Читать книгу Historical Romance May 2017 Books 1 - 4 - Bronwyn Scott - Страница 14

Chapter Four

‘Miss Rathbone, good morning,’ young Chester Stilton greeted Jane as she came downstairs for breakfast. Despite having been up most of the night, she’d awakened at her usual time just after sunrise. Force of habit was stronger than fatigue.

‘Mr Stilton, it’s a pleasure to see you here so early.’ It wasn’t, but she had to be polite to Philip’s clients. After the last day and night, she’d had her fill of young men and was in no mood to entertain any more. All she wanted was to continue on to the dining room and the large pot of coffee sure to be waiting there.

‘I certainly didn’t ask to come at this ungodly hour, but my father insisted.’ Mr Stilton’s thin upper lip pulled back in displeasure, revealing teeth as yellow as a wheel of cheese. Rumour was he rarely rose before noon, long after his industrious, and poorly named, cheesemonger of a father had gone to work to support his family and pay off his wastrel son’s large tailor bill. She wondered how long it would be until Chester Stilton began to seek loans to support his spending habits, assuming he hadn’t already done so to maintain his supply of the gaudily striped waistcoats, white hats and bright blue coats. ‘My father is here to pay off the loan your brother extended him last year. He wanted me to join in the discussion and learn a little something about money, as if I should take lesson like that from a man like your brother.’

Jane stiffened. ‘With all the credit the tailor extends you, one would think you possessed ample experience handling money, and debts. How proud your father must be of your ability to spend his hard-earned money on your clothes.’

‘As proud as your brother must be of paying his spinster sister’s milliner bills. You couldn’t even land staid Milton Charton of all people.’

‘I’m holding out for better prospects than the limited ones before me.’ How dare a man whose waistcoats were of more use to his father than he was pass judgement on her or Philip’s worth. She made a motion to leave, but he stepped in front of her.

‘As much as I don’t care for your brother or his moneylending ilk, for the right price I’d gladly take you off his hands.’ He swept her with a lascivious gaze which would have made a lesser woman blush.

She didn’t so much as twitch, but stared him down the way she would a slug crawling on one of the rose bushes. ‘What an honour to be added to the long list of other wealthy women in the Fleet who’ve spurned you.’

His lip dropped down to cover his yellow teeth. Before he could answer with what she imagined would be a less than witty response, the door to Philip’s office opened and the elder Mr Stilton, sharing his son’s long face and displaced front tooth, emerged smiling from inside. ‘Thankfully the better sort are hungering for my particular brand of cheddar, otherwise I don’t know where we’d be. Thank you again for your assistance, Mr Rathbone.’

Mr Stilton grabbed Philip’s hand and shook it vigorously before coming down the hallway to stand beside his son. ‘Miss Rathbone, how wonderful to see you this morning. I hope my son wasn’t being too cheeky with you, although if he was I wouldn’t mind. Chester, you couldn’t do better than to have an interest in Miss Rathbone. The girl is as sensible as she is pretty. What do you say, Miss Rathbone, any interest in my boy?’ He clapped Chester on the back, failing to notice the chill between Jane and his son.

From over the elder Mr Stilton’s shoulder Philip shook his head ever so slightly. Jane hardly needed the warning. Chester might feel he’d finally hit the bottom of the matrimonial barrel, but she wasn’t so desperate, yet.

‘Thank you for your kind offer, Mr Stilton, but I’m afraid my interests lie elsewhere.’

‘More’s the pity.’ Mr Stilton shook his head, then turned to Philip.

Jane didn’t hear what he said as she strode off to the dining room, doing her best to appear dignified. Once out of view, she stormed inside and up to the sideboard, immediately garnering Laura’s attention.

‘Jane, what’s wrong?’

‘Nothing, except for the yellow-toothed wastrel of a cheesemonger who decided to insult me this morning.’ She scooped out a hearty helping of eggs and smacked them down on her plate, wishing the china was Chester’s face and the spoon something more substantial. Jane marched to her place at the table beside Laura and tossed down her plate, causing some of the egg to spill over the side and on to the polished surface. She dropped into the chair the footman held out, her one comfort being the cup of black coffee he set beside her plate. She stared at the dark liquid, wondering if she could slip some brandy into it without anyone noticing. It would take the edge off her anger and the disappointment in herself.

There’d been a grain of truth in Chester’s insult. She was a spinster and time was not improving her situation or her prospects. When she’d held Jasper’s hand last night, she’d wondered if her fate was about to change, but it hadn’t. Despite his insistence, and her gut feeling, a morning like this one made it hard for her to believe the fault was with Jasper and not her.

‘Don’t let him get to you.’ Laura laid a calming hand on Jane’s arm. ‘You’re a wonderful young lady and some day the right man will come for you. You’ll see.’

‘When?’ Jane demanded, poking the eggs with her fork.

‘I don’t know, but we’ll put our minds to it and find you someone, or at the very least, something to entertain you. Perhaps you could stay with my mother for a while? She might introduce you to some of the new surgeons Dr Hale is training.’

‘You mean men who haven’t heard about my being thrown over?’ She shouldn’t be sulky with Laura. It wasn’t her sister-in-law’s fault she was on the shelf. If she weren’t so bold with her opinions and insistent on having her way, she might not be in this situation. She could only imagine how many young men who’d been trounced by her during debates on stocks must be gloating at this comeuppance.

‘That’s not what I mean,’ Laura clarified, more understanding than annoyed. ‘But you could help her. It might take your mind off—’

Thomas, William and Natalie came barrelling into the room, talking at the tops of their voices. Judging by the dirt on Natalie’s dress and the dust on the boys’ shoes they’d been playing in the garden.

‘Mama, Mama, Thomas pulled Natalie’s pigtails,’ William, the youngest boy, lisped over the noise of his brother and sister trying to get their mother’s attention. The bedraggled young governess sagged against the doorjamb to the dining room before she recovered herself and entered, keeping to the rear, knowing Laura preferred to be involved in most of the children’s issues. Unlike many mothers, Laura didn’t relegate the children to the second-floor nursery not to be heard from until it was time to be presented to their parents. Instead, they ran openly through the house like whirlwinds, as Jane, Milton and Jasper used to do.

‘No, I didn’t,’ Thomas insisted, with all the seriousness of Philip and Jane. His hair was lighter like his mother’s, while his younger half-sister and -brother had the darkness of Laura’s.

‘William started it,’ Natalie accused.

‘No, I didn’t.’ The little boy took a swing at his sister and the two of them were back to squabbling.

Jane tried not to sigh while she waited for the row to die down, but the children were insistent in their quarrel. Laura threw Jane an apologetic look which begged her to be patient, but Jane was tired of waiting. With a half-understanding smile, she left her coffee behind and fled the chaos of the dining room for the quiet of the hallway. In the past she and Mrs Hale would have crept off to the garden to discuss the matter. There was no one to speak with now. She wandered past her brother’s office to the back door leading to the garden. The Stiltons were gone and Philip sat behind his desk, speaking with his warehouse manager about some goods he’d been forced to seize from a client who’d defaulted on a loan. If Philip had been alone, she might have at last talked to him. She needed to speak with someone, to believe there might be one person who’d listen and give some attention and priority to her concerns. The truth was, there was no one.

Jane wandered out into the garden. She stopped at the edge of the portico and took in the sun falling across the white and red roses bouncing on their stems in the light spring breeze. The sight of the flowers didn’t calm her as it usually did, it only added to her frustration. If her mother were here, she would listen and make Jane a priority as she had when she was six. But her mother and father were gone and it was her fault they’d left.

Stop it. She sat on a bench in the centre of the garden. Frustration, anger and loneliness welled inside her until she wanted to walk through the gardens and knock each bright rose from its stem. She closed her eyes until it passed, but the disquiet accompanying it failed to ease. She wanted a place and life of her own and she had no idea how to find one.

‘Good morning, Jane.’ Jasper’s voice carried over the birds and the distant noise of the streets.

She rose and turned so fast, the garden swam, but Jasper remained stable in the centre of it. ‘What are you doing here?’ She wasn’t sure if she was delighted or distressed by his unexpected arrival.

‘I came to see you.’

‘Well, I’m not sure I wish to see you.’ She crossed her arms over her chest, flattered and irritated all at once. ‘I’ve had enough of condescending gentlemen this morning.’ No matter how impeccably dressed they might be. Jasper, like young Mr Stilton, was no stranger to his tailor, but there was a muted elegance to his dress the gaudy young cheesemonger lacked.

‘Tell me who’s ruffled your feathers and I’ll pummel him for you.’ He said it with a smile, but she caught a hint of seriousness in the slight narrowing of his eyes. If only she could set him on Mr Stilton. The cheesemonger’s son deserved a beating.

‘He isn’t worth bruising your knuckles.’ A little hope fluttered in her chest. He’d risen rather early this morning to seek her out and she suspected it had something to do with last night. ‘I assume you’re here to discuss more than my morning’s conversations.’

‘I am.’ He motioned to the bench.

She dropped down on the stone, the coolness of it seeping through her morning dress. He sat down beside her, the heat of his body noticeable against the chill of the spring morning. ‘Well? What brought you here?’

Unlike most people, he didn’t flinch or scowl at her directness.

‘I’ve given a great deal of thought to what we discussed last night and I’ve realised you’re right.’ He stretched out his legs. His boots covered his calves before stopping just below his knees and the polish reflected the grey of the house. ‘I need your skills and talents, your knowledge of the Fleet and business. And what more could a man ask for then a friend for a wife?’

Her heart raced so fast she thought she might have to run around the garden to calm it. He wants to marry me, to have me help him with his club.

She smoothed the front of her dress with the air of aloof uninterest Philip had taught her to assume when haggling with difficult merchants. She might have proposed first, but she wasn’t going to jump at his offer like some desperate spinster, or allow her desire to prove people like Chester Stilton wrong lead her into another mistake. ‘So you now believe we’d be good partners?’

‘Yes.’ He clutched the edge of the bench with his gloved hands and flexed his fingers over the stone. ‘When I told you my secret, you didn’t hate me for it or threaten to reveal it. Instead, you understood and wanted to help. You have no idea what that means to me.’

‘Yes, I do.’ She’d held back from telling Philip and Laura so many truths because she didn’t want them to laugh or scoff at her. Jasper wouldn’t laugh. He never had, not even when she’d blurted out how much she’d cared for him nine years ago. He could have been cruel and taunting, but instead he’d been tender and honest, saying he didn’t feel the same way. She was glad for that now. It meant he couldn’t play on her emotions as his brother had. But his honesty didn’t extend to everyone—Jasper was willing to deceive his family about who he really was and what he did for a living. He could easily deceive her, too, about the depths of his affinity for her and his reasons for changing his mind.

‘With your brother’s connections we can secure a common licence and be married by the end of the week and you could start work on the Fleet Street club at once.’ He leaned closer to her and lowered his voice. It flowed over her like a warm breeze. ‘Besides, I got a little taste of you the other day and I liked what I sampled. Marry me and there will be more of that, much more.’

A chill raced along her arm and it sparked her curiosity about the more intimate aspects of a union. The idea this could become something deeper than two friends making a bargain hovered between them. It almost made her forget about her objections. Almost. ‘Be serious.’

‘I am serious.’ Jasper didn’t sit back, but rested one elbow on his knee, remaining tantalisingly close. ‘I thought you were, too, after your outlandish proposal which, if I know your brother, got you nothing except some bother.’

‘I was serious.’ She was also scared.

‘Then why resist now?’

She took a deep breath, not wanting to be so vulnerable, but this was no time to hold back. Her entire future rested on this one proposal, and her getting it right this time. ‘I don’t want you to marry me out of some temporary convenience or because I’m an easy solution to your present problems. I don’t want to be forgotten or overlooked the moment you no longer need me and I don’t want you to conceal things from me the way you’ve concealed them from your family. I was embarrassed enough by your brother’s secret when it came out. I don’t want to be surprised by any of yours. I want you to be my friend, my true, real and forthright friend, like you used to be.’

He stared down at the ground, his mirth fading.

‘You can’t do it, can you?’ she challenged, the prickliness she’d first greeted him with returning.

‘No, I can’t talk about everything I experienced in Savannah. Surely you understand.’

She studied him and how the sun and the shadow from his hat darkened the circles under his eyes. Philip had taught her long ago to read people, but she’d never been as talented at it as he was. However, there was no mistaking the depth of Jasper’s pain, one she understood all too well. Like her, there were things he couldn’t talk about either. ‘I do.’

She glanced over her shoulder at the spire of St Bride’s Church rising up over the house and the churchyard where her parents lay.

‘The anniversary was last week, wasn’t it?’ he asked, following her gaze.

She turned back to him, her grief softening. ‘I’m surprised you remember.’

‘How could I forget?’ He had accompanied her every year to lay flowers on her parents’ graves and sat beside her in the churchyard while she’d grieved.

* * *

Jasper studied Jane, wanting to drive away the strife clouding her eyes. He’d never seen her so weak or vulnerable but, like him, their time apart had changed her. She’d been cast aside by his brother, humiliated in front of everyone, then left to linger as a spinster. He wouldn’t treat her so shabbily, but she’d asked for an openness he couldn’t bestow, all the while having no idea what she was asking for. He couldn’t tell her about Mr and Mrs Robillard and risk her recoiling from him. Nor could he embroil her in the business of the hell and make her as dirty as him.

‘Well, Jasper?’ she prodded.

He might not be able to tell her everything about the hell or his past, but he could share his current situation with her—if not the worst parts of it, then certainly the best. He could help her to enjoy life the way he intended to after so much death and find a way to make sure the darkness never touched either of them again. He took her hand and met her steady gaze. ‘I don’t want you for mere convenience. I want you because you are my closest friend. I promise I will respect you as you deserve and be as open and honest with you as I can be.’

A hope he hadn’t seen in anyone, including himself, since well before the epidemic brightened her face. It lightened some of Jasper’s strain. In her innocence, she believed all would be well. With her beside him, perhaps it would be. ‘We must speak to Philip at once so he can make arrangements. I’m sure he won’t object.’

* * *

‘I do not give my consent.’

Jane stared at her brother, dumbfounded. Laura peered back and forth between the couple and her husband, as shocked as Jane. Jasper stood casually beside her, hands crossed in front of him, hat dangling from his fingers as if their future together wasn’t at risk. It irritated her more than it comforted her, adding to her annoyance at Philip’s answer.

‘What do you mean you don’t consent?’

Philip folded his hands over the blotter. ‘I have reason to doubt the veracity of Mr Charton’s interest in you.’

‘The veracity of his interest?’ She forced herself not to shift on her feet and to face him as she would a difficult butcher trying to overcharge her for poor-quality meat. She recognised this look; it was the one he used to give her whenever she’d ask to go to the milliner’s for a new dress. He’d always suspected her of choosing something much too adult for her young years, and he’d been right. At thirteen, almost everything she’d done had been to test him, to prove to everyone she was no longer a child but a young woman capable of making her own decisions. It had taken Mrs Hale’s gentle guidance to make her realise she was not yet an adult and there was no reason to look older simply to spite the world. However, she was an adult now and she wouldn’t cave under his scrutiny.

‘He did his best to dissuade you from a union yesterday and now he wishes for your hand. I want to know why,’ Philip explained to her, not Jasper.

‘He wasn’t against it. He was merely surprised by the way I went about discussing the matter. Even you said it was ill-advised.’ Her conceding the point didn’t ease the stern set of her brother’s jaw. ‘Since he’s had some time to consider it, he’s come to realise, as I have, we’re still good friends and it would be a perfect union. Don’t you agree?’ She took Jasper’s hand, demonstrating some affection, but careful not to overdo it. If she told Philip the two of them were madly in love, it would make him even more sceptical.

‘I do.’ The lightness in Jasper’s answer made her wonder if he realised how in danger of having their plans thwarted they stood. She might be over the legal age to marry, but they needed Philip to obtain a common licence and arrange the church, and anyway, she wanted his consent. She was going to have to lie about the true source of Jasper’s income, she didn’t wish also to sneak behind her brother’s back to the altar.

Philip eyed Jasper with hard scrutiny. ‘I’d like to speak with Mr Charton, alone.’

Jane threw Jasper a wary look, but he didn’t appear ruffled by the requested interview. Instead, he nodded to let her know all would be well. She hoped so. The idea of having yet another one of her plans fail irked her.

* * *

‘I can’t believe Philip is being so difficult,’ Jane complained to a sympathetic Laura when they were alone together in the front sitting room.

‘He’s doing what he believes best for you,’ Laura explained, despite the perplexed crease between her brows. Evidently, Philip’s behaviour baffled her, too. ‘He always has.’

‘I’ve decided what’s best for me and it’s Jasper.’ Jane dropped on to the sofa near the window.

Laura didn’t argue with her and Jane was almost disappointed. She craved a little vigorous debate. It wasn’t just Laura and Philip who were sceptical. She had her own doubts and they’d been nagging at her since they’d left the garden to speak with her brother. She wondered if there was anything about Jasper she should be concerned with. If there was, Philip was sure to sniff it out. Oh, how he irritated her; she wanted to rely on her own intuition and judgement and stop being dependent on his.

‘Mr Charton strikes me as a very charming and persuasive gentleman. I’m sure he’ll bring your brother around.’ Laura sat down beside her. ‘Though I do wonder how you two arranged all this in so short an amount of time.’

Jane stopped fiddling with the tassel on a pillow and stared at her sister-in-law. Do she and Philip know I slipped out with Jasper last night? No, it wasn’t possible. Philip’s men might be very astute and loyal to him, but they weren’t infallible, as Laura had proven when she’d crept in here. She hadn’t even had the advantage of Jane telling her the best way to do it. Since then, she’d won Philip’s heart and had helped him to move past the grief which had left him distant and closed off from everyone including, at times, her.

She wondered if she and Jasper might ever come to have a relationship like Philip and Laura’s. Love hadn’t been a part of their negotiations. Good. It was better if she never expected it as then she’d never be disappointed. Besides, she was too old to fantasise about romantic nonsense. Compatibility was more valuable than a passion, even if it dampened instead of ignited her heart. She’d believed in love once and maybe some small part of her still did. It didn’t matter. This was an excellent arrangement. She hoped Philip realised it, too. In the meantime, there was Laura’s scrutiny to address.

‘I chanced to meet Jasper while leaving Mrs Fairley’s yesterday afternoon. We had a very long discussion on the matter.’ It was a shady version of the truth, omitting the more scandalous details of his having slipped into her bedroom to spirit her away to a gambling hell in the middle of the night. She wondered if she should mention at least the leaving with him in the middle of the night part to force Philip’s hand. However, if he hadn’t marched her and Jasper up the aisle after the incident at the Chartons’, she doubted he’d insist on a marriage because of some late-night escapade. Philip was much too level-headed to act out of emotion, which further worried her about his conversation with Jasper. She hoped Jasper was managing well.

‘And what did you discuss with Mr Charton?’ Laura leaned forward in the same manner Mrs Hale used to do when she and Jane shared gossip. It was almost enough for Jane to drop her voice and tell her the truth, the way she used to with Laura’s mother. She missed the old intimacy, connection and friendship. It’d never come easy to Jane except with Mrs Hale, and Jasper, but not even they knew the darkest guilt she carried about her parents’ death, nor could she tell them about the hell. Jasper had sworn her to silence and she would be worthy of his faith in her.

‘We discussed his business and how I could help him with it.’ If Jasper was working to win Philip over, then Jane must do the same with Laura.

‘You two discussed business?’ Laura tilted her head in disbelief.

‘Your mother and Philip went to a great deal of time and trouble to teach me accounts, contracts and negotiations so I could some day help a husband manage his affairs. It’s time I finally put those skills to use instead of trimming roses and telling the housekeeper how to make sure the grocer doesn’t short-change us. I’m tired of being useless.’

This was as close to the truth of her and Jasper’s discussion as Jane was willing to venture.

‘I understand.’ Laura took Jane’s hand. ‘When my uncle sold my father’s draper shop and I was left with nothing to do every day, I almost went crazy. I was so accustomed to working, I couldn’t sit idle. I can only imagine how it’s been for you. I’m sorry I didn’t see it before or do more to help you.’

‘It isn’t your fault, it’s no one’s, except perhaps mine.’ Jane unclenched her fingers, wondering if she should have made an effort to speak with Laura sooner, but there were some things Jane couldn’t share with anyone. ‘Somehow, I’ve managed to drive good gentlemen, and one very bad one, away.’

Laura squeezed her hand. ‘Not at all. You’re simply discerning, like your brother, and you’ve been waiting for the right one. I think Mr Charton is perfect for you and I believe Philip will see it, too.’

Jane wasn’t as convinced of her desirability as Laura, nor of having been waiting for the right gentleman. If she had, it hadn’t been out of choice.

Footsteps in the hallway made them both rise and face the door. Philip entered first and Jane studied his face, searching for signs of an answer. The lines at the sides of his mouth were softer and the suspicious scrutiny previously hardening his blue eyes was gone.

Jasper convinced him!

Jasper strode in behind him as if his gambling house had received a massive win. He winked at her and Jane had to resist throwing her arms around his neck in congratulations. Instead, she returned the wink, blaming the racing of her heart on the thrill of them having succeeded. Though he would be her husband, she refused to view him as anything but a friend with more intimate benefits.

‘I give you both my consent to marry.’ Philip kissed her forehead in congratulation, as he used to when she was young and did well at her maths lessons, before she’d grown older and begun to rebel against him for reasons she still didn’t entirely understand. When he straightened, he took her hand and gave it to Jasper. ‘Mr Charton and I will speak tomorrow about drawing up the marriage contract and securing the common licence. You can wed as soon as the required seven days are past.’

Jane wondered what Jasper had said to convince Philip of the need for a quick marriage. With Milton, he’d insisted on a long engagement, giving Milton time to live up to Philip’s low expectations. Perhaps Philip now allowed the wedding to hurry because he was tired of looking after her and exhausted at having to talk sense into her. He was giving her to another man and relieving himself of the burden.

No, I shouldn’t be so uncharitable. Whatever her brother’s motives, there was no mistaking his tender expression, much like the one the elder Mr Charton sported whenever he mentioned his grandchildren. It eased a measure of her fears, as did Laura’s excitement.

‘Wonderful!’ Laura embraced Jane in congratulations. ‘You two will be very happy.’

Jane returned the hug and over Laura’s shoulder she caught Jasper’s eye. A strange awkwardness stiffened his movements as he shook Philip’s hand. She stepped away from Laura and Jasper let go of Philip. Jane and Jasper faced each other but his attention darted around the room with a tinge of uncertainty before he fixed on her. It was then the reason for his unease struck her. He might trust her with the secret of his gambling house, but there was another, darker one directly behind it, something to do with the things he couldn’t tell her about Savannah. It reminded her too much of Milton and how he’d managed to conceal his relationship with Miss Moseley. Worry dampened her enthusiasm. Once the parson’s mousetrap was sprung, they’d be stuck with one another for better or for worse. In her haste to change her situation, she wondered if she’d inadvertently made it worse.

* * *

Jasper sat at his desk in the warehouse office, dealing with an order for wine, but the memory of Jane continued to dominate his thoughts. Perceptive as always, she’d realised at once that they were going to be man and wife. She’d also caught his momentary doubt while he’d shaken Mr Rathbone’s hand. It had caused her to retreat into a reserve making her resemble her brother. He’d wanted to tell her his concerns had nothing to do with her and everything to do with him, but there hadn’t been a chance.

He slipped the ruby ring off his finger and turned it over and over. In Savannah, he’d spent years collecting money, property and influence, and in the end it had been worthless. In London it was different and yet it wasn’t. Money made the difference between having a proper life or doing without. All he needed to do was look at his footmen and dealers to see how wages had lifted them out of poverty and given them and their families the chance to thrive instead of merely subsist. Once Jasper had wed Jane, she would become his responsibility. If Jasper lost everything to some extremely lucky gambler, or if their families learned of the hell and turned their backs on them, it would be like Savannah all over again. Except, this time, there’d be no family or inheritance or collected goods to help him start over. They’d be ruined and he’d be the cause of it.

‘A right lucrative night last night, Mr Charton,’ Mr Bronson greeted Jasper as he entered the secret warehouse office. The older man drew out his vowels in the lazy way people from Savannah did. Jasper had found it amusing during his first year in the bustling port city, the easy manner of speech slipping into his own so that a few years into his apprenticeship his accent had become too garbled for anyone to guess where he was really from. It’d given him an air of mystery in Savannah, charming the ladies during garden parties at the big plantations. It had made him stand out here, too, as his seventeen-year-old twin brothers Giles and Jacob enjoyed teasing him about during family dinners. He’d struggled to lose the languid manner of speaking, but now he was snapping his vowels in place as day by day he left his time in the southern state behind. He wished his past and his concerns were so easily set aside. ‘What about Captain Christiansen. How did he do?’

‘Lost another five hundred pounds before we sent him home.’ Mr Bronson handed over the man’s signed debt, then dabbed his forehead with his red handkerchief, the warm room making him perspire.

Jasper slipped the ruby ring back on his finger as he examined Captain Christiansen’s name scrawled at the bottom of the paper. ‘Seems like more than a man who hasn’t taken a prize ship in a while can afford to lose.’

Mr Bronson strode to the window and slid up the sash. The cooler air laced with warmth from the coming summer spilled into the room. ‘Didn’t go quietly this time either, complained loudly about having a right to spend what he wants.’

‘Not in my establishment, especially if he’s going to make a scene. Scenes aren’t good for business.’ Jasper stared out the open window and the early morning sky dotted with thick clouds. The fresh air wasn’t refreshing so much as unsettling. ‘If he returns tonight, keep an eye on him. Hopefully, his current losses will encourage him to be more cautious with his play.’

‘And if they don’t?’

‘We may have to find a discreet way to bar him from the club. We don’t need Lord Fenton coming in here trying to redeem his son.’

Mr Bronson hooked his thumbs in his waistcoat pockets. ‘Don’t get y’all scraping to those sallow-faced men. Be better if you’d chucked them out like we Americans did.’

‘Some days I agree with you, but old habits are difficult to break.’ Jasper dusted his signature, then blew it off and handed Mr Bronson the papers.

‘Yes, they are.’ Mr Bronson rolled the debts in his hands. ‘How many old habits are you going to give up when you have a wife nosing about?’

‘None. She’ll simply accompany me to the jeweller’s and the theatre and help me enjoy my fine wine and food while working with me to establish the club.’ Jasper leaned back in his chair, far less cavalier than he appeared. Jasper had told his partner about his plans before he’d approached Jane and now silently agreed with him. Once Jasper and Jane were living together as man and wife, he’d have to balance what he told her about the hell with what he held back, giving her just enough to satisfy her interest while keeping her ignorant of all the goings on. It would mean more deception, but it was necessary. He couldn’t stand to have Jane spit on him like Mrs Robillard had when Jasper had approached her with his condolences. ‘Better to be a married man than risk becoming a recluse.’

‘You don’t need a wife to avoid that.’ Mr Bronson chuckled. ‘You have a cook and a housekeeper and more willing company in other corners to see after your needs.’

‘True, but how many of those paid people stayed around to help Uncle Patrick after he fell ill?’

‘We don’t have to worry about that here in London.’

Jasper touched the edge of the bills of mortality tucked beneath his blotter. ‘I hope not, but there are other tragedies capable of befalling a man and leaving him in need of someone with more interest in his affairs than payment to step in and handle them.’

‘I thought that’s what you had me for.’ Mr Bronson laughed. He removed a pouch of tobacco from his waistcoat pocket along with a clay pipe and began to pack the bowl with the fragrant weed.

‘I do, but relations are sometimes more reliable.’ Jasper wouldn’t fail Jane the way Mr Robillard had failed his wife. ‘I also know you Yanks. You’ll want your own establishment sooner rather than later, to make something of yourself, to be your own man.’

‘You are right, Mr Charton.’ Mr Bronson pointed the stem of the pipe at him before setting it between his teeth. ‘I’ll have to strike out before you expect me to take a missus.’

‘I wouldn’t dare temper your excursions into the West End by suggesting such a thing.’ Jasper waved his hand in the air to indicate the future. ‘At least not yet.’

Mr Bronson took a deep drag on his pipe, then let the smoke out of the side of his mouth. ‘Have you told her about Mrs Robillard?’

‘No.’ A breeze rustled the curtain, carrying into the room the faint scent of summer. Jasper rounded the desk and slammed the sash closed. ‘You’re not to tell her.’

‘You can trust me to keep silent. I’ve been where you are, what with my father, God rest him, being a preacher and railing on about the ills of drink and cards. He’d have starved before taking my money if he’d learned how I really earned it.’ Mr Bronson fingered the watch chain hanging in an arch from his pocket to where his father’s timepiece hung from a button. ‘No reason a lady has to hear about such ugliness.’

Mr Bronson touched the rolled debts to his forehead in a kind of salute, then turned on the heels of his fancy boots, the best his money could buy in London, and strode out of the room.

Jasper rested his hands on the back of one of the pair of shield-backed chairs near the window and took in the room. He should return to work. There was a great deal to be done now the Fleet Street building would be available, and Jane had given him new ideas, but he couldn’t. He stared at the fire burning in the grate. Summer was slowly descending on the city, bringing with it unknown threats. His hands were tight on the carved wood and the edge of the fancy decoration bit into his palms. Yellow Jack couldn’t touch him or anyone here, but it didn’t mean some other pestilence might not come in with the summer wind and snatch away what remained of his peace of mind. Except it wasn’t really disease he feared here as much as his own failings.

He left his office and entered the quiet of the gaming room. The smell of tobacco smoke, stale wine, sweat, hope and desperation hung thick in the air along with the dust motes. Everything had been set to rights, the chips stacked neatly at the tables, the packs of cards beside them fresh and ready to be opened by the dealers tonight. The Hazard wheel sat silent, too, the white balls lined up and waiting to click into place as men cheered and spent their money.

Jasper picked up a Hazard ball and rolled it between his fingers. He pitied many of the players, especially those like Captain Christiansen who rushed into forgetfulness through the cards. Jasper wondered what horrors Captain Christiansen had seen during his time at sea and if those memories drove him to recklessness the way they’d driven Jasper to return to this life.

He gripped the Hazard ball tight, his sins pressing down on him. There’d been many times before the epidemic when he’d begun to question this profession, but he’d ignored his doubts. Wealth, influence, standing, his uncle’s pride and his own had drowned out the voice of his conscience. Mr Robillard’s pistol shot had silenced the gaiety and left his conscience screaming. It still did and yet he’d come crawling back to this life the moment he’d set foot in England.

He set the ball down beside the others and, winding his way through the tables, left the gaming room, avoiding his reflection in the gilded mirror across the room. He didn’t have the stomach to face the real Jasper, the one he hid from Jane and everyone, the ugly crooked thing his uncle had made him and he’d willingly become.

He locked up the upstairs rooms and left through the main warehouse. In the cavernous space, employees he paid well to keep quiet among their dockworker brethren unloaded shipments of wines, cards, food and other goods for tonight. The activity made his establishment appear like all the others crawling with carts and horses, with drivers and men calling to one another to shift about the various merchandise coming and going. Outside, the rising sun just touched the peaked tops of the buildings. Soon it would be higher and cast light into the deep shadows between the warehouses, further tanning the already ruddy faces of the men streaming in and out of the district as they went about their morning work.

Usually the bustling activity invigorated Jasper, but not this morning. He was pulling Jane into the mire by asking her to keep this secret the way Uncle Patrick had asked him to keep his. How long until he corrupted her the way he’d been corrupted?

No, I won’t let that happen. They’d work hard on the club during the day, and he’d see to it they enjoyed themselves at night, both in town and in bed. She would remain ignorant of the true business of the hell until he could finally part with it.

‘You there, you scoundrel,’ a woman’s voice rang out, silencing a few of the workmen stomping past Jasper, their backs bent under the weight of the casks they carried. ‘I’ll have a word with you.’

Jasper faced the woman barrelling down on him the way Mrs Robillard had approached him once. Her clothes were too worn to make her a merchant’s wife, but the reticule weighed down by something heavy swinging by her thick hips set him on edge.

‘If you think I’m going to allow you to ruin my son the way my husband ruined himself, you are wrong.’ She jerked up the reticule and stuffed her hand inside. The memory of Mrs Sullivan pulling a gun on him the night she’d lost her prized diamond at a dice game rocked him. Mrs Sullivan had missed.

He didn’t wait to see if this woman’s aim was any better, but closed the distance between them. ‘How can I help you, madam?’

He offered her a hearty smile, the one he once employed with planters and their wives as he placed his hand on her wrist to stop her from removing whatever weighed down her reticule.

‘Let go of me, you wicked man.’ She jerked free of him and her hand came out of the bag empty. She was oblivious to the many workers taking an interest in the conversation. Jasper needed to quiet her and quickly. He didn’t possess enough money to silence them all.

‘Please, step inside my warehouse and we can speak.’

‘We can speak here. You think I don’t know what you’re getting up to in this place?’ she screeched. ‘I’ve seen the money Adam comes home with and I know there’s only one way he be can be earning it.’

At last he understood who the woman was and how to deal with her. He stepped closer and dropped his voice, painfully aware of the men around him leaning against crates while they pretended not to listen. ‘Adam is my employee, not a client, and a very well-paid one because I trust him to remain quiet about my business, as I’m sure I can trust you, too.’

He reached into his pocket and plucked out a banknote. He didn’t look to see the value before he took her hand and pressed it into her palm. She closed her fingers on the note and tugged it out of his grip. Then she opened the crumpled paper and her light eyebrows rose with surprise. Everything about her demeanour changed as she shoved the money inside her bodice.

‘I understand completely, sir. I’m so sorry if I misunderstood, only his father was a gambler, and a drinker, and all but ruined us, forcing us from our home and into the filth of St Giles.’ Tears filled her eyes and she wiped them away with the sleeve of her faded dress. ‘When Adam started going out at night and coming home with money, I worried he was turning out like his father. I followed him here last night, heard the men talking about their wagers and I thought for sure I’d lost him.’

‘Your son is one of my best footmen.’ Jasper wrapped his arm around her thin shoulders. ‘But if the wrong people find out about this place and shut it down, he’ll lose his good wages.’

She peered up at him with round and worried eyes before her gaze darted to the watching men as she realised her mistake. ‘I won’t tell anyone. You can count on me. His wages keep me and his sisters from starving and allowed us to move out of St Giles. I assure you, I wouldn’t knowingly do anything to jeopardise this place, Mr...?’

‘Patrick,’ he lied. She knew too much already.

‘Mr Patrick. Thank you for all you’ve done for him. I’m so sorry for thinking so little of you.’ She kissed the back of his hand, grateful in a way he didn’t deserve. He smiled and accepted it despite the urge to climb in the carriage and be alone with his shame. When at last she took her leave, hurrying off even faster than she’d approached, Jasper strolled to his carriage to appear to all as if nothing was amiss and give no one a reason to consider the matter.

The men went back to their work and Jasper stepped into his carriage. Once inside, the vehicle set off and he sagged against the squabs, breathing for what seemed like the first time in days. ‘It’s all right.’

Except it wasn’t. There’d been a moment when he’d feared her accusations would rise and the woman would announce to the entire wharf what took place above stairs at night. If too many people learned of it, then it would only be a matter of time before word spread and he could no longer keep this place a secret from his family. They’d already put him on a ship once and sent him off believing they’d never see him again. To be in London and banished from their circle would be worse, especially if he dragged Jane down with him.

The carriage rocked to a stop in front of the Charton house. Jasper climbed out and jogged up to the front door, hoping no one was about. He needed peace to think and cursed again the repairs to the town house. When he’d first arrived home, the noise of his nieces and nephews, the talk of his parents and the continued comings and goings of his sibling had been a welcome relief after the deathly still of Savannah. Today, they would be an annoyance.

‘Is everything all right, sir?’ Alton, the butler, asked when he pulled open the front door. The thin man with the wide nose had been with the family since Jasper was a little boy. He knew Jasper as well as his old nurse, forcing Jasper to lie to him the way he lied to everyone else.

‘Yes, thank you.’ He made for the stairs, eager to reach the solitude of his room before anyone else noticed he was home. He didn’t make it.

His mother came out of the front sitting room, concern furrowing her brow at the sight of him. ‘Jasper, you seem troubled. Is anything wrong? Perhaps something you’d like to discuss with me about your evenings?’

She studied him the way she had when he was a boy and she used to summon him to her dressing room to interrogate him about what he’d been up to in the street. The vague notion she might know about the hell drifted through his mind before he dismissed it. If she had learned of it, she’d never be this coy in approaching him about it.

‘No, nothing.’ Jasper flashed the widest smile he could muster, feeling like a fool and a charlatan. But they were the ones who’d sent him away to learn his uncle’s trade, even if they’d been ignorant of what it’d really involved. With all the subtlety and finesse of a fifteen-year-old, he’d railed at them for their decision and done everything he could to make them change their minds. They’d remained firm in spite of their own doubts and love for him, believing Uncle Patrick would provide their second son with the best opportunity to make something of himself.

His tension softened as he took in his mother’s concerned face. They hadn’t known the truth and they still didn’t. If they ever learned about it, their guilt would be as great as his. They’d done what they’d thought best for him. Now, he would do what he thought best for them by allowing them to remain ignorant of the real consequences of their decisions and his. ‘I’m fine. I had trouble sleeping again last night.’

‘The dreams again?’

‘Yes.’ It was the reason he’d been giving for weeks to explain his long nights out. There had truly been nightmares when he’d first come home, but now they’d faded. Sadly, his need to use the excuse had not. ‘After I woke up, I went to the theatre, and then to Mr Bronson’s. I needed to be around people and I didn’t want to disturb anyone here.’

‘Of course,’ his mother agreed with some hesitation. Then she reached up and took him by the chin, turning his face side to side to examine him. ‘You look like you did when you first came home.’

He knew exactly what she meant. It was the reason they’d given him three months of peace before announcing his return. ‘I haven’t been sleeping well.’

His mother removed her hands from his face and clasped them in front of her. ‘I think Jane will be good for you. She’ll help you to deal with many things and perhaps forget some of your old experiences.’

Jane. He glanced at the side table in the entrance hall and the blue German glass pitcher the same deep azure as her eyes. It wasn’t only the risk of discovery he’d faced today, but the very real threat of violence. If Adam’s mother had had the chance to remove the pistol weighing down her bag, and Jasper and Jane had already wed, Jane might be a widow and left to deal with the revelations about Jasper and his club. He had too much honour to foist his embarrassments and troubles off on someone else the way Mr Robillard had done. ‘I must see her this morning. There are matters we need to discuss.’

‘Of course.’ His mother patted his hand. ‘Be good to her, Jasper. She deserves it and you deserve her care.’

‘Yes, she deserves the best.’ Sadly, it wasn’t him.

Jasper removed his hand from hers and made for outside, refusing to hail a hack or summon the carriage again. He needed the brisk walk as he made for St Bride’s Lane.

The surety with which he’d pledged himself to Jane began to dim in the bright daylight. He’d had doubts once about what he did in Savannah and he’d ignored them, blithely carrying on until they had destroyed people. That had garnered his attention. He’d had reservations about bringing Jane into this sphere, but he’d ignored them, too, insisting the best course of action was to link her life with his. This morning’s encounter made him doubt his decision. It was one thing to burden her conscience with a few of his secrets. It was another to place her in real danger or set her up for potential embarrassment the way Milton had done. He couldn’t allow Jane to be hurt.

* * *

It wasn’t long before Jasper reached the junction of St Bride’s Lane and Fleet Street. He stopped at the opening of the lane. It was calm compared to the bustle of the main thoroughfare. He should keep walking, go to his town house and make sure all was on course with the repair work to welcome them after the wedding, but his feet wouldn’t move. With the practised skill of a man always betting against others, he weighed his risks against the odds. Leaving her now would certainly hurt her and turn her against him for good. The risks of his lifestyle were less clear, but potentially more deadly. He didn’t want to deliberately hurt her, but he didn’t want to see her wounded because of his more illicit life. Perhaps, if she understood something of the danger, at least as much as he was capable of telling her, she might help him decide. It was a gamble he didn’t wish to take, but he couldn’t ignore his intuition this time.

* * *

A sick feeling swam in the pit of Jane’s stomach as she faced Jasper. Until this moment, his unexpected appearance had been a welcome distraction from drawing up guest lists, breakfast menus and packing her things. He hadn’t smiled once since he’d arrived, nor cracked a joke or made light of anything. It was eerily similar to the way Milton had approached her the morning before he’d eloped.

‘What exactly are you trying to say?’ Fear tightened her throat. He’s going to call it off. No, if he’d changed his mind he would have sent a note instead of coming here himself. It was slim comfort. There was a reason he was standing here viewing her as if he’d already lost her.

‘I want to make sure you understand fully what we’re about to do, including the potential dangers. It’s something we may have overlooked in our rush to wed.’ He glanced past her to make sure no one was eavesdropping. Then he shifted closer and dropped his voice. ‘Not every player loses. There’s a very real chance someone could win and bankrupt us, or a cheater I unmask might lash out at me or you. You must be sure this is the kind of life you want.’

He’s trying to get me to cry off. She certainly would not. If she had to club him over the head and drag him up the aisle to ensure he said his vows, she would. She wouldn’t be humiliated in front of the Fleet Street community again. ‘After a lifetime of living here, having been in the house the night Laura’s uncle tried to kill her, I’m well aware of the risks involved in dealing with money and people.’

‘I don’t doubt you can handle any challenge our life together might create.’ His words were light, but there was no missing the deep furrow marring his brow, or his insistence in pressing on. She might not be willing to end things, but it didn’t mean he wouldn’t. ‘But we can’t be so lax about it or the realities of our situations.’

‘Which are?’

He hesitated before he answered. ‘The danger aligning yourself with me might put you in.’

She waited, bracing herself in anticipation of the words she expected to follow and end everything. Outside, her niece’s and nephews’ high voices rang out, tensing Jane’s already tight nerves, but still Jasper didn’t speak.

Don’t do it, please, don’t turn away from me. Her cheeks burned with her silent shame until she was sure they were the same red as her velvet dress. She didn’t want to beg or to be this weak in front of him, but his pulling back cut deeper than when Mrs Hale had moved away. He’d promised to create a life, home and business with her. They weren’t even married and he was already reneging on his word.

‘What’s really wrong, Jasper, please tell me?’

* * *

Jane studied Jasper with the same pleading look as the men who approached Mr Bronson in search of more credit. Her desperation cut him because he’d caused it. Instead of waiting and better thinking things through, he’d come here in a panic and created a doubt which hadn’t existed before and it had hurt her.

Down the hall, the back door leading from the garden squeaked opened. The Rathbone children’s footsteps rang through the house, accompanied by their high voices as they called to one another. It echoed with the sound of his childhood when he and Milton used to tear through the same door and race upstairs to find Jane and bring her out to play. He especially remembered the months after her parents’ deaths when he’d come here to fetch her, eager to see his heartbroken friend smile again. Those days were gone, but Jane was here with him, as beautiful and trusting as back then. He couldn’t throw her over the way his brother had. If she’d set her mind to facing all challenges with him—and Heaven knew after living with Philip Rathbone she was the best woman to do it—he couldn’t push her away. He would find a way to keep her safe.

He pulled her to him and clutched her tight against his chest. Resting his chin on her smooth hair, he inhaled her gardenia scent and allowed it to soothe his concerns. ‘Forgive me. I didn’t mean to startle you with my visit. I just wanted to make sure you were completely aware of what marrying me means.’

She relaxed against him with a sigh of relief and slid her arms around his waist. ‘Of course I’m aware of it. Despite it all, I still want to be your wife and work with you.’

‘And you will.’

She leaned back but didn’t pull away, her usual exuberance colouring her cheeks with a pink more alluring than the shameful red he’d brought to them a few minutes before, the weight of her as natural in his arms as his coat on his shoulders. ‘Philip spoke to Reverend Claire this morning. It’s all set for Friday at eleven o’clock, the soonest we could do it given the seven-day wait. The Reverend was stunned when he found out I’m marrying you. I’m surprised he didn’t look up the rules of consanguinity to make sure it’s all right for a woman to marry her former fiancé’s brother.’

Jasper laughed, the first genuine one he’d enjoyed in ages. This was how it had always been between them and this was how it would continue. He’d make sure of it. ‘I don’t think he’s so medieval.’

‘I hope not for I have no desire to appeal to the Archbishop for a dispensation.’

He softly cuffed her under her chin. ‘We could always elope and stun a few more people.’

‘And deny everyone in the Fleet the chance to come and gawk? Heavens, no. I want them to be there when we see this betrothal through. And we will.’ Her warning was clear. She would make him live up to his promise.

‘Yes, we will.’ He took her hand and brought it to rest over his heart. Her pulse flickered in each fingertip against his as he drank in her wide blue eyes and the full lips which were parted in anticipation. She wasn’t just his greatest friend; she was about to be his wife. At fifteen, he’d longed for this, but he’d hesitated to tell her for fear she’d laugh at him. Then the night of his farewell party, with the single candle in the study making her eyes sparkle, she’d vowed to wait for his return. The missed opportunity had crushed him. It wasn’t only his family he’d been exiled from, but a future with her. It was why he’d denied any feelings other than friendship and why he hadn’t written despite dreaming of her. He’d been too angry over the chances stolen from him.

But they hadn’t been stolen, only delayed.

The old bitterness faded under the soft pressure of her fingertips on the back of his neck and her stomach against his as he leaned down to press his lips to hers. A charge of passion arched between them, driving away his exhaustion and worry, and invigorating him like nothing since before the dreaded summer in Savannah. In her arms, the future surrounded him and he wanted to embrace it as he did her. With her help, he’d build a new life and at last bury the old one. He’d finally leave Savannah behind and Jane would be there to help him do it.