Pride and Pleasure (8 page)

The anticipation of capture was its own pleasure. The hair on her nape stood on end and gooseflesh covered the parts of her arms exposed above her long gloves. When the warmth of a large hand surrounded her elbow, she couldn’t fight the shiver that moved through her.

“Miss Martin.” Jasper’s deep voice caused a tingling in her stomach. With an easy grip, he led her outdoors to where several guests were paired in quietly voiced conversations. “You might have warned me that you would steal my breath upon sight.”

“Thank you.” Unlike Tolliver’s compliment, Jasper’s praise did not make her feel awkward. Instead, she felt warm and slightly giddy.

“Altering your appearance to goad speculation was an excellent plan.” He looked down at her with warm appreciation. “In case I’ve failed to mention it, I love the way you think.”

Eliza flushed. “Would you admire my intellect less to know I hoped my presentation would impress you as much as my reasoning?”

“No. I would be deeply flattered.”

“I feel silly,” she confessed. “Simply knowing you goads me into acting in ways I normally wouldn’t.”

Jasper smiled, and she found him so handsome it made her chest tighten. “Would it ease your nervousness to know I have second-guessed every aspect of my attire from the knot of my cravat to the shoes on my feet before every meeting I’ve had with you since the first? I believe it’s part of the mating ritual.”

He slowed as they stepped outside the circle of light cast by the ballroom chandeliers. There were torches set around the veranda, but they were spaced at wide intervals to provide just enough illumination to delineate where stone gave way to lawn.

“Part of the charade?” she asked.

“I’ve yet to feign anything with you, Eliza.”

Unsure of how to banter flirtatiously, she moved on to safer topics. “How do you know Lord Westfield?”

“Lucian Remington introduced us one evening.”

She was momentarily surprised Jasper would boast membership in such an exclusive establishment as Remington’s Gentlemen’s Club. Then, she recalled that Lucian Remington was the bastard son of the Duke of Glasser. He was known to allow gentlemen of any background to join his club . . . so long as they could afford it. The practice was tolerated by those born of higher station because Remington’s was grand on the grandest scale. They were loath to deny themselves such luxury.

“Have you known one another long?”

“Not excessively long, no.”

Although he didn’t move, she sensed the change in him. The sudden alertness. It was similar to being doused by chilled water. She sometimes forgot she and Jasper Bond hardly knew one another, because her overwhelming physical attraction to him fostered an illusion of intimacy.

Eliza deliberately kept her tone light when she said, “Forgive me for prying into your personal matters. They are none of my concern.”

She would do well to follow his example and keep to safer topics in their relations. He worked for her, and an employee was all he would ever be to her. Perhaps it would slow her fascination with him to keep that in mind.

How deeply could one fall when the pool was shallow?

 

While there was no outward sign of it, Jasper knew Eliza had withdrawn and he’d lost ground with her. Relationships were complications for just that reason—at some point, women expected full disclosure. He found the need mystifying.

But he wasn’t willing to cede any of the progress he had made with Eliza, regardless of the points on which he would have to bend.

“I met him two years ago,” he elaborated. “He finds the work I do interesting and from that interest, we became . . . friends.”

“You say the word ‘friends’ so strangely.”

“It’s not one I am accustomed to using.”

She nodded and softened toward him, both physically and otherwise. “I understand.”

Jasper looked at the stone beneath his feet. Of course she would understand. There was an unusual affinity between them. On the surface, they could not be more wrong for one another. In private moments, however, nothing had ever felt more right.

“Ah, there you are, Miss Martin,” a confident and familiar voice called out.

Turning his head, Jasper watched Lord Montague exit the ballroom. Wearing dark emerald velvet and an artful amount of diamond accoutrements, the earl looked solvent and unflappable. It was a feat made more impressive by Jasper’s knowledge of the truth. Montague’s circumstances could not be shakier. Still, the earl’s wide smile and bright eyes made it clear he was genuinely pleased to see Eliza. Or at the very least, the fortune she represented.

Jasper straightened. He’d never resented his younger brother for bearing the title and privileges that came with it—until the present. In the case of Eliza, Montague’s advantages now posed the first real threat to Jasper’s aims. Jasper could provide only intangibles, such as passion, acceptance, adventure, which were things Eliza had only recently shown an interest in. If she came to the conclusion that she needed matrimony to have sex . . .

There was the possibility that in seducing her, he was pushing her into marriage.

Extending his hand, Jasper waited for Eliza to set hers atop his palm. He kissed the back, hating the white satin barring his lips from her soft, pale skin. “I shall leave you to your admirer,” he murmured, giving her fingers a reassuring squeeze.

As much as he disliked it, the best way to establish the distinction between himself and Montague was to let her experience it firsthand.

He passed the earl with no more than a slight tilt of his head as acknowledgment, feeling more than a little satisfaction that he held the marker to the peer’s beloved property and the earl didn’t know it.

Jasper moved directly toward the card room. Now was as good a time as any to see which of Eliza’s swains was dependent upon the whims of chance. In that enterprise, at least, he had no competition.

“Mr. Bond is an exceptionally fine-looking young man,” Lady Collingsworth said from her seat on the opposite squab. The Collingsworth carriage inched its way through the congested streets. While most of the other conveyances squired their passengers from one society event to another, Eliza and her ladyship were retiring to their respective homes.

“You mentioned that earlier.” Eliza draped her long gloves over her lap. She’d found the sight of Jasper in finery so pleasant, she would have liked to see him again before the evening ended. Their brief discussion on the veranda had been long enough only to make her wish for more time.

“There are certain types of handsomeness that are so compelling you tell yourself later you must have exaggerated the appeal in your mind. When you see the man again and he exceeds your embroidery, it’s impossible not to remark upon it.” Although the lamps were turned down low, there was enough light to see her ladyship’s smile.

“He does render one speechless,” Eliza agreed. “Sir Richard Tolliver felt the need to warn me that a man as comely as Mr. Bond would set his cap for me only because of my purse.”

“Good heavens.” Regina’s ramrod-straight spine stiffened further. “Tolliver is blind and desperate. I paid a great deal of attention to Mr. Bond over the course of the day. He most definitely has tender feelings for you. Enough so he fears being unable to make you happy.”

“How did you reach that conclusion?”

“Mr. Bond said as much to me.”

Eliza’s brows rose. “Did he?”

“He did indeed. Are you considering his suit?”

“To answer that conclusively, I would need to know him better.”

Lady Collingsworth linked her hands together in her lap. “The responsibility I was given for you is a deep honor. As you know, your mother meant a great deal to me. I loved Georgina as I would a sibling. I wish most sincerely to do well by you.”

“You have been wonderful.” She wanted to say that Regina had done far better than her own mother would have, but she bit her tongue. She would never understand what the sweet, generous Lady Collingsworth had seen in the self-centered, mercurial Georgina. Whatever it was, it had inspired an abiding loyalty that persisted beyond the grave. Eliza learned long ago to voice no disparagement of her mother to Regina. To do so was to invite extensive reprimand and extolments of her mother’s worth.

“You are kind to say so.” Her ladyship smiled. “You look so like Georgina in that gown. I was taken aback upon first sight of you. For a moment, it felt almost as if time had moved backward.”

Eliza didn’t see the resemblance beyond the hue of her hair and eyes, but again, she said nothing. Then, she realized she should offer thanks for the voiced observation. Her ladyship would perceive it to be a compliment. “Thank you.”

“You are a remarkably sensible young woman,” Regina continued. “You are cautious and prefer not to leave anything to chance. But matrimony is all about taking chances. Do you know how much time Collingsworth and I spent together before he paid his addresses? If you consider only the moments we actually spoke to one another, it was no more than a handful of hours. There were parties and dinners and picnics and such, but always with others nearby impeding any chance for quiet, meaningful discourse. You speak of knowing someone well, but in truth there is very little you need to know. Does an attraction exist between you? Do you both wish to see the other happy or, at the very least, reasonably content? If you have those things, you have all you need to enjoy a comfortable marriage.”

“And what if there are things he refuses to share with me? How can there be trust, if there are aspects of one another we don’t know?”

“Are there not parts of yourself that you would rather keep private?” Regina challenged. “Things you would choose not to discuss? Of course there are. Women are entitled to their mysteries, and men are entitled to their secrets. Frankly, some secrets are painful and best left alone.”

Eliza considered this information carefully. There were indeed things she would prefer never to discuss again. It stood to reason that Jasper, too, would have memories he would like to forget. The person he was today might have been shaped by past events, but they didn’t rule him now. Why should they rule her?

“You can manage a man,” her ladyship coached, “if you pander to his pride and innate sense of self-importance. Convince him that your idea is his and he’ll follow it through. When handled correctly, marriage can be a useful enterprise.”

“The effort you describe is altogether too much work, in my opinion.” But perhaps worth the effort for a man such as Jasper Bond. Shockingly, Eliza was contemplating all the things she might have to concede if she wanted to have Jasper in her life for longer than the length of the Season.

“My dear child. You extract from life what you put into it.” Regina leaned forward. “Your coin will be of little comfort to you during chilly nights and solitary meals. I want a happier future for you. Someone to look after you. Children to love. This is a man’s world, Eliza. Whether we like it or not, there is no help for it. You think you have freedom and independence now, but marriage would grant you even greater license. And Mr. Bond appears to have means of his own, so you might have everything to gain and nothing to lose.”

The carriage rolled to a halt outside the Melville town house.

Eliza caught her ladyship’s hand and gave it an affectionate squeeze. “Thank you, Regina. You’ve given me a great deal to think about.”

“I’m available to you, if you need me.”

As Eliza climbed the steps to the front door, she recognized that a decisive shift had taken place in her world. It was as if she’d been sleeping in a moving carriage, content to move in any general direction. Now she was awakened and feeling the need to change course. Unfortunately, she had no notion of where she wanted to go. She was, however, beginning to think that wherever the destination, having Jasper with her would make the journey far more interesting.

“T
his is the last one.” Mr. Terrance Reynolds consulted the sheaf of notes in his lap. “As I mentioned during our last meeting, Miss Martin, your newest tenant creates perfumed soaps, bath oils, and candles to order. Business is slow at present, but having purchased some of Mrs. Pennington’s products for my wife, I think that will soon change.”

Jasper kept his gaze on Eliza, who sat on the opposite squab. It was nearing two o’clock in the afternoon. They’d been visiting her various properties for nearly three hours now, solidifying in his mind just how wealthy Eliza was. He could easily see how someone would find the lure of her fortune overwhelming, but a suitor would have to be capable of looking beneath the surface to discover it. In her business dealings, Eliza went to great efforts to hide her gender and, therefore, her identity.

“I’ll pay a visit to this store,” she said, looking out the window of Jasper’s unmarked, enclosed town carriage. “It will be interesting to see the scent the proprietress chooses to create for me.”

Jasper wanted to tell Eliza that he liked the way she smelled already, but could not with Mr. Reynolds present. In addition to the safety considerations that prompted today’s excursion, the exercise also brought to light how much he enjoyed talking with Eliza and listening to her view of situations. He missed being able to speak with her freely, but felt it best to keep the arrangement between himself and Eliza private. To Mr. Reynolds’ knowledge, Jasper was a friend of Melville’s and a possible investor in Eliza’s proposed plan to modernize the amenities in a few of her older properties.

“How close are we to the store?” Jasper asked.

“A few blocks,” Reynolds replied. “We’re almost there.”

Rapping on the roof, Jasper signaled for his driver to stop. “I’ll walk from here. That will give us a sufficient length of time between Miss Martin’s arrival and mine so it doesn’t appear as if we came together.”

An odd look crossed Eliza’s features before she nodded. He made a note to ask her later what prompted it. Alighting from the carriage, he accepted the cane she passed to him through the open door.

“Pink and white striped awning,” Reynolds advised.

“Thank you.” Jasper saluted Eliza with a quick touch to the brim of his hat, then he set off.

Today, he’d learned more than just how wealthy she was. Though neither Eliza nor Mr. Reynolds said so outright, Jasper noted that she leased her properties predominantly to women. He expected his investigation would prove her tenants to be mostly spinsters and widows. It was an honorable endeavor, and he admired her for undertaking it. However, the practice made it less likely that one of her tenants was to blame for her recent troubles. She would engender gratitude before malice. He would need to cast his net wider to include those whose rental applications had been denied. Meanwhile, every day that passed without a stronger lead aggravated him more. The work itself was not an issue. It was the threat to Eliza’s safety that made Jasper dread every moment she was out of his sight.

In short order, he spotted the cheery awning and his waiting carriage nearby. This time, it was Reynolds who remained out of view while Eliza entered the store. One of the most important lessons Lynd had taught Jasper was to surround himself with trustworthy staff and to pay them well enough to keep them happy.
Better to have two people you trust with your life, than a dozen you can’t vouch for.
Eliza appeared to have the same sensibility. Terrance Reynolds was paid handsomely. That fact was made obvious by the quality of his attire and his accessories, from his gold pocket watch to his leather satchel. In return, the man seemed genuinely fond of Eliza and intent on serving her interests well.

As Jasper entered the store, the bell above the door jingled to herald his arrival. The interior of the shop was perfectly sized for an establishment catering to the sense of smell. The air was fragrant without being overpowering. A variety of cloth-covered round tables were placed at set intervals around the room, displaying wares in colorful groupings.

He removed his hat.

Jasper found the speaker to his left, arranging items on a tabletop in front of Eliza. The shopkeeper was young and beautiful, blond and blue-eyed. As shapely as a prized courtesan, but with the face of an angel. He bowed in greeting, then shifted his attention to Eliza. The hue of her hair made her initially more arresting to the eye than the paler tresses of the proprietress, but she lacked the fullness of curves and classic beauty of the other. That didn’t alter the fact that he found Eliza to be far more pleasing to look upon. From the first, she’d called to him on a physical level. There was raw magnetism between them, unique in its form. Bedding her would not be about the appeasement of his hunger, but a celebration of it. He’d never felt that for anyone else. With her it was the journey to be savored, not the destination.

“Miss Martin,” he drawled. “Fancy meeting you here. It’s a lovely day, wouldn’t you agree?”

“I would indeed, Mr. Bond.” Her eyes sparkled with genuine pleasure. The manner in which she looked at him always stirred him. She lacked the artifice to hide how much she enjoyed his appearance.

Jasper couldn’t look away.

Eliza blushed when he continued to stare. She caught her lower lip between her teeth and a wash of heat swept over him.

He could arouse her with a glance. Did she know what that did to him?

“Is there something in particular I can help you find?” the blonde asked, excusing herself from Eliza. She wiped her hands on the apron tied around her waist, then gestured at the goods around them. “Floral or fruity? Musky or spicy? If you tell me the age and gender of the person you’re shopping for, I can help you find just the thing. Or I can create something unique.”

“What would you suggest for a young woman of discriminating taste, high intelligence, and deep passions? Nothing ordinary or expected, please. She is neither.”

“Is she a wife or a lover?”

He considered the inquiry a moment, both the boldness of the question and his possible answer.

“It’s best if I ask,” she explained, glancing back at Eliza. “Providing you with the best possible product will ensure both your future business and your referral, and I need one as much as the other.”

“How can I argue with that, Miss . . . ?”

“
Mrs.
Pennington.” In close proximity, she appeared to be no older than Eliza.

“Why don’t I look around,” he suggested, “while you assist Miss Martin?”

Once again, Mrs. Pennington looked over her shoulder. “She’s selecting a half dozen of her favorite scented oils, which is what I would like you to do.”

“I will start with the same offerings, then.”

Mrs. Pennington gestured toward the back of the store. Jasper followed her prompting. As she opened up free space on a table, she continued to cast furtive glances at Eliza. Perhaps she feared thievery?

He held back and remained silent, not wanting to distract her from finishing her task as soon as possible. When she straightened, he listened to her instructions and assured her that he could whittle down the choices without further help.

When she left him, he watched her return to the front of the store and waited to see if she would eye him as often as she had Eliza. She did not. But Eliza did.

He’d never known it could be so arousing to be ogled. He supposed it was because he had never been ogled by the right person.

 

Once Eliza was home again, she stripped off her gloves in the foyer, then looked at the post lying on a silver salver atop the console table. She set aside the few letters for Melville that appeared to be of a personal nature and collected the rest, intent on taking them up to her room. She wanted nothing so much as something to eat and a cup of tea.

She was halfway up the stairs when Melville called her name from below. Turning on the step, she smiled at him. “Yes, my lord?”

“Could I have a moment of your time?” he queried, frowning while trying to straighten his crooked waistcoat.

“Of course.” As she descended, her gaze met the butler’s. “Could you ask Mrs. Potts to bring tea to his lordship’s laboratory?”

The servant’s tall and lean frame moved quickly out of range of her sight.

Eliza followed Melville around the base of the staircase and collected his mail at the console. They passed her study door, then turned to the right at the end of the parquet-lined hallway. The room where his lordship spent much of his time was there. She made a chastising clicking noise with her tongue when she found the drapes drawn tight. A copious number of candles were scattered around the room, offering plenty of light . . . and smoke.

“It’s a glorious day outside,” she chastised, dropping the day’s post onto one of the long, slender laboratory tables before moving briskly over to the windows. She drew the drapes aside, then systematically unlocked each of the windows lining the length of the wall and pushed up the sashes.

“Too bright,” his lordship groused, blinking like an owl.

“You need sunlight. We humans don’t thrive in dark places as mushrooms are wont to do.”

“Mushrooms!” He snapped his fingers. “Brilliant, Eliza.”

Melville quickly rounded his desk and began writing.

She pulled out one of the wooden stools that butted against a table bearing various-sized glass tubes and bottles. Waiting patiently, she blew out nearby candles that were unnecessary now that sunlight illuminated the large, disorganized space. The multitude of colorful liquids in jars cast jeweled beams of light onto the floor. In that moment, it was possible to see how Melville could become entranced by the mysteries he researched.

When Mrs. Potts bustled in with tea service on a tray, the intrusion seemed to snap his lordship into a renewed awareness of his location and his visitor.

“Oh, Eliza!” his lordship cried, scratching his head. “I apologize.”

Eliza laughed softly. “It’s quite all right.”

She enjoyed these quiet moments with her uncle. In addition to being the only family she had remaining, he did not seek to fill perfectly good moments of silence with inane chatter. She did not have to consider—and reconsider—everything she said, or phrase her words in ways that made them more understandable while also diluting their meaning.

Sliding off the stool, she stood in front of the tea service and began to prepare the tea.

“Montague paid a call on me today,” Melville said.

“Oh?” Her brows went up. “Why does that make me apprehensive?”

“Because you know why he came. He asked for permission to pay his addresses.”

Eliza’s breath left her in a rush. “Did he give you cause to believe I would welcome his offer?”

“On the contrary, he made it quite clear that while you find him to be one of the more agreeable of your suitors, you are not inclined to wed him.”

That made her smile. “Yet he made his request, regardless.”

“He was concerned by speculation regarding events at Somerset House yesterday. Some talk of your accident not truly being an accident at all.” His lordship accepted the cup and saucer she passed to him. “Why didn’t you tell me about what happened?”

“There was no need to bother you with the tale,” she protested. “It was unfortunate, but no harm was done.”

Melville gave her a calculated look. “You hired a thief-taker to protect you because of threats to your person, yet you dismiss this egregious event out of hand?”

“Because the flagrant nature of the event makes it unlikely to be unrelated to the rest,” she argued. “I could have been killed. What purpose would that serve anyone? And the location was so prominent, increasing the possibility of exposure. It doesn’t align with the other attacks at all.”

“Regardless, I granted Montague’s request.”

Eliza knew that tone; Melville’s mind was set. “I suspected you had.”

“My years are advancing. I would like you to have someone in your life to look after your well-being, someone whose loyalty is not bought with coin.”

“I can look after myself.” Wielding a pair of silver tongs, she prepared a plate for him, artfully arranging a freshly baked scone alongside slices of shaved ham.

“By hiring someone.”

“Marrying Montague would be nigh on the same thing,” she pointed out.

“With the addition of children and a permanent companion. Not to mention a title and the many responsibilities you would gain with it. You would be busy, fulfilled, and rarely alone.”

“I enjoy being alone.”

“I cannot bear the thought of it.” Melville set his cup down. “I haven’t forgotten our agreement. I know this is your sixth and final Season. You think you’ll be happier rusticating in the country, but I disagree.”

“Rusticating is not quite what I had in mind.”

“I told Montague he had my permission to make the attempt to change your mind, and I wished him well. No harm in that, is there?”

“Would you be happy if I married anyone at all?” she queried, adding milk to her tea. “Or only Montague? You seem to like him quite well.”

“I met his father once or twice.” Melville shrugged. “He seemed to be a pleasant enough fellow. And Montague is determined to have you. There is something to be said for that. But if there’s someone else you prefer, I would champion him over Montague.”

“Thank you, my lord. I will keep that in mind.”

“You’re humoring me,” he said dryly.

Eliza’s lips curved against the rim of her cup. “I am not. In fact, this discussion has me seeing Lord Montague in an entirely new light. You are correct: there’s something to be said for his determination. And yours. Which I think was his point. He wanted me to know he’s serious, and he wanted to ascertain whether or not he would have your support. He said he understands me better now, and perhaps that’s true. Flowers will not win me, but cunning and unorthodox methods . . . At the very least, I admire his approach.”