Pride and Pleasure

Chapter 10

Eliza had never fully appreciated the restorative properties of salt baths. However, Jasper insisted she take one before leaving his home the evening before and suggested she might avail herself of one in the morning as well. Having taken his advice, she felt much better, although there was still lingering soreness in unmentionable places.

She was also starving, as she often was after strenuous activity. She ate far more at breakfast than was usual and remained at the table for some time after Melville excused himself. With the late morning sunshine slanting through the window at her back, Eliza read the paper and chose not to think about all the many things she should be thinking about. Instead she chose to dissect the waltz in her mind, remembering the way it was taught to her and improving upon that teaching method.

Jasper would be calling later for his first dance lesson. She was eager for him to become proficient so she could share a dance with him in public. A thrill moved through her at the thought of being in his arms in full view of everyone. It would be a delicious challenge to be decorous at a time when she would be so physically stimulated.

Eliza turned the page and tapped her foot to a tune playing in her head. After returning home at ten o’clock the night before, she’d stayed in. She was perfectly content to read the various renditions of last night’s events in the gazettes, having previously come to the conclusion that the printed tales were often more entertaining than the reality.

“Eliza.”

Glancing up, she smiled as her uncle reentered the room. “Yes, my lord?”

He rounded the long wooden table with a frown. Today was one of the few days when every piece of his attire was the way it should be, signaling a hard-won victory for his lordship’s valet.

“The Earl of Westfield is here,” he said, pausing beside her.

“Oh?”

“He has expressed an interest in paying his addresses to you.”

Eliza blinked up at him. “Beg your pardon?”

“He wants to wed you. And speak with you. He awaits you in the parlor.”

She folded the paper carefully, her thoughts rushing forward and stumbling all over themselves. With her brain arrested by confusion, her attention moved to the delicate lace runner that bisected the table. Her gaze slowly shifted to the brass candelabra that stood in the center. The antique piece was surrounded by a ring of pink roses, just as she was surrounded by sudden marriage proposals.

Melville cleared his throat and pulled her chair back from the table. “I was not aware you and Westfield were well acquainted.”

Eliza stood. “I hardly know him.”

“It would be an excellent match, much more advantageous than marrying Montague.”

“Absolutely,” she agreed, linking her arm with his and following his lead toward the door. Westfield was handsome, wealthy, and widely respected. He was also a friend of Jasper’s, which made his offer decidedly more curious.

“How do you feel about this?” his lordship asked as they left the room.

“I wish I knew. Perhaps I’ll have a better idea after I speak with him. How did you respond?”

“I wished him luck.”

“What about me? Do you wish me luck, too?”

“I wish you happy, dear. In whatever form suits you best.” He kissed her cheek. “Now, go on. Don’t keep West-field waiting.”

Eliza set off on her own toward the front of the house. It was late enough in the day that the sun no longer shined directly through the glass around the front door. The familiar stillness of her home was usually comforting, but today it emphasized the disturbance created by the earl’s visit. A second offer of marriage in as many days. She could hardly credit it.

As she entered the formal parlor, Eliza collected that West-field’s reason for visiting wasn’t the sole cause of her unease. His physical presence was palpable. His person fairly crackled with a vibrant energy very much at odds with Jasper’s quiet, intensely watchful air.

“Good morning, my lord,” she said.

“Miss Martin.” Westfield stood. He was as tall as Jasper, though not as broad or muscular. If pressed for a description, she would call him “elegant” and very dashing. “You look radiant.”

“Thank you. I should return the compliment and say you look quite nice.”

He grinned. “How are you faring this fine day? I hope you’re well. You were missed about town last night.”

Eliza chose to sit in the pale yellow velvet wingback facing the doorway. She lowered herself into the seat and smoothed her floral-patterned muslin skirts. The earl settled opposite her with practiced grace, a man of understated power and privilege. She decided that “polished” was a more apt descriptor than “elegant.” Jasper had a sharper edge to him.

“I’m well,” she answered. “I stayed in by choice, not due to any malaise. I don’t enjoy the events of the Season as much as others do, I suspect.”

She mentioned her sentiments deliberately, knowing Westfield would need an accomplished hostess for a wife if he hoped to achieve his political and social aims.

“Not surprising,” he said, “considering what a danger they have become to you.”

“Beg your pardon?”

“I’m aware of the nature of your association with Mr. Bond.”

Eliza was too startled to blink. “Oh.”

“Please don’t hold his disclosures against him. He confided in me because he knows I am trustworthy.”

“He may trust you with his own personal matters, but trusting you with mine is an avenue I wish he’d discussed with me.” She wondered how much information the earl was privy to. Considering he was offering marriage, she expected he was aware of more than she was comfortable with.

“I appreciate your concern, I assure you.” He paused as the tea service was brought in and placed before Eliza on the low table between them. He eyed Mrs. Potts with what appeared to be astonishment, a reaction Eliza was quite used to. The housekeeper was tall and slender as a reed, her arms seemingly too frail to support the weight of the heavy service. But she was far stronger than she looked, capable of lifting items even Melville struggled with.

After Mrs. Potts left, Westfield continued. “My intention is to help you and Bond. And myself, of course.”

“By offering to resolve a temporary problem by binding me to a permanent one?” Eliza turned her attention to the preparation of tea.

“You just called me a permanent problem,” he pointed out dryly.

“Not you,” she corrected, measuring the tea leaves. “Marriage to you. We know very little about each other, and if we were to consider what we do know, I doubt we’d find ourselves to be aligned.”

“I know I’m appreciative of the way you responded to a statue nearly braining you,” he argued, leaning forward. “I thought you displayed considerable fortitude and courage. You proved yourself capable of addressing any situation presented to you, Miss Martin, and that is a trait I’ve not previously been wise enough to consider.”

Taking more time and care than necessary, Eliza balanced a strainer atop the lip of a cup. Her mind was focused on identifying how she felt about Jasper’s betrayal of her confidence. She knew she shouldn’t take the matter lightly-not after the examples of foolish choices her mother had made in the throes of an infatuation-but she found herself making excuses for Jasper. Attempting to find a mitigating circumstance she could accept. Surely he had good reason for sharing what happened between them the night before, if only she could think of it. It was difficult for her to decide whether she was showing good faith or poor judgment.

“I understand my desire to remain unencumbered by marriage is incomprehensible to most,” she said finally. “All young women are expected to select a husband as they would a new bonnet or pelisse, because a spouse is as necessary a female accessory as outerwear. But I need no support, financial or otherwise. I have most of what I need, and I can afford to buy the rest. Frankly, my lord, while your solvency is most refreshing, I don’t see what use I would have for you personally.”

“No?” His mouth lifted on one side in a manner she knew many women would find appealing. “You would be free of the suitors plaguing you, including Montague, who is becoming impatient. Bond has only your best interests at heart, but he’s blinded by his own personal motivations, and now they are contributing to your dilemma. Seeing you safely wed to someone he can trust is the most responsible way to address your situation.”

“I dislike talking in half-measure, my lord. I lack the talent required to translate and decipher. Since I don’t believe you would offer marriage in the name of friendship, regardless of the circumstances, I should like for you to speak bluntly and honestly.”

Eliza chose not to elaborate on what those circumstances might be, because she still wasn’t certain how much the earl knew. If he was aware of her indiscretion and the possible ramifications, it would explain his address. But what would motivate a man in his position to step into such a situation?

Westfield waved off her offer of sugar. “I’m not being completely altruistic. You are sensible, attractive, and willing to take extraordinary measures to accomplish necessary tasks.”

“I’m certainly not the only female to meet those qualifications.”

“You are wealthy, intelligent, and determined,” he enumerated. “You have sufficient breeding, but come unencumbered by tiresome, troublesome, or expensive siblings. You speak your mind and force me to speak mine. What more could I ask for?”

“Desire? Elevated feelings? Youth?” She could tell by the momentarily blank expression on his face that her first suggestion took him aback. However, she felt the question was warranted by his offer.

“Four and twenty is a perfectly acceptable age. As to the rest, a lifetime is a long time to commit to another individual. I’d rather not enter into such an extended association based on higher sentiments.”

“That isn’t why you make this offer. You see an opportunity in me, yes. But finding a suitable wife is not all you want.”

Westfield straightened. Although his gaze didn’t narrow, his focus did. “What else would it be?” he drawled.

It was the drawl that proved her point. “Perhaps you seek a shield or a barrier. Someone to deflect attention from you. Or an innocuous person to fill a hole you find painful.”

“Can I add ‘imaginative’ to the list of your attributes?”

The sound of masculine voices in the foyer drew Eliza’s attention to the open parlor door. A moment later, the butler appeared with a calling card borne atop a salver. A quick glance at the clock on the mantel told her it was Jasper. He was timely as usual, arriving just a few minutes early.

She nodded at the butler in a silent acknowledgment that he should show Jasper in. “Mr. Bond is here, my lord.”

When Jasper appeared in the doorway, her fingers linked tightly within her lap. For such a large man, he moved with an effortless silence. His attire was notably understated, comprised of shades of gray. His Hessians were polished to a shine rivaling the luster of his gleaming hair, and he stood with a widened stance, a position that emphasized how solid he was. How well-anchored and stable.

Jasper drew to a halt just inside the threshold, looking at Westfield in a way that said he wasn’t surprised to see the earl visiting. Either his men watching the house had informed him, or he’d known from Westfield. Eliza didn’t know how she felt about the latter possibility.

What she did know was that their relationship was irrevocably changed. Although he was dressed from his neck to his toes, in her mind’s eye she saw him as he’d been last night-flushed and disheveled, naked and vulnerable. He had been so open then, so willing to bare his thoughts and feelings, even when he didn’t understand them. The knowledge of that hidden side to him created a nearly unbearable yearning. A part of her believed she “knew” him. It was not reasonable for her to feel thusly, considering how little about his life and past was known to her, but it wasn’t her mind making the determination.

From the way he was looking at her, he was remembering the night before, too. But if he felt the same deep connection, why had Westfield come to call on her?

“Miss Martin.” Jasper bowed, his voice lingering in the air for a delicious moment. He straightened and pivoted to face the earl. “My lord.”

Westfield stood. “Bond. How fortuitous your arrival is.”

“Is that so?” Jasper looked at her. “Why?”

Eliza understood from Jasper’s low tone that he was in a volatile mood. She hesitated a moment before answering, unsure how to relay the events of her morning. “Lord West-field has come to offer his assistance.”

Visually, there was no change in Jasper’s countenance, but his clipped response spoke volumes. “With what?”

She looked at Westfield, turning the conversation over to him.

Jasper’s arms crossed.

The earl smiled. “I’m simply following through with what we discussed last night. Seeing Miss Martin wed might resolve the problems of everyone involved.”

“Wed to whom?”

“To me, of course.”

“Of course.” Jasper shifted slightly, in the manner of a stirring beast.

Eliza, who was uncertain of what was transpiring, thought it best to keep her own counsel.

Westfield’s smile began to fade as the silence stretched out.

Jasper glanced at Eliza. “Have you answered him?”

“Not yet, sir.”

“Why the delay? Westfield is suitable in every way.”

Stiffening against a sharp pain in her chest, Eliza lifted her chin and replied, “Perhaps I was waiting for your endorsement, Mr. Bond.”

“Damned if I’ll give it to you,” he snapped.

She blinked.

The earl looked equally stunned. “Now, see here, Bond-”

“What is your answer, Eliza?” Jasper stared hard at her.

She looked at his hands, noting the whiteness of his knuckles as he gripped his biceps. She forced herself to look away and give Lord Westfield her full attention. Her fingers were linked so tightly, they hurt. Even lacking refinement in social graces, she knew what she was about to do was wrong in many ways, but she also knew Jasper needed to hear she wanted him as well. He required it said aloud, with a witness. As confident and aggressive as he could be when in his element, he was as lost as she was when it came to intimacy.

After a deep inhalation, she said, “As honored as I am by your address, my lord, I must decline. My feelings are engaged elsewhere.”

Westfield’s brows rose.

“Right, then,” Jasper said, breaking his stillness. “Out you go, Westfield. I’ll see you this evening. Come early. You and I have matters to discuss.”

Frowning, the earl stood. “My offer will stand through the end of the Season, Miss Martin. As for you, Bond-” Westfield’s face took on a hardened cast-“we do, indeed, have matters to discuss.”

Eliza was vaguely aware of holding out her hand to West-field, who lifted it to firm lips and kissed the back. She might have said something inane, he might have as well, but she was so taken aback by the intensity with which he stared at her that she missed the rest. It was a searching look, one she couldn’t answer.

He left shortly after, with Jasper following him to the front door. Eliza took the brief moment of solitude to take a fortifying drink of her now tepid cup of tea.

Equanimity. She missed it. Feeling so unsettled and confused was anathema to her. This was exactly the sort of situation her mother had so often wallowed in, the sort of situation Eliza long promised herself to avoid.

“Eliza.”

“What did you tell him?” Her head lifted so she could see Jasper’s face, then lowered again as he sank to one knee in front of her. Her heart thudded violently. Her free hand fisted in her lap.

He urged her grip to relax by gently prying open her fingers. “The only thing Westfield knows is the reason why you hired me. I needed someone who had invitations to the events you attend, so I could gain entry.”

“Of course.” As he massaged her palm, the tingles that coursed up her arm weren’t entirely due to a returning flow of blood. “You didn’t know he intended to-”

“No.”

“I thought, perhaps, it was your way of protecting me from the consequences of last night.”

He took the cup from her other hand. “I’m not that selfless. Regardless, the memory belongs only to us, and I would never share it.”

She swallowed hard. “Why are you kneeling in that way?”

A slow, self-deprecating smile curved his mouth. “If I’m able to secure Melville’s blessing, would you have me?”

“Jasper.”

“Westfield is correct. It would solve many problems. I would have greater access to you, the person who wishes to harm you would have less access, we would have more time to-”

“We hardly know one another!” she protested, while a rush of warm and sweet feelings tightened her chest.

“We have honesty and desire.” He brought her hands to his lips and kissed the knuckles. His eyes were dark, his words delivered with heartrending earnestness. “You have money and breeding; I work in trade, and my blood is worthless. But I would spill it for you.”

Eliza sucked in a shaky breath. “What are you saying?”

“Marry me.”

“I don’t want to marry.”

“But you want me.” Jasper reached up and cupped her nape, his thumb stroking across her throbbing pulse.

“Why can’t I have you without a ring?”

He snorted. “Only you would prefer to be a man’s mistress instead of his wife.”

“You should prefer me that way, too!”

“While other men line up to ask for your hand and claim rights to you that are mine? I think not.”

“In a month, the Season will be over-”

“But our relationship will not be. You don’t yet see it, but you are visibly changed by what transpired between us last night. The more I have you, the more obvious it will become, and other men will be drawn to that new awareness in you.”

She absorbed his words, startled to think that the lush languidness she felt might be obvious to others. Studying Jasper, she searched for signs of change in his appearance.

His mouth curved. “I am down on one knee, Eliza. If that isn’t a reflection of change, I have no notion what would be.”

“Please do not make light of this. You don’t want to marry either. You said you have no place in your life for a wife.”

“I can make a place for you. We’ve both thought of matrimony in terms of how it would limit our lives, but marriage can be useful in some regards. A married woman has far more freedom than a spinster.”

“How would it be useful to you?”

“It would settle me.” His touch moved downward to cup her cheek. “In the last few days, I’ve been pulled in two di-rections-between work that must be done and thoughts of you. If you were mine, you would be close and protected. I could focus on the tasks at hand in the thorough manner I’m accustomed to.”

She gripped his other hand tightly in her lap. “Perhaps it would be best for both of us if we went our separate ways and resumed our lives as we knew them.”

“Eliza.” He made a frustrated noise. “Don’t ask me to come to you as Montague and Westfield did, with practical reasons and sound arguments. If pressed, I would have to say we have no business in one another’s lives and we would be mad to marry.”

“I know.”

“But I can make you happy. We are alike in many ways, yet different enough to complement one another. You can show me how to be more circumspect; I can afford you the opportunity to be as adventuresome as you like.”

An odd sort of delight bubbled within her. Like champagne, it made her slightly giddy. “I’m not nearly as confident in my ability to make you happy. Most people find me to be aloof and too quiet. I am proficient with the pianoforte, but I’m a terrible singer. I-”

He laughed and leaned forward to kiss the end of her nose. “I don’t want to be entertained. I want you. Just the way you are.”

“You worry about the possibility I might be with child,” she argued.

“I take that very seriously, yes. But why ask for marriage now, instead of waiting to be certain?” Jasper leaned back. “Tell me truthfully, Eliza. Is your fortune an obstacle between us? Do you think it matters to me?”

She shook her head without hesitation. When he continued to seem expectant, she spoke the negation aloud, “No.”

“Good.” He released her, and set both his hands on his upraised knee. “Let us make a bargain, shall we? I will secure Lord Melville’s blessing, and you’ll say ‘yes’ to me-”

“Jasper, I would swiftly bore you.”

“Then,” he pressed on, “the banns will be read. That will give us the time we need to find the source of your trouble, discern whether or not you are increasing, and spend some time together. If, after all of that, you still believe we don’t suit and cannot be happy together, we’ll break the engagement at the end of the Season. Is that reasonable enough for you?”

“It isn’t easy to break an engagement.”

“But it can be done.”

“You claim not to be reasoned about this, yet you present me with a practical plan that affords me the opportunity to reach solid conclusions.” She sighed. “I’m faced with two difficult choices: Make a decision now with too little information, or progress further than I ever intended in order to gather the information I believe we both need.”

“If only you were impulsive,” he teased. “I might have been able to convince you to elope with me and spare you all the rumination.”

“How can you be so confident about this?” she complained. “Why can I not have some of that surety?”

“I make my decisions here”-he tapped his abdomen- “and they are usually instantaneous. You make your decisions here”-he tapped her temple with his index finger-“and that takes more time. I’m trying to give you that time, Eliza, while staving off my own impatience. An engagement is the compromise we reach.”

Worrying her lower lip, Eliza struggled to find the courage to say what she shouldn’t.

“Talk to me,” he urged.

“I cannot decide if it’s desire goading me to agree against my better sense, and I’m also concerned that as the novelty of bedding me becomes less engaging you will want me less and less, until eventually you no longer want me at all. After we are bound to one another, it will be too late to realize we had only lust, which was quickly sated.”

His nostrils flared. “If the possibility of waning interest concerns you, I can prove I desire you for more than sex. I won’t ask you to give yourself to me again until we are wed, but I’m available to you whenever and wherever you want me. Chivalry and mores are no restraints to me. I learned long ago never to spite myself; the only person who loses is me. You should know of that aspect of my character, I suppose, before you wed me.”

To be wanted so keenly…Eliza finally understood why her mother had been addicted to the feeling. It was so very tempting. And Jasper was irresistible.

To have him whenever she wanted. The thought of commanding sex from him, at any time and in any place, was impossibly arousing.

“Eliza,” he murmured, drawing her focus back to him. “Give yourself permission to take what you want, for once. You might enjoy it more than you think.”

That was partially what she was afraid of. But her fear wasn’t a strong enough deterrent to mitigate her memories of the night before and the lingering happiness she’d felt upon waking.

“Speak to Melville,” she said. “Then, ask me again.”