Читать книгу Historical Romance May 2017 Books 1 - 4 - Bronwyn Scott - Страница 12

Chapter Two

‘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.