Читать книгу Historical Romance May 2017 Books 1 - 4 - Bronwyn Scott - Страница 15

Chapter Five

‘Are you sure you want to wear this dress?’ Mrs Fairley, the blonde modiste, asked as she laid the silk creation across the back of the chaise in her fitting room. The modiste had sewn this dress for Jane’s wedding to Milton, making it the only one she could have ready before Friday. Jane had insisted Mrs Fairley keep it, determined to wear it to the next Charton party and give Milton a taste of what he’d rejected. When the opportunity had finally arisen, Mrs Fairley had talked her out of her revenge, making Jane realise she’d only embarrass herself.

‘Yes, I’m going to wear it.’ After Jasper’s visit this morning, Jane didn’t want to waste money on a new gown she might not use. If this one didn’t make it to the altar she’d sell it in Petticoat Lane herself instead of allowing it to moulder here like some shed skin. Then she’d use the money to buy a dog.

‘Let’s see it on you.’ Mrs Fairley helped her pull on the dress, then ushered her up on to the stool. The cream-silk skirt brushed the tops of Jane’s stocking-clad feet, the intricate embroidery of the interlaced diamonds decorating the hem and weighing it down. Blue-and-silver embroidered flowers coloured the bodice and set off her blue eyes. The dress was stunning, despite its past, and she craved the chance to wear it, at last to be a bride instead of a cast-off spinster—assuming Jasper intended to go through with the wedding.

‘Are you excited about the marriage?’ Mrs Fairley asked as she knelt to examine the hem.

‘Yes.’

‘But?’

Jane fingered a bit of lace. After this morning, she needed to speak with someone, and Mrs Fairley had always been discreet, even back when Philip had been the one paying her bills. ‘I’m worried about Jasper. He was acting strange this morning.’

She explained about Jasper’s visit and how sure she’d been that he would break the betrothal. What she didn’t say was how, while she’d waited for him to do it, it had reminded her of sitting beside her mother’s bed when she was six and begging for her to forgive her for being naughty, begging her not to leave. Jane bit her tongue, refusing to cry. She’d made so many promises during her parents’ illnesses, vowing never again to disobey them and apologising over and over for slipping off to the fair against their wishes and bringing the fever into the house. In the end, her promises hadn’t made a difference, neither had Milton’s. There was nothing to make Jasper honour his.

‘Do you think there is another woman?’ Mrs Fairley asked as she slipped a pin in the hem.

Jane took a deep breath, the silk sliding up and over her chest before settling back into place. ‘I don’t think so, but it seems I’m the last to realise when a man takes a paramour. Besides, he hasn’t been back in London long enough and there’s nothing stopping him from marrying whoever he wants.’

‘He wants to marry you.’

Jane touched her lips with the tips of her fingers. His kiss this morning had surprised her as much as the one in his bedroom. Despite having seen it coming, she hadn’t expected the force of it. She’d leaned in to Jasper, savouring the tender pressure of his mouth against hers. In the salty taste of him there had lingered more than a deal or mere friendship and convenience; there had been the tantalising hint of a deeper connection. When he’d pulled back, she thought she’d seen the same realisation in his eyes but his smile and quick wit had covered it, making her wonder if she’d imagined it. Jane took another deep breath, almost afraid to say the next words aloud but they’d been boiling inside her since he’d left. ‘I’m no longer sure he does.’

‘I assume your brother approved the marriage?’ Mrs Fairley knew Philip well. He’d loaned her the money to establish her shop after her husband had been wounded in France. She’d done a great deal of business with his family and friends ever since.

‘He did.’

‘Then take his consent as proof of your good judgement.’

‘What if he’s wrong this time?’ Buying a building on a whim was one thing, but a marriage was entirely different. Once they were wed, Jasper, as her husband, would control her money, property and everything else. She doubted he’d act like a tyrant, but the darkness in his eyes when he’d first arrived at her house made her uneasy. She didn’t want to marry him only to find out he wasn’t the carefree friend she adored but someone else, a stranger she knew nothing about. ‘What if I’m rushing into something I can’t undo?’

‘You wouldn’t be the first Rathbone to do so, would you?’ Mrs Fairley teased.

Philip and Laura had hurried to the altar and in the end found love. Jane wasn’t convinced her haste would be rewarded nor was she willing to hope for such a happy outcome. Love had not been a part of their negotiations. ‘Maybe Philip approved the match because he thinks it’s his last chance to get rid of me?’ The idea Philip had finally lost faith in her made her tremble.

Mrs Fairley stood. ‘Mr Rathbone would never do anything not in your best interest. He loves you too much.’

Jane tried to believe it, but after having so many people leave her it was difficult to think her brother wouldn’t do it, too, some day.

Mrs Fairley laid her hands on Jane’s shoulders, squeezing them to ease the tension. ‘Maybe it’s not you Mr Charton doubts, but himself. Maybe he doesn’t believe he’s worthy of you.’

If so, he’d certainly be the first. ‘Not Jasper. He’s always been so sure of himself.’

‘You think you know him, but I imagine, given your time apart, there’s still a great deal for you to learn.’ Mrs Fairley said it as though the discovery would be a grand adventure.

Jane wasn’t so sure. Mrs Fairley was right, she didn’t know Jasper as well as she believed, and she was making decisions based on nostalgia and desperation instead of reality. She didn’t want another engagement to end, but marriage was the most binding of contracts. If she got it wrong, it might ruin her life more than it helped it. She twisted her hands in front of her, hating this uncertainty. There was only one way to face it. She must see Jasper again and put her doubts and his to rest.

* * *

‘I hear you had a bit of an odd encounter with Adam’s mother today,’ Mr Bronson observed as he touched a burning reed to the bowl of his pipe and inhaled.

Jasper signed a paper, then set it aside to study his partner. ‘Who told you about it?’

‘He did, apologising the entire time. Thought I’d talk to you about what you want to do about it. Can’t have her getting hysterical in public again.’

‘There’s nothing to be done. Tell him we spoke and make it clear he needs to ensure her silence. Then we forget the matter.’ He wouldn’t see Adam’s siblings suffer from the loss of their brother’s wages because of his mother any more than he could have abandoned Jane this morning. He set his pen in the elaborate holder, still cursing his foolishness. In the future, he’d have to be more careful about keeping his concerns regarding the hell to himself. ‘Is Captain Christiansen here?’

‘He is, but he isn’t playing too deep, at least not yet. He’s only had one or two drinks and the night is still young. However, there’s the son of a cheesemonger in there with a fever to his play I don’t like.’

‘Yes, I saw the man’s debts from last night. Cut him off when you go back inside and tell him he’s banned from the club. Let him ruin himself elsewhere.’ The Captain he would tolerate, but not the cheesemonger’s son. The man didn’t possess enough business knowledge to make his presence here of any value.

‘You really going to give this up?’ Mr Bronson waved at the office.

‘When it’s feasible. I’ll turn ownership over to you and retain a percentage of the profits.’ He picked up the wine order and added a few bottles of Spanish wine to it. Mr Portland, who owned a good many stocks, was more willing to speak to others about them after a few glasses of the tart liquor.

‘Ah, so the answer is yes, and no.’ Mr Bronson circled his pipe stem in the air.

‘I can’t afford to lose the income, not with a wife to support.’ And the money he needed to send to Mrs Robillard and pay for his workers’ wages.

‘Probably children, too, they have a way of coming along.’

‘I won’t see them go without if the club isn’t as lucrative as I hoped.’ Rapacious hunger, and the filth and horror of disease had seized him once. He’d vowed never to become poor and end up in Seven Dials with the twin evils plaguing him or those he cared for again.

‘Does your wife-to-be know this?’ He set the pipe between his teeth.

‘Not yet.’ With her accounting skills, he knew he couldn’t keep this detail from her or hide the transactions regarding Mrs Robillard for ever.

‘Don’t see why you need to tell her at all. A woman shouldn’t be involved in a man’s business.’

‘I don’t agree.’ Except he did. Jane would have as large a hand as she wanted in the club and his life, but he would not allow her to be entangled in the business of the hell, or his past.

* * *

‘For a man with so much to do you certainly sleep late.’ The melodious female voice carried over the quiet of Jasper’s bedroom, drawing him out of a deep sleep.

He opened his eyes, straining to see through the darkness cast by the heavy curtains covering the windows.

A little light sparked and then met the wick of a candle. It illuminated Jane’s round face while she carried it from the hearth and set it on the table beside his bed.

‘What are you doing in here?’ He picked up the ornate dolphin clock next to the candle and peered at the hands. One-thirty. He didn’t usually sleep this late. It explained the fatigue sticking to him like mud.

‘I came to fetch you to visit the building on Fleet Street. I didn’t expect to find you still in bed.’ She stood over him like his mother used to do, more tempting than scolding with the glint of mischief in her azure eyes.

Jasper pushed himself up and leaned back against the stuffed pillows, trying to shake off his weariness. ‘How did you sneak past my parents?’

‘I didn’t sneak. I came in through the front door. Your mother was the one who sent me up. Since we’re betrothed and a date is set it seems she is no longer scandalised by the idea of my seeing you déshabillé.’

‘So I see.’ His mother possessed a practical sense of things.

‘Even if she hadn’t told me to come in here, your father’s security is so lax it’s a wonder the thieves of London aren’t parading through the sitting room every day helping themselves to their things, and yours, though I’m not sure who’d want your things.’ She picked up the clock, wrinkling her nose at the overly ornate gilding on the case before she set it back down. ‘Your decor will have to change once we’re married.’

‘I look forward to it.’ And to more intimate time in the bedroom with her. The memory of her lips beneath his made him trill his fingers on the cool sheets, eager to touch her silken hair and a few other soft and enticing places. He crossed his hands on his stomach. Temptation was dangerous, as he’d discovered in Savannah, but he’d be a liar if he said he’d never been tempted by Jane. At fifteen, despite their long friendship, salacious thoughts of her had cost him many a goodnight’s sleep. He could imagine what his fifteen-year-old self would say if he knew he was days away from experiencing one of the many fantasies he’d concocted about her in the middle of the night.

‘So, what, or should I say who, kept you up so late last night?’ she asked in a crisp voice. There was no missing the jealousy flavouring her question or the true intention of this visit. She’s here to make sure I uphold my end of the contract. Her brother had taught her well.

‘I was quite free of female company if that’s what you’re getting at.’ He ran his hands through his hair, determined to prove himself and make her forget yesterday’s misstep. ‘But if you’d like to keep me awake tonight, I wouldn’t protest.’

Her eyes dropped to his chest, then lower down to another muscle hidden beneath the coverlet. ‘I’m keeping you awake right now.’

‘Indeed, you are.’ He laced his fingers behind his head. ‘Anything in particular you’d like to do about it?’

‘Not this morning.’ The faint hint of pink colouring her cheeks undermined her courage. It increased his desire to pull her into bed and teach her something, but he didn’t. He doubted his mother was so open-minded when it came to their betrothal.

It was time to get down to less pleasurable business. ‘What about the Fleet Street building do you wish to discuss?’

She rose, plucked his discarded Jermyn Street shirt off the foot of the bed and flung it at him. ‘Get up and we will visit it together and I’ll tell you.’

* * *

‘I’ve given a great deal of thought to the food we’ll offer here,’ Jane announced while they stood in the entry hall of the musty building. It had been closed up for weeks and the remnants of tobacco and shattered clay pipes lay scattered across the unpolished floor.

‘Shouldn’t we consider the condition first?’ He wiped a line of dust off the dull banister. In the midst of their dirty surroundings, Jane dazzled in her fitted blue pelisse with the stiff collar brushing the slant of her delicate chin. The hint of the cream dress beneath, and the smooth skin of her chest visible at the open V, made concentrating on work a challenge.

‘I did, right after I purchased it. My builder assures me it’s sound and, with little more than some cleaning and paint, we can open as soon as everything else is in place. Tell me which rooms you intend to use for what activities and I’ll start gathering the necessary items.’

He motioned with his hat to the front window overlooking Fleet Street, determined to think about the club and not the subtle hint of her curving hips beneath her long skirt. ‘We’ll offer cigars and wine in there. The back room will be a lounge.’

‘And upstairs?’

‘Private rooms for men to conduct confidential business.’

She crossed her arms under her full breasts. ‘What kind of confidential business?’

‘The business kind of business.’ He took her hand and slid his other around her waist. Her eyes widened when he snapped her close, her chest catching like his before his wink drew out her smile. Then he waltzed her into the dining room before spinning her out so her skirts flared around her ankles. He let go of her, sending her whirling gracefully across the empty room. ‘Do you think we should offer dancing?’

‘Certainly not. We don’t want to distract men from spending money.’ She pressed one hand to her chest and struggled to speak through her giggles. The collusion making her eyes flash reminded him of when they used to sneak out to Club Row Market to feed the puppies for sale before their owners caught them. ‘But we’ll serve better fare than what they’re used to and give them a reason to bring clients here instead of dining at home.’

‘Good idea. I’ll leave it to you to choose the chef and the menu since you’re more acquainted with London tastes than I am.’ He spun his hat between his hands, picturing the room full of tables covered with white linen and fine port and beef with men discussing contracts and trade. Jasper would stand proud among them instead of skulking in the shadows of night. His only ties to the hell would be the money which would continue to come in and protect them from the prospect of poverty.

‘I already have an idea for a special cheese, a delicacy to tempt them. We must also choose the decor. This must look like a respectable place of business, not a colonial bordello.’ She slid him a teasing look before turning her attention to the dining room. ‘You can close the hell at once and sell its contents to pay for what we need here.’

Jasper tightened his grip on his hat, denting the brim before he released it. ‘I can’t.’

She whirled to face him, shoulders set for a fight. ‘Why not? I thought you wanted to leave it behind.’

‘I do, but I owe it to Mr Bronson to offer it to him before I depart. I can’t do it as a gutted shell.’

She narrowed her eyes at him as if wanting to say she didn’t entirely believe his intention to give it to a friend instead of closing it outright. ‘Have you spoken to him to see if he even wants it?’

‘I have and he does.’ At least this was the truth.

‘And will you be keeping a share of its profits?’

Damn, she was too intuitive. He wasn’t ready to have this conversation, but there was no avoiding it now. ‘Yes.’

‘You can’t expect to clear your conscience with a toe in each world.’

‘I can’t risk us going broke if the club fails either.’ He wouldn’t have them burning through his money and hers in an effort to stay out of debtors’ prison.

‘It won’t fail. We won’t let it, especially if our livelihoods depend on it.’

He didn’t share her confidence, not after all the times he’d seen men go from wealthy to broke with one turn of the cards. His silence dimmed her optimism.

‘We will be able to attract enough patrons to support the club and us, won’t we?’ Jane picked at the button on her glove in a rare moment of self-doubt and it struck Jasper hard. It wasn’t like her to question her plans.

‘We will. Mr Bronson will spread the word among our guests, especially the more influential ones. We’ll offer them a special membership, entice them into joining and others will follow. It always worked in Savannah.’

‘Did it now?’

‘Attracting patrons is the one other skill Uncle Patrick taught me that I excelled at. How do you think I drew men to the Company Gaming Room so fast?’ The sense of accomplishment he used to experience on nights when every chair at every table was filled and a crowd two or three deep stood behind them gripped him. He should be ashamed, not proud. The one consolation was realising he’d soon put some of what he’d learned to reputable use.

‘Then I have no doubt we’ll be successful in London.’

Her faith in him was touching if not disconcerting. His uncle had believed in him and he’d let him down. He wondered how long it would be until she and all the others, both here and in America, who relied on him, suffered the same disappointment.

‘Hello?’ Mr Bronson called out, breaking the quiet between Jasper and Jane. ‘Anyone here?’

‘In the dining room.’ Jasper turned as his associate strolled into the dining room. ‘We were just talking about you. I was telling Miss Rathbone what an excellent partner you are.’

‘So exceptional, I brought you last night’s take.’ He handed Jasper a leather folder full of banknotes.

‘Thank you, but how did you find me here?’

‘I went by your house and they told me you were here.’ This wasn’t the first time Mr Bronson had gone searching for him at the Charton house. He’d met Jasper’s family shortly after their return and during the many times he’d collected Jasper on the pretext of other business while they’d been establishing the Company Gaming Rooms.

Jasper tucked the folio under his arm and drew Jane to his side. ‘Miss Rathbone, allow me to introduce my associate, Mr Gabriel Bronson.’

‘A pleasure to meet you.’ Mr Bronson swept off his hat and folded into a deep bow.

Jane curtsied, then rose with an impish smile. ‘Quite an angelic name for a gambler?’

‘My father was a preacher.’ Mr Bronson set his hat on his head and hooked his thumbs in his waistcoat pocket. ‘Tried to redeem me before I was even a man. Didn’t realise I was already lost.’

‘And what about Jasper, how lost was he in Savannah? He’s told me so little of it. I want to know what he was like there.’

Mr Bronson exchanged a wary glance with Jasper. ‘There isn’t really much to tell. It’s not so different here than it was there. He still enjoyed the finer things like clothes, and wines, but he had to come to London to find the finest fiancée.’

To Jasper’s amazement, Jane blushed. ‘I don’t believe you. There must have been something different about him there.’

Mr Bronson took his tobacco pouch out of his pocket and swung it in a small circle in front of him. ‘Well, Jasper did attend the theatre more and of course there was the gaming room.’ He described to Jane the gaming room in all its glittering and gaudy splendour and Jasper’s and Uncle Patrick’s place in it, trips to the theatre and parties at the finest Savannah homes with the mayor and other influential men. Jasper could barely recall the lively and carefree man he used to be before the epidemic, the one he could be again with Jane by his side.

‘I didn’t realise Jasper was so influential in Savannah, or how wide a swathe he cut through high society,’ Jane remarked with amusement when Mr Bronson finished his tale.

Jasper shook his head. ‘It wasn’t as impressive as he’s making it sound.’

‘Or you’re being modest.’

‘He’s right Miss Rathbone, I might have embellished a little, but I want you to think well of your husband-to-be.’

‘Will you be at the wedding, Mr Bronson?’ Jane asked.

‘No. I don’t fancy formal events, but I wish you all the best, Miss Rathbone. You’ve found a fine man in Jasper.’ He slapped Jasper on the back. ‘Now, if you’ll excuse me, my bed is calling.’

With another imperial bow he took his leave.

‘For a rake he’s a charming man. I see why you chose him to be the face of your gaming room,’ Jane observed once he was gone. ‘And you’re right. It wouldn’t be fair to sell it out from under him. I’ll use my money to purchase the necessary furniture and accoutrements.’

‘No, I have ample funds for it. I’ll advance them to you and you can purchase what you need with them. I’ll also give you free rein on contracts and spending once we’re married, sooner if you’d like. We can visit my solicitor, Mr Steed, tomorrow and make all the necessary arrangements.’

‘Yes, I want everything to be in place so I can begin at once and, while the hell is still yours, make sure the two of you promote the benefits of our club,’ Jane added.

‘We’ve already begun. I can also sell what’s still in the warehouse since I’m sure you have no desire to see it installed in our house.’ He came up to her and placed his arms around her waist, holding her as naturally as he breathed.

‘You’re right. I have no desire to decorate like the Sun King.’

‘Too bad, the bed in the warehouse is quite sturdy.’ He pulled her tighter against him.

She laid her hands on his shoulder and playfully peered up at him. ‘Is it, now?’

He brought his mouth so close to her ear, his lips brushed the lobe as he whispered, ‘Very.’

She shivered and he closed his eyes, nearly groaning at the sweetness of her response.

‘Then perhaps we can keep the one piece.’ She ran her finger along the lapel of his coat, the gesture as tempting as it was subtle.

He was about to accept the silent invitation in her eyes and touch his lips to hers when the bells of St Bride’s Church rang out and Jane jerked back. ‘Oh, we have another appointment.’

He brushed her neck with his lips. ‘Are you sure you want to go?’

She pushed him out to arm’s length, the businesswoman in her winning out over the vixen. ‘We aren’t married yet and there’s a cheesemonger expecting us.’

* * *

A half hour later they stood in Mr Stilton’s shop, sampling a variety of cheddar like none they’d ever tasted before. It was difficult for Jane to concentrate on the tang of the cheese with the taste of Jasper still so sharp. He wore a fawn-coloured coat over a dark waistcoat. Both were tailored to fit his firm chest and offer a hint of what she’d seen the other morning. In the carriage on the way here, she’d considered tempting him into another peek, but had refrained. She’d been audacious enough in her proposal, she didn’t wish to appear like a harlot or ruin the delights of the wedding night with her impatience.

‘What do you think?’ She licked a crumb off her lip, subtle in her teasing, aware of Mr Stilton watching them.

‘It’s a true temptation to the palate.’ The potency in Jasper’s eyes stole any suggestive responses from her tongue. Flirting didn’t come naturally to her, except when she was with him.

‘I sell this variety to some of the most important men in London.’ Mr Stilton rocked on his heels in pride, his soft chin raised.

‘An excellent angle for marketing it to our clients, at a mark-up, of course,’ Jane suggested to Jasper.

‘Of course.’

Jane fell silent while Jasper spoke to Mr Stilton about how much they would need and a possible date for delivery. She calculated the price, as she had with everything else connected with establishing the club, and it was substantial. If Jasper harboured doubts about the solvency of their venture then she couldn’t fault or chide him for hanging on to part of the hell. Not even her inheritance would be enough to save them if the losses proved too large. She’d seen enough men come to Philip for loans for shops and ventures only to have a fire, flood or sunken ship send them spiralling into insolvency. Even Philip had once come close to losing everything. In the months after they’d lost their parents, while he was caring for her and taking over their father’s business, he’d extended a sizeable loan to a silversmith who’d defaulted. It had almost ruined his entire business. Mr Charton, having been a good friend of their father’s, had stepped in to help stop Philip from being ruined. She’d been a child then, but in her grief she’d caught the strain in Philip’s face and overheard enough conversations to realise the severity of what was going on. Philip had worried with Mr Charton over not being able to provide for Jane or being forced by his losses to leave her with the Chartons and it had terrified her. She’d been a burden he hadn’t needed at a time when everything had been falling on his shoulders and there’d been nothing she could do to help him. She wondered what burden she now placed on Jasper and if this was why he’d hesitated about the wedding yesterday.

Jane stepped a touch closer to Jasper. She’d wrangled him into marrying her. It made her wonder whether he offered wanton kisses, suggestions and compliments because he really wanted to or because, having made his decision after yesterday’s doubts, he must now convince them both it was the right one.

‘Thank you, Mr Stilton, for everything.’ Jasper shook the cheesemonger’s hand, then guided Jane towards the entrance of the shop, his arm solid on hers.

She placed her hand over his as they stepped outside on to the pavement. She was no longer a helpless child, she was a grown woman who would not be a burden to him; she would be a partner in their success. It was how much of a partner he intended to be that she still worried about.

They left the shop and were not three feet from the entrance when Chester Stilton staggered out of a hack, his usually pristine clothes as rumpled as the skin beneath his eyes. With her doubts trailing her, he was one of the last people she wished to encounter and she tugged on Jasper’s arm, hoping to hurry past before he noticed them. They were not fast enough.

‘Miss Rathbone, here to change your mind about my offer?’ Chester called out, forcing her and Jasper to face the man.

‘I see your credit with your tailor has run out.’ She motioned to the patched tear on his lapel.

He reddened with shame at being caught looking less than impeccable. Then he leaned in close to her, his eyes as bloodshot as his breath was foul. ‘Come to sneer at me, spinster?’

‘Mind how you address her,’ Jasper warned from beside her.

Mr Stilton curled one lip at him, revealing his yellow teeth. ‘Who are you?’

‘Jasper Charton.’ Jasper took Jane’s hand. ‘Her fiancé.’

‘Picking up your brother’s leftovers, I see,’ Mr Stilton sneered before turning to Jane. ‘What did you do to get him? Purchase him like you couldn’t purchase his brother?’

Jasper slid in between Jane and the cheesemonger’s son. He stood a good head taller than Chester and leaned so close to him, he was forced to bend back to avoid being nose to nose with Jasper. ‘Speak to her like that again and I’ll see to it your debts are called in. I don’t mean your debt at the tailor, I mean the gambling ones you’ve run up at the Company Gaming Room.’

Jane stifled a squeak of surprise while struggling to hold her look of disdain. Mr Stilton gambles at Jasper’s hell.

Mr Stilton’s lips dropped down over his teeth and the blood drained out of his flushed face. ‘How do you know about those? I’ve never seen you there.’

‘I’m a well-connected man. If you don’t wish to be strung up by your debts, or have your father inadvertently learn of them, you’ll keep your opinions about Miss Rathbone to yourself. Do I make myself clear?’

Mr Stilton flicked a nervous glance at Jane before nodding in agreement.

‘Good, then we’ve settled the matter.’ Jasper straightened, turned to Jane and offered her his arm. She took it, jutting her chin out in defiance of Mr Stilton when they stepped around him. ‘Good day, Mr Stilton.’

Jane didn’t dare speak until they were down the street and well away from the cheesemonger. ‘Why did you threaten him with his club debts?’

His arm beneath her hand stiffened. ‘Because he deserved it for insulting you.’

‘But you risked him finding out about your involvement in the hell. If he had, he’s weasel enough to have used it against you.’

‘I’ve seen him gamble. He isn’t smart enough to make the connection.’ Jasper stopped and faced her. ‘Besides, you’re worth the risk.’

Jane’s back stiffened. She’d waited years for someone to value her like this, someone not related to her by blood or marriage. The fact it was Jasper seemed right, but the old doubts refused to be silenced. ‘No, I’m not.’

He brushed her cheek with his fingers. ‘Despite what you believe, you’re an exceptional woman worthy of respect and admiration. I’m the one who doesn’t deserve you.’

‘Of course you do.’ People shuffled by on the narrow pavement, silently scolding them for blocking traffic. Jane was barely conscious of their censure as Jasper caressed her cheek with his thumb. He’d been willing to risk having his respectability challenged to defend her, and it was obvious he didn’t regret it. This more than his words—his offer to turn over his affairs at once, or his kisses, spoke to how much he valued her and their coming union.

Mrs Fairley was right. Jane hadn’t made a mistake.