Читать книгу Undone By His Kiss - Anabelle Bryant - Страница 11

Chapter 3

The following morning, Jasper awaited Randolph’s arrival at the office. While he’d concede he’d allowed too much time to travel from his town house to upper Bond Street, there was little traffic and no excuse came to mind why Randolph would be more than an hour late. Nearly two hours, now. He exhaled a frustrated breath. He’d need to reiterate his dedication and insist his friend adopt a similar attitude. As business partner, Randolph had no stake in the success of Inventive Investments other than to keep his daylight hours busy before perusing the night in search of lively reverie, but a lackadaisical attitude would benefit no one. This endeavor warranted a sharp mind and keen intuitive intellect.

Everything balanced on Jasper’s success. It wasn’t the money he was after this time, but reputation instead.

All considerations were cut short when Randolph entered, Kellaway fast on his heels.

“Look who I found at the haberdashery? I’ve convinced Kell to come down and have a look around.”

Kellaway seemed to be doing just that, although Jasper wouldn’t believe for an exhale the viscount had interest in their business. Kell was a notorious rake, and proud of the title. His expertise lay in bedrooms, not ballrooms; his skills honed to rolling dice, seducing women and pushing the limits too far. Society adored the handsome elbow-shaker, entertained by his renowned laissez-faire attitude as he played through life, one gaming hell to the next, a different woman in bed every evening. Unlike Jasper, he hadn’t a care of reputation and Kellaway’s was beyond wicked.

“Hello, Benedict.” Annoyed his associate had arrived late, Jasper weighed his words with care and settled behind his desk to open a file and scan the contents, meaning to evoke a serious tone. His comrades missed the mark. He clenched his teeth when their discussion turned to fashion. After fifteen minutes’ debating handkerchief squares and cravat folds, Jasper’s nerves frayed through.

“Randolph.” The two syllables resembled a baritone growl. “Have you reviewed the information I left describing the advantages of Nasmyth’s steam hammer?”

“Nay.” Beaufort shook his head in the negative. “I’ve all day for that with no one coming in.” He returned attention to his conversation although he continued to address Jasper. “Kellaway purchased the swallowtail coat ensemble in the haberdashery’s window display. The navy dyed Kersey wool is the finest I’ve ever seen.” He paused and rapped Kellaway on the shoulder in masculine joviality. “As if you weren’t a swell of the first stare already.”

Time might have continued to waste, with Randolph’s bottle-headed comments and Jasper’s teeth gnashing, but the door opened and a stranger entered, his sleek walking stick and fine apparel marking him as quality of the highest cut. Jasper snapped to attention, introducing the other gentlemen and nodding with vigor at the front door so Randolph might dispense with Kellaway before he intruded on the gentleman’s visit.

At last things proceeded as planned and Jasper invited the visitor to sit, while Randolph lingered on the periphery.

“How may we assist?” Jasper eyed R. James Caulfield, Earl of Penwick, with attentive optimism. His heart pounded in his chest. An earl, in his office, to consult on investment opportunities; it could only mean good things. Word was circulating.

“I read about your recent success in The London Times although I happened upon your office this morning by accident. Quite clever of you to foresee the necessity of the mousetrap. I admire your tenacity.” Penwick paused and glanced to the large glass window at the front.

Jasper followed with a quick flick of attention, though the bustling street appeared as it always did this time of day. He had assessed the crowd’s pattern often enough. “Go on.”

“I’ve come into my title and wealth under odd, expected circumstance and I wish to expand my holdings through selective investment. The interview in the newspaper caught my interest. You’ve managed to overcome great odds. My situation is similar.”

Again their attention was drawn toward the front as increasing giddy conversation penetrated the glass. A cluster of women blocked the window and Jasper could no longer view the street. The ladies didn’t advance with the flow of foot traffic as expected and instead formed a consortium that directly obscured the office, most especially the gold lettering on the pane. Jasper tossed Randolph a piercing glare that had his friend bounding from the seat and striding toward the door, set to disperse the women who caused the commotion.

The brief noise of the outside world entered as Randolph exited, the bray of a donkey refusing to advance intermingled with the rattle of carriages on cobblestones, the intrusive sounds a divergent interruption to Penwick’s discussion of finances.

“You were saying?” Jasper attempted an even tone, despite his anger steeped. Over Penwick’s shoulder, with a clear view of the sidewalk, he noticed Randolph had somehow joined in conversation with the ladies outside, neither dispersing the crowd nor reprimanding the interlopers to conduct their recreation elsewhere.

“Perhaps I should make a more formal appointment.” Penwick stood and reclaimed his walking stick from where it rested against the desk. “I entered on a lark, motivated by curiosity more than preparedness.”

Jasper shot from his seat, unwilling to let Penwick escape without scheduling a commitment to return. “Would tomorrow morning suit? Nine sharp?” He managed to round the desk and place himself in Penwick’s path, obstructing the exit with insatiable avidity.

“Excellent. I’m in London for a short stay, but I’d like to continue this conversation. My life has undergone drastic change as of late and I mean to bring it to rights.” He transferred his walking stick from one hand to the other as he moved toward the door.

Jasper nodded and voiced a cordial goodbye as Penwick took his leave.

Then his patience snapped.

He shot to the window in time to see Randolph in animated dialogue with a woman dressed in a burgundy walking gown. She appeared to be the ape leader of the feminine assemblage, but he couldn’t be sure as her face was hidden below the brim of a frivolous little bonnet which concealed her profile in shadow. He charged the door, swung it wide and pushed into the boisterous fray with all the couth of a stray dog after an injured rabbit.

His action initiated an immediate quiet unusually absorbed by the clamoring traffic and hum of London commerce. Words stalled on his tongue and he slowly rotated his gaze, first left, then right, to match each speculative stare with mortifying awareness he’d overreacted and now would pay the devil.

Randolph, who’d conveniently stepped aside, flared his eyes and gave the slightest nod, but it was too late for warnings. Jasper swallowed his embarrassment, feeding the emotion to the flames of anger in his stomach which sparked when he’d first noticed the females congregating in front of his office. Their distracting presence would mislead any passerby who might consider his new enterprise a legitimate business venture. He straightened his shoulders and narrowed his eyes on the petite female commanding the other ladies to quiet down and be still.

“What are you doing?” Any trace of civility evaporated once he found his voice.

“I beg your pardon?” The icy cut of her words guaranteed it was no apology.

“You can’t bring your flock here and gather in front of my building. No one can see the window. Your conversations are intrusive and I’ve business to do inside.” Feeling vindicated, Jasper eyed his nemesis, daring her to look away. He would not break their stare though a peculiar tension took hold. The breeze stilled and the birds stopped singing; his glare unwavered. He’d stand outside all day if necessary.

Yet she didn’t bat a lash and as minutes ticked by, Jasper noticed her eyes were an unusual shade of blue. One that renewed memories of his childhood summers spent in Brighton with his brother and father. His mother had possessed lovely blue eyes, or at least he’d been told, too young to remember her before she passed away. Lost in the memory, he startled when the lady interrupted curtly.

“Your building?” She tilted her chin and nodded to the left. “This building here?”

An unexplainable ill ease crawled over his skin, warning he’d mis-stepped in an assortment of ways, but remained powerless to retract his initial bluster. It didn’t help that the accompanying aggregation had inched closer as the discussion evolved, while Randolph, his only reinforcement, had retreated to the shade of a nearby awning.

“Inventive Investment.” He stood firm. “It’s my business you and your companions have obstructed.”

One of her narrow brows winged high as he completed his sentence. Funny, how she expressed a plethora of emotion with the delicate movement.

“Ladies, I believe we’ve discovered our building mate.” She offered a slight scan over each shoulder before bringing her azure gaze to rest on his face. “I could be mistaken—”

Her flippant tone assured she knew better, yet her voice held a silky note that resonated inside him, akin to the pounding of his heart in his chest, where it remained for a spell before arrowing straight to his groin, no matter she’d insulted him.

“But this walkway does not belong to any single pedestrian.” She continued her harangue, her shoulders held in obdurate erectility, her didactic tone self-assured. “Our league has leased the office above yours and we’re gathering for a celebratory meeting. We assemble bi-weekly, except for special occasions, such as this, when we may congregate more often.”

He regretted the word for the hundredth time.

“I feel no need to explain my actions to you, Sir…” She said the word as if spitting poison from her tongue. “Other than to make it implicitly understood no such conversation will occur in the future.”

She finished with her hands on her hips and a tight-lipped tolerant smile that somehow expressed she thought him a goose-cap. She couldn’t be taller than five foot five, yet it felt as if she looked down on all six feet of him. He straightened his shoulders for the second time.

The ladies appeared on pins and needles in wait of his response. Randolph was nowhere to be found and Jasper defaulted to manners, no matter he’d acted the bore and rudely dismissed the ladies and their league without consideration of the actual situation or their gentle sensibilities. He’d worried over harridans and misguided dowagers, but how he’d miscalculated.

Before him stood a perfect combination of stern reprimand and untouched beauty as rare as the blue of her eyes. Fresh blooms of pale rose colored her cheeks as she berated and belittled him and yet he could only think of how pretty she appeared; the shade suiting her from the tip of her elaborate bonnet to the hems of her silk gown.

“Jasper St. David.” He didn’t know what else to say. “I believe we’ve a misunderstanding.” He swallowed audibly and waited.

“Miss Shaw.”

She extended her gloved hand to initiate a handshake, but still dumbfounded by the recent interaction, he stood immobile. After a moment, she withdrew and treated him to a firm smile that pulled him further into distraction. Damn his downfall, a pretty woman forever made him lose his purpose.

“Now that, ladies, is how it’s done.” She brushed past him and continued to the secondary door that led to the shared stairs and on to the upper floor. Removing a key from her reticule, she inserted it in the lock and with a flick of her wrist, drew the door wide so her companions could pass. “Remember, gentlemen feel entitled to as much as we allow…” She offered one last glance in his direction. “Including the public sidewalk.”

Then in a twirl of her skirts she followed the others up the stairwell and out of sight.

“What the hell happened?” He said the words aloud, but it was more to gain clarity than in expectation of an answer. Randolph’s prompt reply issued him another jolt.

“You’ve just experienced the verbal equivalent of having your cork drawn. If she were a he your nose would be bleeding.” A guffaw followed this observation and then Randolph sobered, the obvious taking hold.

“I’ve made a muck of things.” Jasper raised his eyes to the upstairs office. “I’d imagine the ladies are enjoying a good laugh at my expense.” His lament was overrun by the traffic of the noisy street. Little by little, London returned although he believed he’d never be the same again.

“Need I remind you to focus, my friend.” Randolph leaned a bit closer as if imparting a precious secret. “If we’re to make a go of this business venture, you’ll need to come up to scratch.”

Upstairs, the mood couldn’t be more convivial. Emily showed the ladies the two-room space before they moved to stand near the front window, watching the pedestrian flow and making plans for curtains and furnishings. Suggestions flourished, tinged with anticipation and excitement. It seemed too good to be true, their little league gaining legitimacy and attention with this leased location. Yet it didn’t take long before conversation took a decided turn.

“He’s terribly handsome. Mr. St. David, I mean. Don’t you agree?” Cynthia cooed the question, willing anyone to answer. She peered out the front window and angled her view downward as if she could see inside the office below. “You spoke to him directly, Emily. What color are his eyes?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I was too busy organizing my thoughts to note such triviality.” Green. His eyes were a lovely shade of green with little flecks of gold around the edges. Remembering the hue and sparkle caused an unexpected flutter in her belly.

“I noticed,” Margery piped up. “I stood behind him at first. His height and broad shoulders were impossible to ignore as they obscured my view entirely. But when I drew nearer, I noticed his eyes, his hair, were the warmest shade. It was difficult to follow the discussion after that.”

“Ladies,” Emily admonished although she’d observed the same. His hair was thick and wavy and in want of a good comb through for no other reason than the desire to feel the silky strands slip between her fingers. As they’d argued, an unruly lock had fallen across his brow. It lay against his skin above his right eye the entire time they’d spoken and the desire to reach up and tuck it back into place had made her fingers itchy inside her gloves. And those impossibly long lashes. She doubted the ladies saw the glimpse of a dimple in his right cheek. The memory caused her heart to beat a little faster. A handsome devil…but no, none of those observations mattered. Noticing these little qualities led to interest, and interest led to a large assortment of disasters all of which ensured her doom. Whatsoever was she thinking? She’d need to heed her own advice and avoid the entrapment of a gentleman’s charms.

“Mr. St. David may think he can tell us where to stand and what to do, but like most male assumptions concerning women, he’s wrong. His berating is exactly why I formed the League of Virtuous Equality. Would he have approached a group of men with the same attitude?” She didn’t pause long enough for an answer even though Prudence raised her hand to speak. “Absolutely not. He assumed we were a bunch of twittering chatterboxes who clogged up the sidewalk and waned with befuddlement because we couldn’t find our way to the tea shop. Take note and learn a lesson today—” Everyone’s head nodded, although Cynthia had a faraway look about her. “No matter how handsome, how clever or charming, men have held the upper hand in society far too long. Do not be fooled. Our efforts extend far beyond coquetry. Women are not meant to be bullied or coerced, but rather cherished and respected. That type of conduct will not be tolerated. It is our mission to spread the message and promote equality for all.”

A decided silence fell over their group and Emily wondered if her friends were too taken with the gentleman downstairs and his rugged appeal to consider her intent. Would women always abandon good sense when faced with a handsome male? Why should there be compromise? Couldn’t men and women share the world and experience all it had to offer without a winner and a loser? A broken heart? A spoiled mind?

Tears pricked her eyes and she swiped them away, afraid someone would notice her change of mood. Instead she busied herself near the sink, freshening the fiddleheads in the vase and rejoining the conversation, now turned to furniture and carpeting, while she’d reclaimed her emotions.