’ve won.
‘Going twice.’
Milton frowned at her, but she held her head up high in triumph. He deserved to be embarrassed in front of his associates just as he’d humiliated her in front of all their friends.
‘Sold, to Miss Rathbone.’ The gavel came down, sending a shockwave of critical rumbles through the gentleman before they turned their attention to the next item on the block. They respected Philip too much to say anything openly to her, but it wouldn’t stop them from thinking her odd. She no longer cared. With no husband or house of her own, the building would give her some much-needed purpose and a future.
Justin tipped his hat to her. ‘Congratulations on your victory. Shall we go and collect your prize?’ He motioned to the payment table. They would have to pass Milton to reach it.
‘Yes, let’s.’
She allowed her brother’s old friend to escort her across the room, not only to rub Milton’s nose in her victory, but to secure the property before Philip returned. She didn’t want him to find a way to stop the purchase from going through. He wouldn’t approve of an expenditure based solely on revenge. He preferred rationally motivated investments. So did Jane, except for today.
She fixed on Milton as she approached him, daring him to meet her gaze, and he didn’t answer it until she was nearly on top of him. Better sense advised her to continue past him, but she wanted to dig the knife in a little deeper.
‘Thank you for the rousing bidding war, Mr Charton.’ She was determined he experience some of the humiliation she’d endured when he’d all but left her at the altar two years ago. ‘I hadn’t intended to buy a former tobacconist’s shop today, but I’m quite delighted now I have it and you don’t.’
Milton’s dough-faced shock changed to one of gloating she wanted to smack from his full cheeks. ‘The building wasn’t for me. It was for Jasper.’
‘Jasper?’ Her heart began to race with an elation she hadn’t experienced in years. ‘But he’s in America.’
He’d left, like so many other people in her life. He wasn’t supposed to return.
‘Not any more.’
‘Did we get it?’ The voice from her childhood drifted over her shoulder, bringing with it memories she’d long forgotten. She was gripped by the thrill of running with Jasper through the Fleet when they were children, of turning pennies into pounds with their schemes and eavesdropping on his older sisters at parties. With the memories came the hope in every wish she’d made for him to come back or to send her word he’d changed his mind about their future together. The letter had never come.
Jane fingered the beading on her reticule, ready to walk away instead of facing Jasper and having her cherished memories of him ruined the way Milton had crushed his. A long time ago, the three of them had been so close. Heaven knew what Jasper must think of her now, especially if Milton had been filling his ears with stories. She didn’t want to see the same oily regard in Milton’s eyes echoed in Jasper’s.
No, Jasper is nothing like Milton, she tried to tell herself before the old fears blotted out her reason. Then why did he never write to me? Because I scared him off the way I’ve scared off every other man since.
Stop it, she commanded herself. She wouldn’t allow either the Charton brothers or her own awkwardness to get the better of her; she would be sensible, as always. It was only a childish infatuation anyway.
Jane took a deep breath and turned, determined to face her past, all of it, except it wasn’t the past smiling down at her, but the present. The lanky fifteen-year-old she’d parted from nine years ago was a man, and taller and sturdier than his brother Milton, who was one year older. During the time he’d spent in America learning the cotton trade from his uncle, his jaw had widened, carving out the angles of his cheeks and filling in the awkward gangliness she used to tease him about. He’d grown so tall she had to step back to see his face and the light brown hair mixed with blonde streaks. He wore a well-tailored coat of fine, dark wool with subtle black-velvet accents on the collar and cuffs. It was offset by the deep blue waistcoat hugging his trim middle. Savannah had added elegance to his masculine frame.
‘Mr Charton, welcome home. I never thought you’d return.’ She struggled to hold her voice steady despite the excitement making her want to bounce on her feet.
‘Neither did I.’ He took off his fine beaver hat to bow to her, revealing the slight wave of his hair across his forehead and the genuine delight illuminating his hazel eyes. Whatever Milton had told him, it hadn’t poisoned Jasper against her. ‘It’s wonderful to see you. I’ve been looking forward to it. I didn’t expect it to be here.’
He wanted to see me again. It was a far cry from the boy who’d told her not to wait for him after she’d finally summoned up the nerve to admit she craved more than friendship. She flicked a bead on her reticule before she eased her tight grip on the silk. Despite the awkwardness of their last meeting, he was here, as inviting as when he used to fetch her for another adventure. Perhaps I did mean something to him.
She moved to speak when Milton’s bitter words interrupted them like clattering cutlery at a party.
‘She bought the building.’
Jane struggled to hold her smile while Jasper’s tightened about the edges. It sucked the thrill out of Jane’s triumph and their unexpected reunion. She flicked the bead so hard it cracked, cursing Milton and her misguided impetuousness. It was Milton she’d wanted to hurt, not Jasper.
‘Congratulations on your acquisition,’ Jasper graciously conceded. ‘You’ve always had your brother’s talent for transactions. I’m sure you’ll put the building to good use.’
‘I’m sure I will.’ She buttressed her confidence against the shame undermining her as powerfully now as the morning Mr and Mrs Charton had told her of Milton’s elopement and apologised for their eldest son’s behaviour. ‘If you’ll excuse me, I must settle my account.’
‘Of course.’ Jasper tipped his hat to her and stepped aside. ‘I look forward to seeing you again, Jane.’
Her name on his lips sounded as natural as rain on a roof. She raised her eyes to his, catching the old mischief brightening the dark irises. It brought an impish smile to her lips. This was the Jasper she’d cherished, and he blotted out all memory of the one who’d forgotten her after he’d sailed away.
‘I look forward to seeing you again too, Jasper.’ When she did, it wouldn’t involve scampering in the Rathbone garden, but she was sure, and she couldn’t say why, it would be fun.
* * *
The heady scent of Jane’s gardenia perfume continued to surround Jasper as she walked away with Mr Connor. Jasper had expected a great many things today, but seeing Jane hadn’t been one of them. It was almost worth losing the building to hear her speak, the faint lisp she’d had as a child gone, her voice a tone closer to smooth velvet. Her posture had changed too, the stiffness of her movements having gained a more graceful and fluid charm. He’d caught the spark of pride lifting her chin when he’d complimented her on her business sense. In the brief exchange, it was as if nine years hadn’t passed, but it had, turning her from a young lady into a woman who commanded his attention even from across the room.
‘You lost the building to that arrogant chit because you weren’t here,’ Milton spat.
Jasper’s elation snapped like dry hay. ‘I was held up.’ He’d slept later than intended, exhausted from another long night and the effort of maintaining the façade necessary to hide his nocturnal activities from his family. ‘And watch how you speak of her. You were the one who betrayed her like a coward. No wonder she bid against you.’
‘You always did side with her against me.’ Milton curled his lip in irritation, not having the decency to be ashamed of what he’d done.
Jasper frowned. It wasn’t only Jane who’d changed while he’d been gone. He’d looked forward to his reunion with Milton when he’d disembarked at Portsmouth, eager to unburden himself of the anguish and torment he’d experienced in Savannah during the yellow fever epidemic, but Milton wasn’t fit to be a confidant. If he told his brother the truth about Savannah, and London, Milton would use it against him when it served his purposes, or simply out of spite. He wouldn’t keep Jasper’s secrets the way he had when they were young, the shared knowledge binding them together as much as the closeness of their ages. Jasper didn’t know what he’d done to earn his elder brother’s dislike and he barely recognised the one person he’d been closest to as a child, with the exception of Jane.
He spied her across the room where she bent over the payment table to sign the purchase register. He couldn’t see her face, only the elegant curve of her hand on the pen and the fall of her red cotton dress over the roundness of her buttocks. For a moment he regretted never having written to her while he was away. He could have used her friendship, especially after Uncle Patrick had accused Jasper of driving him to his deathbed while Yellow Jack had stormed through Savannah.
Jasper studied the flimsy printed auction list, shoving the guilt aside as he searched for another available property to fit his needs. There was nothing. Damn. The building Milton had lost was perfectly situated on Fleet Street and would have been Jasper’s best chance for creating a more respectable establishment than his current one.
‘If she were a proper lady she wouldn’t even be here.’ Milton flicked a piece of fluff off the arm of his poorly tailored wool coat. ‘And if she’d acted more like a proper lady I might have married her.’
Jasper crushed the thin catalogue between his hands, wanting to thrash his brother with it. ‘You’re a fool, Milton, and growing older has only made it worse.’
‘What’s it done for you except bring you back with some tat you’ve been fortunate enough to sell despite the smell of plague clinging to it?’
Jasper stepped toe to toe with his brother. ‘Shut your mouth before I knock your teeth out.’
Milton’s smugness drooped like his backbone. Jasper threw the catalogue at his feet and strode off, done with him and the auction. His day and all his plans lay in tatters because of his brother and Jasper’s own stupid mistakes.
He strode to the wide entrance door where men continued to stream in and out to examine the auction items. He paused on the threshold to take in the street, the stench of dust and filth making him cough. An open-topped caleche passed by filled with ladies smiling and laughing together, their lives like everyone else’s carrying on in the bright sunlight illuminating the street. He should be glad for the activity after the deathly silence of Savannah and heartened to see not every world had collapsed, but after so much death it was difficult to do. Few here understood what he’d been through. Milton certainly didn’t.
How dare he sneer at the epidemic. The pampered prat didn’t know what it was like to be stalked by death, to have all his money mean nothing because no amount of it could buy food to stave off the gnawing hunger or save those you loved from being carried off. No one around him did, except those unlucky enough to have witnessed it in other places, or those poor souls confined to the deepest slums of St Giles and Seven Dials.
A dark mood threatened to consume him when a flash of red caught his eye. The Rathbone landau rolled past the auction house, the hood open to take advantage of the fine day. Jane sat across from her brother, her profile sharp as she spoke with him, hands moving with her agitation. The dark brown curls beneath the red ribbon that held the bonnet in place bounced in time to the carriage’s pace. It mesmerised him as much as her full lips. She didn’t notice Jasper, but he couldn’t pull his attention away from her. Seeing her again had been like stepping though the door of his parents’ house after nine years in America and inhaling the familiar scent of cinnamon and brandy, the smell of his childhood.
He watched her until the vehicle rolled down the street and was finally lost in the crush of traffic. Isolation swathed him when she vanished from sight. Gone was the young girl who used to scamper with him and Milton, her surety in herself and her ideas eternally exasperating her brother and Jasper’s parents. Gone, too, was the boy Jasper had been. An ocean of experience and deception separated him from everyone he’d ever known. Yet in his brief moment with Jane, he’d touched something of the innocent young man he’d once been. He wondered, if he sat with her a while, could he be carefree and blameless again? It wasn’t possible. He couldn’t weigh her down with the awfulness of his past or his present deceits.
He started down the auction-house steps and made for the jeweller across the street, ready to pay a pound or two for a fine walking stick or something equally expensive. His soul might be in the gutter. It didn’t mean the rest of him needed to wallow there too. He’d escaped death. Now he’d make sure he enjoyed life again.
* * *
‘Mrs Townsend and I trained you to handle your affairs better than this, Jane.’ Philip chided from across the landau before he turned to Justin. ‘You should’ve stopped her.’
‘She’s not my sister.’ Justin threw up his hands in protest. ‘Besides, she’d old enough to decide what to do with her money.’
‘On that point, we disagree.’
‘He’s right. It’s my inheritance and I’ll spend it as I see fit,’ Jane insisted.
Philip didn’t answer, refusing to be baited into the fight Jane was aching for. Despite gaining control over her money there’d been little she’d been able to do with it except pay the milliner’s bill. Seeing Jasper today had reminded her of the few clever transactions she and the Charton boys had hustled as children. The experiences had given her a taste for commerce, but as her dresses had become longer her world had reduced in size until it nearly choked her. Jasper’s world had expanded and, judging by his fine clothes, he’d done well for himself in America. It made her wonder why he’d decided to return. ‘You knew Jasper Charton was home, didn’t you?’
Philip’s jaw tightened, almost imperceptibly, but she caught it. It was one of his few tells. To her surprise, he didn’t deny her accusation. ‘Yes.’
‘Why didn’t you or the Chartons tell me?’ It wasn’t like the Chartons not to fête a family member, especially one who’d been gone for so long and endured so much.
‘Mr Charton asked me not to. Jasper had a difficult time in Savannah and needed a chance to recover. He was very ill when he came home.’
‘I’m sure he was.’ Mrs Charton had shared news of the yellow fever which had ravaged the port city. Jane had worried along with her over Jasper, as eager as his mother was for the letter telling them things were all right. She might not have heard from Jasper for nine years, but it didn’t mean she’d stopped caring about him. Waiting with Mrs Charton had felt too much like when she was six and her own mother had been stricken with the fever. The long days had passed as she’d prayed, hoped and bargained with the Almighty to make her mother better. He hadn’t listened and her mother had passed, and it’d been all her fault. ‘Why did Jasper come back?’
‘His cotton-trading business collapsed after the epidemic. He plans to use the money his uncle left him, and the capital he raised from the sale of his Savannah properties and goods, to establish a new business in London. Jasper needs the Fleet Street building you purchased and the opportunity it offers. Since you don’t, we’ll visit the Chartons tomorrow and you’ll offer to sell it to him.’
‘I’ll do no such thing. I’ll start my own endeavour with it.’
Philip flexed his fingers over the handle of his walking stick. ‘Be sensible, Jane.’
‘I am being sensible. I need something more to do than tend the rose garden and listen to my niece and nephews tear through the house.’
‘And I’ve given you ample opportunities to do so.’
‘Yes, always behind you and your reputation, never out in the open where everyone can see it’s me successfully managing things.’
‘As well as the merchants of the Fleet regard our family, they won’t countenance a single young woman in trade. It would damage both your reputation and mine and hinder all our future dealings.’
She twisted her reticule between her hands, the deed to the building crinkling inside, before she let go. Philip was right. Customers and other merchants would recoil from her if she began openly to oversee some venture of her own. Jane dropped back against the squabs, cursing her unmarried state once again. ‘I hate it when you’re practical.’
‘It’s nothing but a headache when you aren’t.’
The landau carried them past the building she now owned in the middle of Fleet Street. The staid façade with its small Ionic columns reaching up to the first floor sat squat between two taller ones. A round outline of dirt above the front door indicated where the sign from the now-defunct tobacconist’s used to hang. She rested her arm on the landau’s edge and tapped the wood. The building was hers and, despite what Philip said, she would not relinquish it; she would use it to make something of her life and escape from this limbo of being an adult while being treated like a mindless child. She needed activity, industry of her own, or she would run mad. Now she needed to decide what she’d do, and how she’d do it, without drawing attention to herself or needing Philip’s help. Her brother might have her best interests at heart, but it didn’t mean she wanted him or anyone else deciding her path.
She glanced across the landau at Justin who chatted with Philip. Perhaps he could be her secret front. He might help her, if only because he thought it a lark, but with his wine business and the demands of his wife and family, she doubted he had time to dabble in any endeavour of hers.
There must be some man willing to be the front for a business. She continued to trill her fingers on the trim, mulling through the people she knew and not finding one likely to support her admittedly odd idea. No one had ever gone along with her schemes except at one time Milton, and Jasper.
Jasper.
Jane stilled her fingers. She could become a silent partner with him in whatever plans he had for the building. It would be a perfect arrangement—except for her having to hide her involvement from everyone, including Philip. However, being a silent partner was better than nothing at all, and she would only have to be silent in public.
Unless I can find a husband, and quickly.
She rolled her eyes at her own ridiculousness, wondering if she was going mad from boredom and how long it would be until she began collecting small dogs and refusing to leave the house. If landing a gentleman was as simple as selecting a stock, she’d be a wife by now. Besides, all her friends and acquaintances had taken every man worth having in the Fleet, except for Jasper.
‘Philip, did Jasper return with a wife?’ Jane asked, interrupting his and Justin’s conversation.
‘No. Why?’
She shrugged. ‘I was curious.’
Philip narrowed his eyes in scrutiny before Justin drew him back into conversation.
So Jasper isn’t married. She rested her elbow on the landau’s edge again and tapped her fingers against her chin. The vehicle vibrated beneath her arm as it crossed over the cobblestones. And he needs money and a building, and I have both. I wonder if he’d like a wife in the bargain, too.
She and Jasper had been friends once and friendship was an excellent basis for a marriage. After all, she’d tried affection with Milton and look where it had landed her. There was no reason not to try something more practical with Jasper. He might have rebuffed her advances nine years ago, but this wasn’t about romance. It was business. She could present her proposal in rational terms, appeal to his good sense and make him see how perfectly logical, reasonable and completely insane the idea was.
She dropped her forehead into her palm. I should buy a dog and be done with all pretence to sanity.
Even if she was foolhardy enough to approach Jasper with such an outlandish plan, he wasn’t likely to go along with it this time any more than he had before. Nor was she thrilled by the prospect of leaving Philip’s influence to surrender her fortune and all legal responsibility to a husband. However, she doubted Jasper would be difficult about it, especially if they came to an agreement beforehand on how she’d manage her affairs. She was certain they could, assuming their discussions even reached the negotiating stage and he didn’t turn her down outright. He probably would and she didn’t relish another Charton rejection. Two was quite enough.
The landau turned off noisy Fleet Street and on to quiet St Bride’s Lane. The steeple from St Bride’s Church cast a thick shadow over the houses facing it. Behind the high wall encircling the churchyard lay the graves of her parents. Failure whipped around her like the breeze. She’d failed her parents years ago, now she was failing them, and herself, again.
I won’t be a spinster.
Another rejection wasn’t an appealing prospect, but neither was the future stretching out in front of her like a dusty dirt road. With each passing year her prospects for making her own life were diminishing. Yes, Jasper might ridicule her for proposing this scheme, but if he accepted...
She sat up straight and tried not to shift in the seat. She’d have her freedom and a life, home and business of her own at last. It might not be the loving marriage like the one Philip and Laura enjoyed, or the grand passion she used to dream about while reading the scandalous books Mrs Townsend, her sister-in-law’s mother and Jane’s old mentor, tutor and confidant, used to slip her, but one could never be disappointed by something one had never expected. Besides, she didn’t need Jasper’s heart, only his hand in marriage.
Chapter Two (#u6afa55a0-e29c-5d48-9cca-01a390f3b7e9)
‘You’re undressed! Why are you not up already? It’s past noon!’ Jane waved her hand from the top of Jasper’s head to the rippled and exposed stomach, and the dark line of hair leading her gaze even lower. She was already out of breath from running up the Chartons’ massive front stairs, but catching Jasper in his bedroom without his shirt was suffocating. His toned chest tinged with a honey hint of a tan nearly knocked her away from the closed door. She’d known Jasper Charton and his family her entire life. But she never thought she’d see quite this much of him.
‘I wasn’t expecting company.’ Jasper wiped the last of the very musky and, if she was not mistaken by the scent, expensive shaving soap from his face and haphazardly hung the towel on the washstand bar. He made no move to take up the rumpled shirt sagging over the foot of the bed, and perched one fist on his hip as though it was every day an unmarried young lady burst into his bedroom unannounced. ‘What are you doing up here?’
‘We must speak about the building.’ She fiddled with the key in the lock of the door but her shaking hand wouldn’t co-operate and she gave up.
Concentrate! This was no time to be distracted. With her brother and Mr Charton downstairs, and Mrs Charton distracted by one of her grandchildren, Jane had precious little time alone with Jasper. ‘I have a plan for it, but I need your help, as a friend. We’re still friends, aren’t we?’
His eyebrows rose in surprise. ‘Even after what Milton did to you?’
‘You had nothing to do with it, and he isn’t pertinent to the matter I wish to discuss today.’ Actually, proving to everyone, including herself, she could catch a husband was very much a part of this, but he didn’t need to know it.
He cocked one eyebrow. ‘You want to talk business, in my room, alone?’
She picked up one of the pair of diamond cufflinks in the dish on the table beside her, then put it down. It did seem foolish when he pointed it out, but speaking here was better than trying to whisper downstairs and risking someone overhearing their negotiations. For this to work, everyone, including Philip, must believe they were marrying for the right reason. ‘Of course. We have privacy.’
‘Which makes me wonder if business is really all you want?’ With a wicked smile he slipped the top button of his fall through its hole. He was teasing her as he used to do and the easy familiarity of their old friendship slid between them. It was more potent than the pulling of her pigtails and she adjusted the top of her spencer, breathless once more as she stared at his long fingers on the button, waiting to see what he might reveal. Offering him her innocence wasn’t an unpleasant bargaining chip, especially since she was dying to finally experience the deed she’d heard Jasper’s sister whispering about at so many parties. If she got with child it would certainly force the matter.
When the fall slightly opened she snapped out of her stupor. This wasn’t how this was supposed to go. He wasn’t supposed to undress or suggest more than business, even if what she was about to propose involved exactly that. ‘Yes! Well, sort of.’
‘Sort of?’ He let go of the button, but failed to fasten the one he’d already undone. It revealed more of the dark hair leading from his navel to places unknown.
‘I have a building and you need one for your new enterprise. We can become...partners in your endeavour.’
The word ‘marriage’ twisted her tongue. She still couldn’t believe she was doing this. One would think she’d learned her lesson nine years ago. Apparently, she hadn’t.
‘Your brother won’t be happy about you wading so openly into business. Or being up here.’
‘I don’t care what Philip thinks and I wouldn’t be single when I share in the trade.’ Jane took a deep breath, the portion of the negotiation she’d spent the better part of the night and this morning contemplating, and dreading at last upon her. ‘I would be your wife.’
Jasper’s smug amusement dropped like the towel off the rail of his washstand. ‘My wife?’
‘It’s perfect, don’t you see?’ She hurried up to him, drawing close enough to feel the heat radiating off his skin. She took a cautious step back, acutely aware of how much taller and wider he’d grown since he’d left. She tried not to be distracted by the more intimate terms of marriage, but with the sunlight caressing the angles and sinew of his shoulders it was difficult. ‘You want the building and I want my freedom. There’s only one way for us to get both. We’ll get married.’
‘Married?’
‘We’ll work together to build up your whatever-it-is.’
‘A club for merchants.’
‘Excellent.’ She had no idea what that meant, but they could discuss the details later. ‘You’ve been gone from London for so long, you lack connections. My connections through Philip, combined with my keen managerial sense, the property I purchased—the one you wanted—along with your particular expertise in this kind of venture will make us quite a force. And you know how good I am with negotiation.’
He smothered a laugh. ‘Yes, I remember.’
But he wasn’t rushing to agree. The same tightness in the pit of her stomach as when she was thirteen and begging him to offer her some promise of a future together knotted her insides again. Anger began to creep along the edges of her confidence. ‘You remember what good friends we were, though you never troubled to write me a single letter the entire time you were in Savannah. Do you know how much I could’ve used your friendship, even from across the ocean?’ She winced at this slip. What in Heaven’s name was she thinking saying such a thing?
‘I do.’ Regret flickered in his eyes and he raised his hand as if to graze her cheek, the ruby on his small finger glinting in the sun before he lowered it again. ‘But marriage is different from children scampering through the Fleet in search of a shilling or eavesdropping on the adults.’
‘You sound like my brother.’ She crossed her arms in front of her. ‘And I’m perfectly aware of the seriousness of a union, which is why I think one based on friendship is the best kind. Don’t you agree?’
‘No.’ He didn’t even hesitate in his answer. ‘As much as I respect and admire you...’
‘Don’t.’ She held up one hand, humiliation clipping her words. ‘That’s the drivel your brother tried to placate me with when he returned from Scotland with his simpering wife. I expect better from you, Jasper.’
‘All right, you’ll have it.’ He dropped the lothario act and spoke to her as he had when he’d told her there could be nothing between them once he left for Georgia. ‘There are extenuating circumstances preventing me from marrying anyone, even an old and valuable friend.’
‘You’re already married?’ It wouldn’t surprise her. Everyone appeared capable of finding someone except her.
‘No.’
Well, this was a small relief. ‘Betrothed?’
‘No.’
‘Keeping a mistress?’
‘Of course not. Where did you get such an idea?’
She tilted her head in pride. ‘I’m not a complete innocent. I read novels and the newspapers.’
He stroked his smooth chin with one large hand. ‘And yet you are, aren’t you?’
‘If we married, I wouldn’t be, now would I?’
His eyes flashed the same way they had when she’d turned around to greet him yesterday. ‘No, I don’t suppose you would be.’
‘It’d be quite an honour for you.’ She lowered her head and peered up through her lashes at him, imitating the young ladies she usually scoffed at during parties. She felt like a fool doing it, but she was willing to try anything to persuade him, even the promise of something more carnal.
‘That’s one way to put it,’ he choked out through a laugh.
‘Then why are you objecting?’ She dropped the dewy-eyed pose, having expected him to respond with something other than humour. She was losing him as much now as when he’d set sail and she couldn’t. She was tired of being a failure and she wouldn’t fail at this. ‘You need me and you know it.’
‘Yes. I always have.’ A loss greater than their mere time together, one she’d experienced the day her mother had died, and in the many years since, filled his words. Whatever had happened in Savannah, it’d scarred him like her parents’ passing had damaged her. He did need her the way she needed him and for more than just a club.
‘Then why are you refusing me?’ she asked in a softer tone. It made no sense.
* * *
Voices from downstairs filtered up through the floorboards. He should insist she return to her brother, but he hesitated. She was offering him the building, her help in establishing a legitimate venture, and something his fifteen-year-old self would have sold his soul to acquire. But a wife? He was struggling to keep everyone out of his affairs, not searching for ways to draw someone deeper into them. Except this was Jane. If anyone could help him make a go of his club it was her, but he couldn’t ask her to share his secret and to deceive her family the way he was deceiving his. Nor could he risk her realising the terrible man he’d become in Savannah, not when she viewed him as an old friend still worthy of her affection.
The time ticked by on the ornate dolphin clock perched on the excessively gilded bedside table while he racked his brain for a delicate path out of this indelicate situation. He needed a reason why he was refusing her, one she wouldn’t try to logic her way around or hate him for saying.
‘Be honest with me, the way you used to be,’ she demanded.
I can’t be, with you or anyone. Nor could he wilfully hurt her. She’d taken a risk by approaching him and he admired her too much to treat her as poorly as his brother had. Despite his not having written to her while he was gone, she’d still believed in him and their mutual past enough to ask him for his future. If he told her even one of the real reasons behind his refusal, it would put her off him and this idea, and he wasn’t ready to pull himself down in her eyes.
There was a more subtle and less hurtful way to make her abandon this notion of marriage.
He stepped closer, affecting the smile he used to employ with agitated gamblers in Savannah, smooth, charming and convincing. ‘Because I’m not sure you could handle the level of honesty I’m prepared to offer you.’
‘What do you mean?’ She didn’t step back and he inhaled her flowery scent. It was lighter and more alluring than the cloying mixture she’d fancied at thirteen, the one which used to remind him of her whenever he inhaled it on a passing woman in Georgia. He might not have written to her after he’d sailed away, but she’d never really been far from his thoughts.
‘Your brother wouldn’t approve of the match.’
‘I’m past the age of needing his permission to marry.’ She waved her hand in dismissal, her fingertips grazing his chest before she pulled them back. Her faint touch raked him like a pitchfork. She must have felt it, too, because she clasped one hand in the other and nervousness softened the crease of irritation between her eyes.
‘You shouldn’t approve of me either.’ He pressed his palm against the wall behind her, all the while ignoring the curves indicating her maturity. He must convince her to forget him by giving her a reason to run from him, no matter how much he wanted to slip his arm around her waist and pull her closer. ‘You see, I don’t want to marry. I want to enter into a less formal arrangement.’
Her gaze slid along the firmness of his bicep beside her ear, then traced the line of it to his face. She frowned at him. ‘You want me for a mistress?’
Jasper swallowed hard to keep from laughing. Jane was nothing if not blunt and practical. She always had been, as well as headstrong and impetuous. It was a delightful combination of traits he still enjoyed and hated to drive away. ‘You could say that.’
He allowed the suggestion to linger between them as if it had been hers and not his. Jane’s lips parted in uncertainty, her full breasts hugged by the fitted yellow spencer rising as she drew in a long breath. He pressed his fingertip tighter into the wall, glad he hadn’t removed his breeches for fear he might embarrass himself as he imagined her agreeing to his idea. It’d be a disappointment to them both if she did. He’d done a lot of dishonourable things, but he would never ruin Jane by following through on his suggestion. However, the temptation in her blue eyes, the faint brush of her breath across his naked chest almost made him relent. He could lean down and claim her lips and at last learn what they tasted like, after considering it so many times when they’d both been young, curious, and for the first time aware of one another as more than friends. He moved his head a touch lower, wondering if the old curiosity, as opposed to a desire for a business, had really brought her here. Whatever her motives, it was time for her to leave before someone discovered she was up here.
‘Jane, are you in there?’ Mr Rathbone’s voice carried in from the hallway.
Jasper’s fingers stiffened against the wall. Too late.
‘How did Philip figure out I was in here?’ Jane ducked under his arm and began to pace in the centre of the room, revealing how much she did care about her brother’s opinion.
Jasper picked up his shirt and tugged it on. ‘The new maid must have seen you. The woman is a busybody.’
Jasper had been forced to slip past her to leave the house late at night numerous times. What she was doing up at those hours he’d never discovered, but he suspected it had something to do with his father’s brandy and if he could he would soon see the woman dismissed.
‘Jane. Are you in there?’ Mr Rathbone punctuated his question by pounding on the door.
‘I must hide.’ Jane rushed to the large wardrobe in the corner, then stopped. She glanced back and forth between Jasper and the door, the plotting narrowing of her eyes both familiar, and terrifying. ‘If Philip catches me in here, he might insist we wed.’
Jasper stopped tucking in his shirt. She didn’t know her brother very well if she thought he’d force her into a marriage, even after finding her in a compromising situation, but he couldn’t take the chance. He strode up to her, tugged the shirt over his head and flung it away. ‘I think not.’
He took her by the arm and pulled her against him. She let out a startled squeak as she hit his chest.
‘What are you doing?’ Her fingertips pressed into his flesh, jarring him as much as her.
‘Jane, open this door at once,’ Mr Rathbone demanded, and the brass knob began to turn.
‘Making sure he sees me as an unsuitable suitor.’ He pressed his lips to hers as the door swung open.
* * *
Jane barely heard her brother’s angry breaths or Justin Connor’s howl of laughter from the hallway. Jasper’s warm mouth on hers consumed her entire attention. It made her knees weak and she shivered as Jasper slid his tongue out to tease hers, his large hand against her back pressing her firmly into his bare chest. There could be an entire crowd watching them and she wouldn’t notice, all she wanted was for him to lay her on the bed, slide up her skirts and satisfy the ache making her almost moan. He didn’t so much as move a hand down to grasp her bottom, but broke from the kiss and leaned back. A shock as powerful as the one he’d sent hurtling through her coloured his own hazel eyes.
This was definitely not how she’d imagined this plan unfolding.
* * *
‘What the devil were you doing?’ Philip’s voice was so even it made Jane cringe. He hadn’t said a word to her during the entire carriage ride home. Not even Justin, who leaned against the French doors of Philip’s office watching them as if they were a theatrical performance, had dared to break the icy chill. Philip hadn’t spoken until they were settled in his office with Laura and all their past quarrels and disagreements beside him. Jane preferred the silence. It was less lethal.
‘I was trying to reach an agreement with Jasper about the building.’ She straightened the tortoiseshell comb in her hair, attempting to remain calm and level-headed, but with Jasper’s sandalwood scent still clinging to her spencer it was difficult. ‘He didn’t agree to my terms.’
‘It didn’t look like it when we stumbled in on you,’ Justin observed through a restrained laugh.
‘Don’t you have a wine shop to see to?’
‘This is much more fascinating.’
‘Justin, please.’ Philip rubbed his temples with his fingers, addressing Jane once again. ‘You decided to discuss the matter with Mr Charton alone, in his room, while he was undressed?’
‘It wasn’t my intention when I first went upstairs, at least not the portion where he was undressed.’
‘You shouldn’t have been up there at all.’ Philip dug his fingers harder into his temples while Laura and Justin exchanged amused looks. Not so Philip. He dropped his hands to the blotter and pinned her with a seriousness to still her heart. ‘You risked ruining your reputation and our relationship with the Chartons, and for what?’
My freedom, she wanted to cry, but she bit it back. He was right, again. With her ridiculous plan, she’d risked more than minor humiliation or the disapproving tsking of merchants and their wives. The Chartons were good enough friends to be discreet about the matter, but they weren’t a family renowned for keeping secrets. There were too many of them. It would only be a matter of time before someone heard of this and it would end whatever slim chance remained of her some day finding a husband.
‘Ever since Mrs Townsend married Dr Hale, you’ve been stubborn and wilful,’ Philip stated.
‘She hasn’t been so bad since my mother left,’ Laura said, trying to soothe him. Given Laura and Philip’s past, and the way she’d snared Philip by surprising him in his bath with a pistol when she and her mother had been on the verge of ruin nine years ago, she was the last to pass judgement on Jane’s behaviour.
‘No, she’s been worse than usual.’ Justin chortled.
Philip glanced at Justin who took the none-too-subtle hint for him to leave.
He winked encouragingly at Jane as he passed, but she couldn’t muster so much as a tight smile to reward his optimism. He would go home to his wife and children. When this was over, Jane would still be alone.
Laura remained behind, the pity in her eyes adding to Jane’s disquiet. She didn’t want to be pitied by anyone, for any reason. There’d been enough of that in the weeks after Milton’s betrayal and years ago after she’d lost her parents.
Philip rose and came around the desk to face her, his anger fading to brotherly concern. ‘What’s wrong, Jane? Tell me the truth and we’ll find a way to deal with it.’
She stared at the portrait of their parents hanging behind Philip’s desk, too ashamed to look at him. He’d guessed her plan today had involved more than a desire to be wilful, but she couldn’t explain to him the guilt and aching loneliness carving out her insides, and how it always grew stronger around the anniversary of their parents’ deaths. He would try to banish it with logic and reason. Jane had learned long ago certain notions couldn’t be dislodged with either. ‘I told you, I want industry of my own.’
‘But that’s not all of it, is it?’
In his tender voice there lingered the memory of him holding her the morning their mother had died only a week after their father had passed. She’d cried against his chest and followed him around for the next month, clinging to him because she’d been afraid he’d die, too. He’d never pushed her away, but had kept her by his side until the day she’d finally been brave enough to let him out of her sight and go play with Jasper. Even when she’d been thirteen and doing all she could to disobey him, he’d never failed to love her. He was the only one, and she was at last succeeding in driving him away, too.
She screwed her eyes shut and forced back the tears. Everyone she’d ever cared for—her father, her mother, Jasper, Milton, even Mrs Townsend—had all abandoned her and it was her fault. She hadn’t done enough to keep their affection, like she hadn’t behaved well enough to keep her mother from going away.
‘Perhaps we can discuss it,’ Laura offered.
Jane opened her eyes and took in the two of them standing side by side. It was meant to be a show of compassion, an attempt to reach out to her, but it only pushed Jane further inside herself. Their happy union drove home her growing isolation and how far down in importance she was to everyone.
‘There’s nothing to discuss.’ It would sound childish spoken aloud. There were many people who loved her, but each of them had their own lives while she hovered on the periphery, watching theirs unfold while hers was stuck like a coach in the mud. ‘I’d like to be alone now.’
If they didn’t leave, then all sorts of immature things might tumble out of her, along with tears.
Philip nodded, took Laura’s arm and escorted her from the room.
Jane stared out the French doors to the blooming roses in the garden, her mother’s roses. She struggled hard to remember her mother tending them, her old dress dusted with dark soil, oversized gloves covering her hands. If Jane closed her eyes she could just catch the faint scent of her mother’s lilac perfume above the wet earth, hear her melodious voice calling for Jane to bring her the spade. It was the only clear memory she had of her mother and she wasn’t sure if it was real or something she’d created, like the image of a happy life with Milton.
How much enjoyment will he derive from this little incident? It’d taken her ages to face everyone again after he’d eloped with Camille Moseley two weeks before their wedding. She didn’t relish having to endure more ridicule or proving to everyone he’d been smart to do it because she was nothing more than an obstinate hoyden. Philip was right—instead of making things better for herself, she’d once again made them worse.
Jane marched to the doors, threw them open and stepped outside. She stopped on the shaded portico to take in the sun-drenched garden. At the back was a high wall broken by a metal gate, separating the Rathbone garden from the alley and mews behind it. There’d been many family gatherings here, parties and celebrations, quiet moments, and one or two daring ones. It wasn’t a comforting sight, but a confining one.
No, this won’t be the extent of my life.
She stepped into the sunlight and allowed its warmth to spread across her face. Today might have been a disaster, but it was one of the first times in nine years that she’d been adventurous, and alive, and it was all due to Jasper. She craved more of what she’d experienced today, not the guilt and humiliation in Philip’s office, but the heady delight in Jasper’s embrace and the pleasure it’d ignited inside her. She stared at the pink rose bobbing on a bush in front of her. This was dangerous. Emotions weren’t supposed to play any part in this plan, yet they’d slipped in between them the way his tongue had between her lips.
She touched her mouth, remembering his wide-eyed amazement when they’d parted from the kiss, and his more pressing reaction lower down. Perhaps it was good he’d tried to dissuade her from the union by acting the rake. It’d stopped her from making more of a fool of herself with him, as she had at thirteen.
She flung her hands down to her side. No, this wasn’t about some silly girlish infatuation; it was about seizing a future and she must make him see it. Hurrying in to her brother’s desk, she snatched up the pen and set a blank sheet on the blotter. In swift strokes she told Jasper Philip was considering forcing him to make her an honourable woman and they must discuss it before he took action. She didn’t like lying to him, but it was the only way she could think of to tempt him here so she could overcome his objections. After all, he’d said he needed her and he did, as much as she needed him.
* * *
‘What the hell were you two doing?’ Jasper’s father blustered while his mother sat embroidering, as sensible and calm as her husband was agitated.
‘Discussing business,’ Jasper answered in all seriousness. He slipped his hand inside his coat pocket and fingered the letter which had been delivered a short time ago. He had to admire Jane’s tenacity; she was determined when she set her mind to something and she’d set her mind on him. With the firm imprint of Jane’s breasts against his chest sharper than a shot of brandy, the thought of allowing things to play out as Jane had written held a certain appeal. After the kiss, she could have asked him to rob a mail coach with her and he would have gone along. It had taken him hours to come to his senses.
His father dropped the crystal stopper of the decanter on the table beside it. ‘In your room?’
‘I didn’t invite her there. She appeared all on her own.’
‘Preposterous. It’s not something a lady of her breeding would even consider.’ His father shook his head. ‘Next you’ll tell me she gambles and I detest gambling. Men default on my loans because they’re throwing their money away at the tables while leaving their children to starve and their businesses to founder. Why, I had a cheesemonger’s son in here the other day trying to beg money from me because he’s wasting everything while his father slaves away. The man made me sick.’
This wasn’t the first time Jasper had heard this sort of thing. He’d grown up having the evils of gambling drilled into him. He should have listened to his father.
‘I think this little incident sounds exactly like something Jane would do. She’s always been a bit wild.’ His mother drew a long thread through her embroidery hoop, amused rather than disgusted by Jane’s more than usually outlandish behaviour. ‘You remember the time she dressed up as a boy to visit the coaching inn with you and Milton.’
‘Or the time she went with us to buy tobacco at the auction, thinking she could sell it at a higher price by the docks.’ It was one of Jasper’s fondest memories of Jane.
‘She made quite a profit from that little endeavour, didn’t she?’
‘So did I. It was Milton who lost money because he wouldn’t listen to her and buy a pouch.’
‘Well, there’s your brother for you.’ His mother loved her children, but wasn’t blind to their faults, not even Jasper’s. If she ever learned the true extent of them, she’d throw Jasper out of the house. She was a patient and tolerant lady, but even she had her limits. If his father ever found out where Jasper’s money really came from he’d exile him from the family for good.
Jasper took a deep breath, pushing back his worries. He’d make sure his father never discovered the true source of his income or his inheritance.
‘What the devil has got into the two of you?’ His father frowned. Mr Rathbone had informed Jasper’s parents of the incident, to his surprise leaving out the part about the kiss. It was a good thing he had. With so many Charton siblings, there were few secrets anyone in the family could keep. At times, Jasper was amazed he’d been able to hold on to his for so long. ‘Miss Rathbone isn’t a child any more, but a grown woman who should know better than to act like a wh—’
‘Henry, mind your tongue,’ Jasper’s mother warned.
‘Don’t get me wrong, I love the girl like she was my own and she has an admirable head for investments, but all this nonsense today does make one wonder.’ He took a hearty drink.
‘She’s stubborn, like her mother, God rest her soul.’ Jane’s mother had been Jasper’s mother’s best friend.
‘You’re lucky Philip didn’t march you two up the aisle.’ His father poured himself more brandy, stopped by a stern look from his wife from filling up the glass. ‘Maybe I should. Man like you establishing himself in London after being gone so long doesn’t need Philip Rathbone working against you. You need him with you.’
Being so intimately connected to Mr Rathbone was the last thing Jasper needed. If anyone could ferret out Jasper’s secret it was Philip. Jasper had caught the scrutiny her brother had lodged at him the moment he’d broken from Jane in his bedroom. It was the look he remembered from when they were kids and the man could guess at once exactly where they’d been and what they’d been up to. He had the elder Mr Rathbone’s gift for sizing people up in an instant.
Jasper fingered the letter again, wondering if her note was to be believed and if Philip was indeed planning to haul Jasper and Jane to the altar. If so, he’d have to find a way to turn Philip down and it wouldn’t be any easier than refusing Jane. He admired him and his father was right, he couldn’t afford to make an enemy of the man. The best he could hope for was Philip turning his attention elsewhere and having no reason to pry into Jasper’s affairs by insisting on a wedding.
‘Whatever happens, you can’t let it distract you from establishing your club. The money from the sale of your American goods won’t support you for ever,’ Jasper’s father continued. ‘I’m still amazed what you brought back from Savannah garnered as much as it did.’
‘It appears there’s a better market here for old Louis XIV than in America. So much for superior English taste.’ Jasper forced himself to laugh, pretending like always to be light-hearted. It was the only way to hide the lies weighing him down.
‘You’ll run through the money if you keep spending it like a drunk earl,’ his father blustered and Jasper pressed his lips tight together to hold back a retort. Like the rest of his family, his father failed to understand why Jasper indulged in a few fine things. Death had brushed up against him in Savannah and he was determined to embrace life in London. Besides, it wasn’t only himself he spent money on, but on the footmen and dealers who needed it more than he did.
‘I don’t know what you learned about managing your affairs from your Uncle Patrick. Heaven knows he...’ A warning look from Jasper’s mother made his father abandon whatever line of reasoning he’d embarked on concerning his mother’s favourite brother. ‘Either way, you’re here now, not in America. You must be swift and decisive and stop missing out on opportunities like the Fleet Street building.’
Jasper nodded as his father continued to lecture him about how to handle his affairs, but Jasper’s thoughts wandered from his future and his past to fix instead on Jane. He touched the letter again, the paper smooth like her lips beneath his. He’d meant for the kiss to put her off him. Instead of dissuading her, he’d given her even more reason to pursue him and for him to accept. In her soft sigh he’d heard her whispering for him to follow her out of the shadows of his lies and into respectability.
He wondered if he could.
He plucked a glass paperweight with a wasp suspended inside it off the table beside his mother, the glass cool and smooth against his palm. At one time he would have followed Jane’s intuition and believed, like she did, in everything working out as planned. After the things he’d seen in Georgia he no longer could, and he couldn’t corrupt her the way his uncle had corrupted him.
However, if anyone could help him establish his club, it was Jane. She’d always had a knack for making money.
He rolled the glass between his palms, amazed to find himself considering her offer. A partnership with Jane might have advantages, but it held so many risks. Living as one man during the day and another at night was wearing on him, and not having complete privacy in his parents’ house while his Gough Square town house was being repaired further complicated things. He’d inherited the residence from Uncle Patrick and had intended to move there in the weeks after he’d came home. Then he’d got a good look at the place. It hadn’t been well maintained in the thirty years since Uncle Patrick had left it. Jasper had been forced to employ a builder to see to the much-needed repairs before he could hope to move in. They were almost finished and he would at last have complete privacy, one he didn’t wish to impede with a marriage.
He couldn’t continue the deceit inside the intimate bonds of a marriage, but as a friend, she might understand. He could confide in her the way he hadn’t been able to do with Milton or anyone else, and trust her to keep his secret the way she’d trusted him enough to be alone in his room and take his nakedness in her stride, confident he’d do nothing against her will. He was certain of it, even if it risked making her recoil from him.
His hand stilled, trapping the paperweight between his palms before he set it down. He hated to lose her regard so soon after he’d returned, but he must reveal a little of the ugliness ruling him in order to make her understand why they could not marry.
Chapter Three (#u6afa55a0-e29c-5d48-9cca-01a390f3b7e9)
Jane trudged upstairs after a tense and uncomfortable dinner. Philip’s anger had vanished, but there’d been no mistaking his weariness over her behaviour and his constant need to correct it. If her niece and nephews hadn’t chattered throughout the entire meal, masking the adults’ silence, she would have been able to hear herself chew.
The lively conversation she used to enjoy at meals before Mrs Townsend had left to marry Dr Hale no longer existed. Instead, all discussion seemed to focus on Thomas, Natalie and William’s lessons or antics. Jane loved her niece and nephews, but she missed Laura’s mother and the long hours they used to spend discussing the latest gossip or news. Mrs Townsend, or Mrs Hale as she was now, might not be far away, but Dr Hale’s busy medical practice commanded her time, leaving her little freedom to linger over tea with Jane.
She stopped at the top of the stairs, wishing she could speak with Mrs Townsend the way she used to, especially to discuss Jasper’s unexpected kiss. She had no idea what to make of it, or how to stop thinking about it. With one finger she traced the curve of the polished wood banister. The potent memory of his tongue caressing hers made her heart skip a beat and his silence all the more irritating. He hadn’t rushed to answer her note.
I should’ve listened to Philip and simply sold Jasper the building. Her plan had only succeeded in making her appear like a desperate fool. How many times did Jasper have to tell her he wanted nothing more from her than friendship before she’d listen?
Friendship was the only thing I was offering. He was the one who wanted more. And she should have pushed him away and upbraided him for his forwardness and salvaged something of her pride. If she hadn’t enjoyed the kiss so much she would have.
I can’t believe I was so weak. She slapped the top of the rail and strode down the hall to her room. Inside, with the door closed, she undid the front flap of her dress and shrugged out of the garment. Laying it aside, she breathed deeply against the soft boning of her stays and made her way to the washstand. She poured some water into the bowl, dipped her hands in and was about to splash her face when her eyes met Jasper’s.
‘Good evening, Jane.’
She jumped back with a stifled yelp, sending the water in her hands spilling down over her neck and chest, and rolling under her stays. The cold liquid made the fabric of her garments stick to her skin. ‘How did you get in here?’
Jasper stepped out of the shadow between the washstand and the armoire, took the towel from the rail and handed it to her. ‘The way you taught me to when we were children.’
Except Jasper was no longer a boy; he was a man, as his semi-nakedness had proven today. She snatched the linen out of his outstretched hand, careful not to brush against him. He dropped down on the bench at the foot of her bed and watched her dry her face. Together with Milton, they had spent many nights huddled there, whispering their plots for surprising the housekeeper with frogs and getting a peek at the shops, at least until the day the adults had made it clear there were to be no more night-time games between them.
‘Is there some reason you decided to sneak past Philip’s men to come see me?’ She should speak to Philip about his men failing to guard the house, but she was more flattered than perturbed. Milton had never been so bold.
‘Yes, I received your note.’
Jane twisted the towel between her hands. ‘And?’
He shook his head. ‘You have to give up on the idea of us, Jane.’
She tossed the damp towel on the washstand. ‘As you did when I was thirteen and I told you I’d wait for you?’
‘This isn’t a child’s game.’
‘Then why bother with all these theatrics? Send a note and be done with the matter.’
‘I can’t.’ Jasper came to stand over her. He smelled of night-air-dampened wool with a hint of spicy snuff. It was a heady mixture which enticed her to draw up on her toes and inhale, but she kept her feet firmly on the floor. If she was going to be rejected, again, it wouldn’t be while sniffing him. ‘I know you, Jane. Once you decide on something it’s difficult to talk you out of it, but I must.’
She took a step back, ready to tease him with some of the same heat he’d tried to singe her with today. He wasn’t the only one who could play the game of wiles. ‘Are you sure that’s the only reason you’re here?’
He slid his gaze down to her chemise and the tight breasts beneath it. She wasn’t sure what he could see through the wet cotton, but she hoped it was a great deal and made him at least regret his rejecting her. He took his time admiring her and she shifted on her feet, trying to ease the tension creeping through her. She was seized by the desire to fall on him and do all the things she’d imagined while she’d stared at his half-naked body in his room. There was no Philip to stop her. If Jasper took her in his arms and fulfilled the offer in the press of his lips against hers this afternoon, she wouldn’t put up much of a resistance.
The low rumble of a suppressed laugh rippled out of his throat. ‘You think you know something of the world and men, but you don’t.’
She raised her chin in defiance. ‘I know enough.’
He leaned back against the bedpost and pinned her with the same wicked smile as he had right before he’d kissed her, his confidence as annoying as it was seductive. ‘You don’t know anything. Not about me or about life.’
He was right and it chafed as much as the wet chemise sticking to her stomach. She’d seen nothing of the world and, except for this afternoon and a rather dull few minutes in the dark part of the garden with Milton, she had very little experience with men. ‘You think you’re the one to teach me?’
‘Yes, and I’ll prove it.’ He slid her dress off the chair where she’d tossed it and held it out to her. ‘I’m going to show you something no one else in London knows about me.’
She tilted her head at him, puzzled by his sudden seriousness. Whatever he had planned clearly didn’t involve more of his naked body against hers. Too bad. ‘You have the French pox?’
He jerked back. ‘No!’
Well, at least this finally struck a blow. ‘Then simply have out with it and save us both the bother.’
He shook the dress at her. ‘It’s better if you see it.’
‘I can’t. If I sneak out with you and Philip discovers me gone, he’ll commit me to a convent.’ She’d wounded her brother enough today with her silly scheme. She didn’t want to worry him if he came in and found her gone.
‘You have to be Catholic to become a nun.’
‘Not with Philip’s contacts.’ Her brother knew someone everywhere and could always get exactly what he wanted when he wanted it. She wished she were so abundantly influential.
‘Well, before you’re cloistered, come with me. You’ll understand why we can’t marry after you see it and how the fault is with me, not you.’
The pain edging his entreaty made her heart ache. She wanted to pull him out of his darkness, not because she was plotting to ensnare his hand, but because she didn’t want her old friend to suffer alone the way she did. ‘I don’t care about your faults.’
He lowered the dress, his expression filled with the same anguish as the night he’d told her about his parents’ plans to send him to apprentice with his uncle. She held her breath, silently urging him to confide in her once more, but as fast as the old Jasper appeared he was gone, covered by the smooth gallant who’d embraced her this afternoon. ‘Come on, the Jane I used to know wouldn’t have shied away from an adventure.’
He was right. She’d always been the one to drag the Charton brothers into mischief. How things had changed. Milton had turned out to be a bigger rat than the ones shuffling along the garden wall, Jasper had gone off to find his life and Jane was still waiting for hers. Tonight she would have it. ‘All right, I’ll go with you.’
She took the garment, her fingers brushing his before she pulled back. It was as fleeting a touch as a raindrop, but it doused any remaining reservations she might have about going with him. This was dangerous, not in a get-with-child way, but in a lose-your-head-and-be-hurt-again sort of way. However, while they were together tonight there was still a chance to change his mind.
She snapped out the dress then lowered it to step inside, very aware of how bending over revealed the tops of her full breasts above the stays and how keenly he watched her. She hid her sly smile by focusing on doing up the tapes. Let him be tempted and then try to tell her he wanted none of it. She didn’t believe him or the salaciousness of his secret. They were rarely as interesting or as awful as people painted them.
When she was done dressing and had donned a sturdy pelisse, he held out his hand to her, his fingers long and his palm wide. ‘Are you ready?’
Her heart raced as the old memories collided with the coming thrill of a new adventure. She hadn’t felt this excited or daring in ages. She slipped her hand in his, drawing in a sharp breath as his fingers closed around hers. ‘Yes.’
* * *
‘You can’t marry me because of a warehouse?’ Jane stared up at the squat building, the mouldy stench of the nearby Thames River making her wrinkle her nose. ‘These don’t frighten me. Philip owns a few.’
‘It’s not the warehouse, it’s what’s inside.’ He fiddled with a small iron ring, making the keys hanging off it clatter together.
‘Unless you have bodies for the anatomists stacked in there, I very much doubt it. Even then, I could probably do something with them.’
‘I don’t doubt you could.’ He shot her an appreciative smile as he unlocked the door and pushed it open. ‘But I’m not a resurrectionist.’
‘Good, it’s a rather smelly business.’ She strode through the small door set beside the larger one used to load and unload freight.
He joined her in the darkness of the warehouse, drawing the door closed behind them. Slivers of moonlight fell in through the high windows at the top and the few cracks in the wooden walls, illuminating the dust kicked up by their entrance. The warehouse was nearly empty except for a few paintings in large, gilded frames leaning against a far wall. They were kept company by an overly ornate set of bergère chairs, a few crates and a wide but dismantled four-poster bed. ‘Shouldn’t there be more here? It seems a waste to pay rent to store so little.’
‘They’re the last of what I brought back from America. I sold the rest. Besides, storage isn’t the only thing I use this building for, as you’re about to see. Come along.’ He led her through a narrow door at the far end, past empty crates without their lids and bits of straw littering the floor around them.
Beneath the steady cadence of his boots, Jane caught the dim sound of laughter and footsteps from somewhere overhead. She thought she was imagining it until Jasper opened another door to reveal a narrow staircase. More laughter and voices drifted down from upstairs. ‘Are you having a gathering in a warehouse?’
‘You could say that.’ He avoided her eyes as he slid the keys back in his pocket.
‘Jasper Charton, are you running a house of ill repute?’
His head jerked up. ‘No, at least not the kind you’re imagining. Even if I was, don’t appear so excited. It isn’t right for you to be so thrilled at the idea.’
‘It isn’t right for me to be in a warehouse with a single man in the middle of the night either...’ she threw open her arms ‘...and yet here I am.’
‘Yes, here you are.’ He pulled his lips to one side in displeasure, as if his plan wasn’t unfolding quite as he’d imagined. Good. It’d be a welcome change to have someone else’s plans go awry instead of hers.
‘Well, are you going to show me?’
‘I’m debating it.’
‘The time for that has passed.’
‘I suppose it has. Come on then.’ Jasper took her hand, his fingers tight around hers as he started up the stairs. She held on to him, the pressure of his skin against hers making her a touch dizzy as they climbed to the first floor. Her curiosity increased with each step as she tried to guess what he’d brought her here to see. She hoped it wasn’t just warehousemen relaxing over cards after a long day. She was tired of disappointments. There’d been too many of them lately.
They stepped into the hall and stopped before a closed door. Light slipped out from under it along with muffled conversation and the faint aroma of pipe smoke. She studied the light beneath the wood, noting how it dimmed and brightened as someone on the other side passed between the source and the door. She waited anxiously for him to open it and reveal what was on the other side, but instead he led her past it to the far end of the hall. She could see the dark recess of an opening and the top of another, much wider, staircase leading back down to the ground floor and the front of the building. It was quiet here, the sounds drifting out of the other room muffled more than they should be in an old place like this. There was also nothing here except a lantern on a metal hook breaking up the endless line of knotted planked wall. She wondered if he meant to lead her back into the warehouse when he reached up and pushed aside the wide plate connecting the metal base to the lamp. It exposed a brass ring hidden behind it.
Now he really had her attention.
He pulled the ring and a portion of the planked wall popped open, revealing a door concealed by the wood and the darkness.
‘Impressive,’ Jane conceded, jealous. As children, they’d dreamed of having a secret room of their own. The empty space beneath the stairs in the Charton house was the closest they’d come, but every adult had known about it, along with every servant who used to check there first whenever they couldn’t find them.
‘Don’t compliment me yet.’ He unlocked the door and led her into an office far more opulent than Philip’s. Gilt-framed paintings adorned the far wall and an elaborate peacock inkwell punctuated the lustrous blotter. Sumptuous leather furniture complemented the narrow-legged burled-wood desk and added to the gaudy wealth of the decor.
‘Are you sure you’re not running a house of ill repute because your office is decorated like one.’
‘This came from my uncle’s house in Savannah. He had a penchant for gaudy furniture. I sold the worst of it a while back.’
She hated to think what the rest of it looked like if this was the most conservative. She was about to say so when he faced her, as serious as a bailiff. ‘Promise me, no matter what happens between us, you won’t reveal to anyone what I’m about to show you.’
She didn’t share his sense of gravitas. ‘Your accounting books?’
He ignored her humour and took her hands. His eyes bored into hers with a severity she’d only seen the morning they’d laid her parents to rest. It turned her as serious as him. ‘I brought you here because I can trust you, I always could, and I need someone to confide in. I thought I could do it with Milton, but he’s proven himself unworthy.’ A stricken look crossed his face, reminiscent of the one Philip had worn the morning Arabella, his first wife, had died after giving birth to their son Thomas. ‘Promise me.’
She imagined the loss of his closeness with Milton might be to blame for the darkness colouring his eyes, yet deep down she suspected it wasn’t. ‘I promise.’
He let go of her and went to a painting of a large house with tall columns hanging on the wall. He swung it aside to reveal a peephole. ‘Come look.’
* * *
Jasper held his breath as Jane rose on her tiptoes and pressed her face to the hole. The light spilling out of the room beyond spread over her fine nose and high cheeks, and he caught something of the mischievous imp he’d begun to love before his parents had sent him to America. Except it wasn’t their past captivating him tonight, it was the present. She was so stunning and innocent and he longed to draw her close instead of pushing her away. He couldn’t because she deserved better than a damaged and deceitful man, and it was already too late. There was no stopping Jane from being disgusted by what he was showing her and no way of preventing her from telling everyone if she decided to betray him.
She won’t. It was the old bond they’d shared in childhood when they used to sneak away from lessons with the bird-like tutor to go and play. It continued to connect them, despite the years they’d spent apart. ‘This is how I make my living.’
‘You’re running a gambling hell.’ She pressed her hands against the wall and leaned in closer to the hole.
He rested her painting on a small hook, then slid aside the portrait of a dog beside hers to view the tables full of men playing cards across the green baize. The cut-crystal lamps hanging over each table cast circles of light to surround them. Men recruited from the nearby slums who’d demonstrated even a modicum of manners moved between the guests to refill brandy glasses and light cigars, and, most importantly, extend credit. ‘Not only do I own the Company Gaming Room, I’m the house bank. The players bet against me and most of the time they lose.’
A loud cheer went up from across the room as Mr Portland, a rotund man with a long face, threw up his hands in victory. ‘Sometimes, they win.’
Mr Bronson, a lanky gentleman in a fine suit and a bright red waistcoat, Jasper’s partner in this affair, approached the winner to offer congratulations and payment.
Jane studied him, but he continued to observe the room, bracing himself for the sneer of disgust he was sure was coming. They’d both been raised to detest gambling as man after man had approached their fathers and brothers for money to cover their debts and save the businesses they were throwing away with the dice. Jasper was contributing to the very thing which had ruined so many, including him.
‘Why, Jasper Charton, I never thought you had it in you to be a rogue.’ He turned to face her, stunned to discover her blue eyes, illuminated by the candlelight concentrated through the hole, open wide in amazement.
‘You’re not supposed to be impressed.’ He set the dog painting over the hole and then reached past her face to return the house painting back to its original position.
‘I admit it’s a bit shady, but it doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate what you’ve done and how much you’ve accomplished in a matter of months.’
‘It’s a gambling hell, not a cotton-import business.’ He pressed his knuckles into his hips. This wasn’t the reaction he’d expected and yet he couldn’t help but smile. This was exactly like something she would do. ‘I thought your brother raised you to detest gambling?’
‘I thought your father did the same. It seems it didn’t stick for either of us.’ She cocked her thumb at the wall. ‘I assume he doesn’t know about this.’
‘No one in the family does. Can I trust you not to tell them or use this against me in your matrimonial pursuit?’
‘Of course. I’m not low enough to blackmail a person.’ Jane crossed her arms beneath her round breasts. ‘But I don’t see how you’ll keep it from them for ever. Isn’t this illegal?’
‘No, but it’s not entirely legal either, rather a grey area, which is why I don’t draw much attention to it.’
‘And no one around here has noticed so much coming and going at night?’
‘Drunks are the only people in this area after dark and a dram here and there keeps them quiet. It, and the front and back entrances, are why I chose this building.’
‘Impressive.’ Despite himself, he basked in her compliment before her next questions dissolved it. ‘Did you do this in Savannah?’
Guilt struck him as hard as shame. ‘I did.’
‘What did your uncle think of it?’
He strode to the fireplace, debating whether or not to take her deeper into his confidence, but the freedom to finally speak about this part of his life muted his usual caution. He’d brought Jane this far, there was little harm in taking her a touch further. ‘He’s the one who taught me to do it.’
‘He was a gambler, too?’ She rushed to join him at the ornately carved marble mantel.
‘He never gambled and neither do I. It isn’t wise.’
‘Well, he certainly wasn’t a cotton merchant, was he?’
‘Maybe when he first went to America, but he couldn’t tell the difference between Egyptian cotton and South Carolina cotton by the time I joined him. I was as stunned as you are when I learned of his true trade.’ Stunned and in awe. To a young man of fifteen who’d thought he’d been banished from his family and consigned to a colonial backwater, the vice-filled rooms and the income they gave him had been a scintillating temptation. He’d embraced the life, even when its darkness had shown itself in the haggard faces of losers at the Hazard table. ‘Pretending to my mother to be a cotton merchant was Uncle Patrick’s way of explaining the source of his wealth without offending anyone’s sensibilities.’
‘And your mother never suspected the truth?’
‘She’s quick, but Savannah is a long way from London.’ The distance was the most enticing aspect of coming home, but not even an entire ocean could separate him from his past failures. ‘She loved her brother, but my father wasn’t as enamoured of him. Father would’ve despised him if he’d known the real source of his income.’
‘And he wouldn’t have sent you to him.’
A sense of lost days flitted between them. He wished he’d never left, then all the horror he’d witnessed, and all the sins he’d committed, might not have happened and he’d be worthy of accepting Jane’s hand. ‘Uncle Patrick built a fortune on merchants, sea captains with prize money, cotton traders and tobacco planters looking for more respectable entertainment than the seedy dives by the docks, a way to fill the time between when they saw their wares off and when they returned to their rural homes or ruined themselves at our tables.’
‘If they were stupid enough to gamble, then they got what they deserved,’ Jane pronounced.
‘I used to think so, too.’ Until Mr Robillard. He stared into the fire, watching the flames dance the way they had in the biers scattered throughout Savannah to try to drive off the miasma sickening the city. It hadn’t worked. ‘I’ve learned a little more compassion since then and I have rules about limits. The men who play here know I won’t allow them to end up drunk and broke in the gutter.’
It was a lesson he’d learned the hard way, one his uncle certainly hadn’t taught him. If he’d learned it sooner, many men and their families might have been saved from destitution. Try as Jasper might to atone for his sins in London, he couldn’t make up for the many he’d committed in Georgia.
‘How do you keep this a secret? I recognise most of the men in there from their dealings with Philip. They must recognise you.’
‘They’ve never seen me in there. The man in the red waistcoat who spoke to the winner is Mr Bronson. He was Uncle Patrick’s long-time employee in Savannah. After my uncle died...’ Jasper took a deep breath, forcing back the memories ‘...I offered him the chance to be more than a servant and to share in a good amount of the profits. He’s the face of the Company Gaming Room, the one clients approach with troubles and concerns, then he comes to me. It hides my involvement in the club.’ It was one of the many façades he’d adopted since coming home. ‘My clients are merchants, businessmen, or foreigners with a taste for English gambling who’d never be admitted to one of the more fashionable clubs.’
‘You don’t cater to toffs? They’d be more lucrative.’
‘And troublesome. Their titled fathers would wreak havoc if their progeny lost the family estate to a mere merchant. The toffs also find my wager limits repugnant. They can afford to throw away their fortunes. Most merchants can’t.’
‘Then why is Captain Christiansen in there?’ She pointed to the wall, beyond which sat a lanky gentleman with his long fingers tight on a fan of cards, who Jasper knew sat at his usual table with more empty drink glasses than chips in front of him.
‘He’s a second son and he’s losing the money he earns from captured ships, not his father’s wealth, otherwise Lord Fenton would be in here putting a stop to it at once.’ Jasper motioned for her to sit on the leather sofa behind her. He took a box of fine sweets off the corner of his desk and held them out to her. ‘I also allow him to play here because he offers the other patrons information about oversees interests and ports they can’t obtain elsewhere.’
‘A wise decision.’ She selected one round confection dusted with sugar, pausing to look up at him through her thick lashes. ‘If this is the source of your income, then why did you want a building in the heart of the Fleet? It’d be hard for you to hide your activities there.’
She bit into the treat, as perceptive and tempting as ever. He tossed the box on his desk, then sat on the leather chair across from hers. ‘Many men come here for more than cards; they want to discuss contracts, stocks and markets in a space more conducive to sensitive deals than a coffee house. It’s the edge my establishment offers, the one I wish to cultivate and turn into a respectable business. The building would’ve been the perfect place for it.’
‘You could have the Fleet Street building if you agree to my terms.’ Her tongue slid over her bottom lip to lick off a bit of confectioner’s sugar clinging there. The gesture almost made Jasper slide across the gap and take care of the sweetness for her. Instead, he threw his hands up over the back of the leather’s curving edge. Not only should she not be here, but he shouldn’t be reacting to her like this. It wasn’t right and still he couldn’t dampen the heat rising inside him.
‘You know I can’t.’ It was time to think with his mind and not parts lower down. ‘I’m not an honest merchant like Milton or my sisters’ husbands.’
‘Good, I’m glad.’
‘Don’t be.’ He’d been naive about the dangers and temptations which could rob a man of his worth. He was too familiar with them now and didn’t want to visit them on her. ‘It isn’t easy being up all night, sleeping in the day, and lying to everyone about everything.’
She leaned forward with the same determination she’d used to approach him this afternoon. ‘Then let me help you become respectable again. We can establish the club together, secure more patrons and devise many means of making money off them, either through wine and cigars or expensive baubles for their wives sold at inflated prices.’
Jasper rubbed his eyes with his fingers. ‘Jane, be sensible.’
‘I am being sensible. A busy man must placate his wife and jewellery is an excellent way to do it. By selling ready-made pieces at the club we can save merchants a trip to the jewellers.’
Jasper peered at her through his fingers. ‘I hadn’t thought of that.’
‘Fine stationary for their contracts would also be good and the services of a private solicitor to keep things confidential.’
Jasper rubbed his chin. ‘Property agents might not be a bad idea, either, and we could take a cut of their sales.’
She laid her hands smugly on her knees. ‘See, I can help you.’
He snapped out of his interest. He was supposed to be putting her off him, not being drawn into a potential partnership. ‘No, you can’t.’
‘I can and you’ll see it and change your mind.’
He leaned forward, one elbow on his knee. ‘I promise you, I won’t.’
She matched his position, bringing her face close to his. ‘I promise you, you will.’
They stared at one another in challenge, so close together he could see each curling lash rimming her eyes. The temptation to kiss her again gripped him and he was certain she would allow it, but he held firm against the desire to lean in and claim her lips. He was here to discourage her, not trifle with her. The rattle of dice and conversation from the adjacent room drifted in despite the thick padding he’d paid builders to add to the walls. Her small breaths glided over the back of his hand where it hung between his knees, the need to resist her beginning to lose its urgency. He’d expected her to loathe him, not go along with him as if he’d invited her to a box at Drury Lane Theatre. Maybe allying himself with her wouldn’t be as dangerous as he’d first believed. She could help him and in deeper ways than mere negotiations and sales.
He sat back, putting distance between her and temptation. Revealing his involvement in a gambling hell was one thing, but he wouldn’t entice her into this life the way his uncle had enticed him. ‘I think it’s time to get you home.’
‘But we haven’t resolved anything.’
‘We’ll discuss the rest in the carriage.’ He checked the glass peephole hidden in a knot in the door to make sure the hallway was clear, then tugged it open. ‘We don’t want your brother to discover you missing and make you Sister Mary Saint Jane.’
She wagged one finger at him. ‘Don’t think you’ll put me off so easily.’
She strode past him and into the hallway, her confidence as alluring as her perfume.
* * *
Jane allowed Jasper to lead her out the way they’d come in and to hand her into the waiting carriage. The night chill made her shiver as she settled against the fine leather seats. She could pull the rug up over her knees, but the bracing air kept her on guard to continue her fight. Warmth might lull her into cosiness and make her forget what she needed to do on the ride home, her last real chance to change Jasper’s mind. She’d seen his determination waver when she’d made the suggestion about the jewellery and the solicitor, and again when they’d faced one another. He might outwardly protest, but inside he was weakening.
He settled across from her and with a knock on the roof set the conveyance in motion. They rode in silence as the carriage came around the building and passed the front entrance of the hell where a few vehicles waited for their riders while another pulled up to the front door to let off a new arrival. Then the building faded into the distance and the warehouses gave way to narrow streets and dark, ramshackle buildings. After a street or two, Jasper covered a large yawn with the back of his hand.

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