Pride and Pleasure

Chapter 3

Eliza was compiling the list of property holdings Jasper had requested when her man of affairs was announced. She looked up at the somberly dressed but friendly-faced man in her study doorway, and gestured for him to take a seat before her desk. “Good morning, Mr. Reynolds.”

“An excellent morning, Miss Martin.” Terrance Reynolds sat and placed his satchel at his feet.

She shook her head at the butler, who’d been waiting to relay a tea service request to the housekeeper. While she knew she should offer the courtesy, she truly didn’t have much to say, and she dreaded the awkwardness that would arise when she couldn’t fill the additional time with conversation. Some women possessed a talent for charming but meaningless discourse. Sadly, she was not one of them.

“You will be happy to hear,” Reynolds began, “that I’ve found a shopkeeper for the vacant space on Peony Way. A purveyor of soaps, candles, and such.”

“Excellent. You are most efficient, Mr. Reynolds.”

“Thank you.”

She set her quill aside, noting how much more comfortable she was talking to Reynolds than she was to Mr. Bond…Jasper. Yet that wasn’t to say she preferred the comfort of one over the excitement of the other, which made no sense, considering she’d never been one to enjoy excitation overmuch. Her mother’s life had forever been a series of crises and bursts of happiness interspersed with heated arguments and the depths of despair. Eliza had grown so weary of Georgina Tremaine Martin Chilcott’s incessant drama that she’d taken great pains to moderate her own life. She preferred private dinners to lavish balls, and the comfort of laying on her boudoir chaise with a book over literary luncheons. There was nothing at all soothing about Jasper Bond, and she was intrigued by the fact that she missed the heightened awareness she felt in his presence.

Eliza returned her attention to the man sitting across from her. “You mentioned last week that your brother’s employer had passed on. Is he still in search of employment?”

The males in the Reynolds family were all in trade as men of affairs and bookkeepers. She’d been briefly introduced to another of the siblings, Tobias Reynolds, who was possessed of the same golden locks and green-as-glass eyes as Ter-rance. She had henceforth inquired about Tobias on occasion-part of a well-meant but surprisingly arduous attempt to be more personable-and she’d learned of his misfortune in the course of those inquiries.

“He’s been assisting our father and other brother,” Reynolds replied, “but yes, Tobias is without a permanent post at the moment.”

“I should like to engage him, if he’s so inclined. He will have to travel and leave quickly, but the recompense should be sufficient to mitigate such inconveniences.”

Reynolds frowned. “Where would you like him to go?”

“County Wexford. There is a person of interest there I would like to know better. Family, circumstances, community stature. Things of that nature.” Eliza ignored the hint of unease that briefly plagued her. Yes, Jasper asserted that his past was irrelevant, and he was not a man one wished to cross. However, she had a right to know if she would be lying on his behalf, or if there was indeed more to her thief-taker than met the eye. “As always, discretion is the rule, but more so in this instance. I don’t want Lord Gresham to be aware of my interest. And timeliness will be rewarded.

“Would you prefer me to see to it personally?” he offered.

“No. I need you here. We’ll be advancing the monthly tour of my properties to the day after tomorrow.”

“As you wish, Miss Martin. I will speak with my brother as soon as I depart.”

“If you could also ascertain the extent of the allowance he feels will be sufficient to support the endeavor, I will ensure I have the amount available before he departs.”

“Certainly.” He didn’t query her about the nature of her interest, which was why they worked well together. She did not like to justify her expenses to anyone.

“Thank you.” She managed a smile. “That will be all for now, Mr. Reynolds. I appreciate you, as always.”

After he left, Eliza glanced at the clock on her desk. Her nose wrinkled. The morning was gone, and the afternoon was rushing by as swiftly. Soon, she would be welcoming guests into her parlor and engaging in conversation so inane she wouldn’t remember later what she discussed.

She was disappointed Jasper wouldn’t be there. The time would be much more engrossing if he were. When she considered all the amusements used to enliven events that never engaged her-the pianoforte, singing, card games, and chess-she was taken by the realization it was a man best used as a blunt-force instrument who interested her most.

There were some days when Eliza actually enjoyed riding through Hyde Park, despite the torturously slow pace of the congestion and the need for endless smiling that pained her cheeks. Today was one of those good days. The soft breeze and gentle warmth of the sun were refreshing, and the need to prepare quick and appropriate responses to greetings kept her thoughts free of Jasper.

“You seem to be enjoying yourself today, Miss Martin,” the Earl of Montague said from his seat beside her. He’d arrived for their agreed-upon outing in a new and clearly expensive curricle. When he first began pursuing her in earnest, she’d wondered why a peer of seemingly substantial wealth would show such dogged interest in her of all people. Then she learned he maintained the appearance of solvency through prudence-and luck-at the gaming tables. It was a clever ruse and one few bothered to delve into.

She looked at him with a frown, slightly chagrined by her inability to navigate the social waters without bumping into things. “Is it so obvious that I usually do not?”

“Not so obvious, no,” he said, while deftly handling the ribbons. He maneuvered through the multitude of conveyances on South Carriage Drive with admirable skill. “But I’ve taken to paying close attention to you, Miss Martin. And I collect that you have little interest in Society as a whole.”

“To put it bluntly, my lord.”

Montague grinned, his teeth white despite the shadow cast by the brim of his hat. Of all her suitors, she would say he was the most attractive. His dark hair was so thick and glossy she thought it might feel like silk if she touched it, and his eyes were extremely expressive. Similar in color to Jasper’s, but nowise near as shuttered.

“I understand,” he went on, “that a woman loses a measure of freedom when she takes a husband.”

“Most vexing, to be sure.”

“And I appreciate your reticence. You see, I’ve come to the delayed understanding that people in general perplex you.”

Eliza’s brows rose. “You have?”

“I realize now I was going about this business of courting you all wrong. Most women want wooing-flowers and tokens of affection, focused attention, and the like.”

“The flowers you send weekly are lovely,” she said automatically, although she thought it a shame for such beautiful living things to be cut away from their source of nourishment.

“I’m gratified you think so. But I believe you wouldn’t miss them if I ceased making the gesture. You would not experience hurt feelings or attribute emotional reasons to my actions based on conjecture.”

He offered a genuine smile, and she stared, seeing a charm in it she’d missed previously. It was an aftereffect of Jasper that she was now overly attentive to other males. She wanted to discern why the thief-taker affected her so strongly.

“I am sorely inept at interpreting such things,” she agreed, adjusting the angle of her parasol to better shield her face. The slightest touch of sun on her nose would result in more freckles.

“No, you are perfectly reasoned,” his lordship argued. “And that’s where I erred. I was pandering to your softer nature, when I should have been appealing to your intellect. Therefore, I will not insult your intelligence any further. I’m in need of your fortune, Miss Martin.”

Intrigued, she shifted on the seat to better study him. “A novel approach, I must say. Quite bold.”

His grin held shades of triumph. “And you like it. For the first time in our acquaintance, I feel as if I have your attention in its entirety.”

Montague paused to tip his hat to Lord and Lady Grayson as they passed. When he looked back at Eliza, there was a new gleam in his eye, reminiscent of the way Jasper looked at her. It lacked the ability to make her breath catch, but she recognized it for what it was-the earl was suddenly more intrigued by her as well.

“The best approach to you is so obvious,” the earl continued, “that I’m quite put out by my failure to see it before. Whether or not I have elevated feelings for you isn’t of enough value to you to equal what you believe you will lose. In the simplest of terms, I haven’t shown you that I am a good investment.”

Captured by the uniqueness of the conversation, Eliza wished they were not in public so she could fully enjoy the surprise without interruption. “Please, go on.”

“First and foremost, the Montague lands are vast and with proper care would yield a tidy return.”

“Why isn’t the estate supporting you now?”

“My father suffered from a loose hand with coin, an untrustworthy steward, and a greedy mistress. I assure you, however, I am not my father.”

“Perhaps not, but you are a gamester, my lord. You have managed to do well enough with your winnings.” She gestured at his fashionable equipage. “But luck at the tables is a fickle thing, and certainly you would eventually contract mistresses of your own. Perhaps you will become smitten by a paramour who is also afflicted with avarice. I would not take kindly to destitution due to gambling or the waste of my funds on another woman who was enjoying the companionship of my husband. I expect to own the things I pay for, and I rarely lend them out.”

“Ah, so,” he said softly, with another warm glance in her direction. “You know, Miss Martin, the more I know of you, the more taken I am.”

“Today, I find myself enjoying your company as well. But forgive me, my lord, I have no desire to marry you.”

“There are other benefits.” Outwardly, nothing changed, but Eliza sensed a new weight of expectation, as if he were debating whether or not to continue with his thought. “Aside from financial considerations, there are other ways in which a man and his wife reach an accord. I want to assure you, you would not find married life to be distasteful. I’ve no wish for disharmony in my home. I would make every effort to see that you were satisfied in sharing your life with me.”

For a moment, she was perplexed by his statement. Did they not have an accord now? Then she recalled the conversation she’d had with Melville and Jasper about the things women wanted from men. Which led her to thinking about the things a peer would want from a woman…

“Are you referring to procreation, my lord?”

Montague visibly jolted. Staring straight ahead, he seemed unable to respond. And then he laughed. It was a full, open-throated sound that drew stares from every quarter. “No wonder you find the usual discourse less than interesting. Speaking one’s mind is much more stimulating.”

Eliza opened her mouth to reply, then shut it again as her attention was snared by a familiar shade of blue velvet. Montague’s carriage continued to move forward, but Eliza’s eyes remained riveted to Jasper, who sat astride a black steed just off the Row, watching her with the fiercely intense stare that set butterflies to flight in her stomach. Her response was so strong, it was unnerving. Her palms grew damp, conveying a heat that had nothing to do with the weather. It was rather like spotting a crouched panther in the brush, its rapacious gaze following the prey it intended to pounce upon at any moment.

Without conscious prompting, she straightened in her seat and her hand lifted to the brim of her simple straw hat.

Jasper was such a compelling figure, even the dappled light afforded by an overhanging tree could not diminish his vibrancy. A thrill of awareness moved through her, as did a strong appreciation for the sight of him. How long had he been there? She could have sworn he hadn’t been under that tree mere seconds before.

The earl spoke, drawing her thoughts back to him.

She tore her gaze from Jasper. “I beg your pardon, my lord?”

“Wed me,” he repeated. “I will give you things you don’t yet know you want. I understand you, Miss Martin. We are different in all the best ways. A collaboration between us would be to the advantage of us both.”

“I have a better idea. I will find you a more suitable candidate.”

Montague’s mouth curved. “You intend to play matchmaker?”

“In a fashion.” Eliza was keenly aware of Jasper’s gaze following her.

“Miss Martin, I want to be clear about my intentions. I’ve decided you will suit me best of all. I will not be easily dissuaded from my aim of proving I can complement you as well.”

“As you wish.” She sighed. “Please do not make a nuisance of yourself in the effort, Lord Montague. You’ve always been one of the more agreeable of my suitors. I should like you to stay that way, if possible.”

Montague laughed again and looked at her with sparkling eyes. “You are a delightful surprise. I wish I’d been wiser earlier in the Season.”

Eliza looked behind her to where Jasper had been.

He was gone, leaving behind a marked absence.

As Jasper urged his mount away from South Carriage Drive toward the adjacent Rotten Row, the member of his crew assigned to watching Eliza also turned with him.

“She has an eye for you,” Aaron White said, gesturing at another crew member further up the Drive who would continue surveillance.

Jasper nodded. He had come without thought. It wasn’t until he’d caught sight of Eliza that he realized why. A vague notion had played in his mind-a budding desire to see her glorious hair in sunlight-and somehow it led him here. Ridiculously sentimental. Completely out of character. Her time in his schedule had passed, and he had other matters to attend to.

“Of course,” Aaron continued, “you made certain she saw you.”

Jasper could shine in a crowd or hide among it in the space of a breath merely by making miniscule changes in his deportment and posture. He’d been an unnoticed observer until Montague said something to Eliza that snared her attention completely. Jasper had wanted to steal her regard, and he’d done so. “It’s best that she not seem too taken with any of her other suitors. Defeats the effectiveness of my plan to secure her safety.”

“And your pronounced interest in her has nothing to do with it,” Aaron teased, holding his reins loosely in one hand while the other rested atop his thigh. He was a young lad, short and stocky, a hard worker with three small mouths to feed. For that reason, Jasper kept him away from the more hazardous assignments. Watching out for Eliza was perfect.

“Her attractiveness makes the job more agreeable.” That was all Jasper intended to say on the matter.

Aaron’s gaze followed Montague. “The earl appears to agree. He seems genuinely taken with her.”

The sound of Montague’s recent laughter lingered in Jasper’s mind, and his gloved grip tightened on his reins. “She would be miserable with him. He cares for nothing so much as his own self-interest. I’m doing her a favor.”

“That’s one way of looking at the ruination of a proper society miss.” There was amusement in Aaron’s tone, which was understandable considering Jasper’s rule against dallying with ladies of quality. It was a rule he was clearly intent on breaking.

“I am not ruining her. She decided long ago she would never wed, and she reiterated that intention to me only hours ago.”

“And you’ll show her the joys of shagging, so she doesn’t die ignorant? Another favor? By God, Bond, you’re damn near saintly in your generosity.”

Jasper shot the younger man a fulminating glare.

Aaron raised both hands in a gesture of surrender. “You’re a shrewd businessman above all. Makes me right curious as to why you plan to stop short of the big prize. Since you’re taking her to bed, why not also take her to wife? Add her fortune to the other benefits of the association.”

“Wanting and wedding are two very different things. She would be equally miserable with me. I’ve no notion of how to keep a woman happy outside of the bedroom.”

“Don’t let her out of bed. Problem solved.”

“I am not amused.”

“Merely a suggestion.” Aaron grinned. “Not sure why I mentioned it, considering I benefit from your remaining just as you are now. If you became obscenely wealthy, you wouldn’t work so hard, and I would have fewer opportunities to earn my wages.”

Jasper’s gaze followed Eliza until Montague’s equipage was lost in the crowd. Out of sight, out of mind. He hoped. He withdrew his pocket watch and checked the time. Eliza would return home shortly and begin preparations for the evening.

How would she appear when dressed formally? Not that she would put any effort into it, which he found refreshing. Some women spent excessive amounts of time on their exteriors. Eliza’s most attractive qualities weren’t the most obvious ones. The hints of stronger passions were so subtle, even she was not aware of them. She was of the introspective sort, quietly curious and sharply intelligent.

Jasper, by contrast, preferred a more hectic pace of living. He kept his hours filled from the time he awoke until he couldn’t fight sleep a moment longer. Such preoccupation afforded less time to ruminate on the thorn wedged in his side. Eliza both helped and hindered in that regard. When he was with her, he was so mindful of her there was no room for awareness of anything else. And that was a problem. He could not afford to lose his focus now. Not when he was so close to achieving his aims.

He growled and tugged his hat lower on his brow, hating to be in public while so disconcerted. Over a spinster who thought he was too handsome and too dangerous.

“I shall leave Miss Martin in your capable hands,” he said.

“You might consider occupying your hands with a visit to the upper floor of Remington’s,” Aaron suggested. “To take the edge off.”

The prod to partake in the more carnal offerings at his favorite gentlemen’s club came from keen observation. Although Aaron’s observant nature was one of the reasons why Jasper had employed him, it was damned inconvenient when aimed in his direction. “Watch her. Not me.”

He turned about in search of another familiar figure. As luck would have it, he didn’t have far to look.

The gentleman Jasper sought was en route to him, weaving through the many riders with one hand lifted to his hat brim in perpetual greeting. Gabriel Ashford, ninth Earl of Westfield, was a gazetted rake of prominent family and fortune, which ensured that an inordinate number of female stares were directed his way. Although his exploits were known to include nearly every vice, there were no signs of dissipation marring the features that incited some women to swoon. He looked fit and lean, and his easy smile was on full display.

As Westfield drew near, his countenance changed subtly. The façade he wore so well slipped a little, revealing the true man beneath. A good and kind man whom Jasper had taken into his confidence. A gentleman he considered a friend.

“Good afternoon, Bond.”

Jasper tipped his hat. “My lord.”

“I saw you eyeing Montague.” Westfield drew abreast of Jasper’s mount. “Are you worried he’ll get his hands on Miss Martin’s fortune and settle his debt?”

“Actually, it was Miss Martin who held my interest.”

“Ah…I failed to collect that elusive bluestockings were to your taste.”

“Paying clients are always to my taste.”

“Interesting.” Westfield’s brows rose. “Why does Miss Martin require your services?”

Jasper spurred his horse into motion. The earl followed suit.

“What do you know of her and her kin?” Jasper asked.

“The Tremaine brood is unquestionably an odd lot, which makes them fiendishly easy to gossip about. The males are known to be brilliant to the point of madness, and the females are blessed with that stunningly beautiful shade of hair. Miss Martin seems to have inherited a bit of both traits in addition to her sizeable fortune. As for her parents, Mr. Martin was a man of trade and Lady Georgina was known to be charming and vivacious. Although Miss Martin seems as indifferent to men as her mother was appreciative, I’ve wondered if a deeper resemblance between them is simply untapped. Intriguing to contemplate.”

“Are you saying her mother was indiscriminate?”

“Lady Georgina was known to have a fondness for the social company of men. Does that mean she took many to her bed?” Westfield shrugged. “I cannot say. However, she married Martin immediately following her presentation. She would have had her pick of peers, but instead jumped into matrimony with a commoner. Why, unless it was a love match? And if it was a love match, I doubt she would stray.”

“What do you know of Mr. Martin?”

“I know his death was shocking to many. He was said to have a vigorous constitution. He was built like a laborer and often pitched in as one when the opportunity presented itself. A servant found him dead in his office when he failed to appear for supper. A weak heart was blamed.”

Jasper decided he would have to dig further back, before Eliza’s present-day suitors, to see if the trouble plaguing her had begun long before now.

Westfield inclined his head at a passing acquaintance. “Many have speculated that the vagaries of the family he married into might have hastened him to his grave. His due, so to speak, for his lofty marital aspirations. After his passing, Lady Georgina married again, to another commoner.”

A woman of high passions and a lack of prejudice. Did Eliza carry those inclinations? How delicious if she did…

Jasper shook off the tangential thought. “Miss Martin has a stepfather?”

“Had. Lady Georgina and Mr. Chilcott were killed together in a carriage accident before Miss Martin’s first Season. The poor girl has been sorely afflicted with tragedy.”

Did she grieve? Jasper wondered. Had she always been so detached from others or was that a recently acquired safety mechanism?

“Now tell me,” the earl said, “what has Miss Martin engaged you to do?”

“She has cause to fear for her safety.”

Westfield’s brows rose. “Truly? Who would want to injure her? She’s worth more alive than dead.”

“She believes someone-perhaps an overzealous suitor- is trying to goad her into marriage as a means of protecting herself. I haven’t yet decided if she’s correct, but hearing about her parents’ untimely demise only incites further concern.”

“How diverting,” the earl said. “Can I assist you in any way?”

“I was hoping you would ask.” Jasper reached into his pocket and withdrew the small book containing Eliza’s social calendar. It was an unavoidable fact that there were some doors he needed a peer to open. “I must attend as many of these functions as possible.”

The earl flipped through the small bound pages with one hand. “I see I will have to refrain from arranging a liaison tomorrow evening, so I can squire you about.”

“I appreciate your sacrifice,” Jasper drawled.

“I should hope so.” Westfield’s tone was droll. In truth, he enjoyed participating in Jasper’s work when the circumstances allowed. He was even known to become somewhat of a pest, if Jasper went too long without enlisting him for some task or another. “See you at ten?”

“Perfect.”

Eliza had just pulled on a dressing gown and settled in front of her vanity mirror when a knock came to her boudoir door. When bade to enter, a white-capped maid stepped in and curtsied. “His lordship asks for you, miss.”

“Thank you.”

Frowning, Eliza watched the servant back out of the room. She’d enjoyed tea with her uncle just an hour before, listening fondly as he spoke at length and with great animation about his latest botanical experiments. Once, their solarium had been filled with comfortable chaises and short bookcases. Now, it housed rows of long tables supporting various potted plants. Eliza didn’t mind the loss of her former favorite reading spot, appreciating how the experiments in the glass space exposed his lordship to sunlight and fresh air.

What would cause him to ask for her now, at an hour when she was beginning preparations for the evening’s social events? Perhaps he had an epiphany of some sort or something of a celebratory nature to share? He once woke her before sunrise because a splicing experiment yielded unexpectedly delightful results.

She stood and pulled a comfortable house gown out of the wardrobe. Then she called for her abigail, Mary, who entered the room from the bathing chamber and assisted Eliza in securing the row of buttons following the length of her spine. Despite skipping her chemise and stays, it took long moments to become presentable. Eliza tied a quick ribbon around her unbound hair and considered herself ready enough.

“What will you wear tonight?” Mary asked.

“Lay out three of your favorites.” Eliza opened the door to the gallery. “I’ll pick one when I return.”

She often left the selection of clothing to her abigail. It didn’t matter what Mary chose-Eliza always picked the gown on the farthest right. Her dresses were all impeccable, if unremarkable, having been created by a seamstress who was in high demand for her skill. The modiste had originally protested Eliza’s selection of colors that, while fashionable, did little to emphasize the hue of her hair. But eventually the hopelessness of the objections became patently clear, and Eliza was spared from hearing them. She felt it was only fair to avoid giving anyone the notion she was attempting to entice or set a lure. Since the most popular shades were pastels and she looked best in darker colors, there was no excuse for her to dress with self-flattery in mind.

She left the room and headed directly to the family parlor on the same floor. The door was ajar. A fire crackled merrily in the grate, and his lordship paced before it in his usual state of dishabille-mussed hair, lopsided cravat, and unevenly buttoned waistcoat sans coat.

Eliza entered with a brisk stride. “My lord?”

He faced her with a distracted smile. “I’m sorry to disturb you, my dear, but you have a visitor.”

She glanced down at her hastily composed presentation. “A visitor? Downstairs?”

“Good evening, Miss Martin.”

Jasper’s voice. A shiver coursed down her spine at the sound. Pivoting, she found him standing behind the door. His gaze was narrowed, his face austere. He was dressed in the same riding garments he had been wearing when she’d seen him in the park, but his cravat was less crisp and the outside of his boots bore traces of scuffing.

As they did every time she saw him, her thoughts skidded to a halt. It took her the length of several heartbeats to remember to speak.

There was no hiding the way her breath hitched when she greeted him. “Mr. Bond.”