by Georgie Lee
‘You sound like my brother.’ She crossed her arms in front of her. ‘And I’m perfectly aware of the seriousness of a union, which is why I think one based on friendship is the best kind. Don’t you agree?’
‘No.’ He didn’t even hesitate in his answer. ‘As much as I respect and admire you...’
‘Don’t.’ She held up one hand, humiliation clipping her words. ‘That’s the drivel your brother tried to placate me with when he returned from Scotland with his simpering wife. I expect better from you, Jasper.’
‘All right, you’ll have it.’ He dropped the lothario act and spoke to her as he had when he’d told her there could be nothing between them once he left for Georgia. ‘There are extenuating circumstances preventing me from marrying anyone, even an old and valuable friend.’
‘You’re already married?’ It wouldn’t surprise her. Everyone appeared capable of finding someone except her.
‘No.’
Well, this was a small relief. ‘Betrothed?’
‘No.’
‘Keeping a mistress?’
‘Of course not. Where did you get such an idea?’
She tilted her head in pride. ‘I’m not a complete innocent. I read novels and the newspapers.’
He stroked his smooth chin with one large hand. ‘And yet you are, aren’t you?’
‘If we married, I wouldn’t be, now would I?’
His eyes flashed the same way they had when she’d turned around to greet him yesterday. ‘No, I don’t suppose you would be.’
‘It’d be quite an honour for you.’ She lowered her head and peered up through her lashes at him, imitating the young ladies she usually scoffed at during parties. She felt like a fool doing it, but she was willing to try anything to persuade him, even the promise of something more carnal.
‘That’s one way to put it,’ he choked out through a laugh.
‘Then why are you objecting?’ She dropped the dewy-eyed pose, having expected him to respond with something other than humour. She was losing him as much now as when he’d set sail and she couldn’t. She was tired of being a failure and she wouldn’t fail at this. ‘You need me and you know it.’
‘Yes. I always have.’ A loss greater than their mere time together, one she’d experienced the day her mother had died, and in the many years since, filled his words. Whatever had happened in Savannah, it’d scarred him like her parents’ passing had damaged her. He did need her the way she needed him and for more than just a club.
‘Then why are you refusing me?’ she asked in a softer tone. It made no sense.
* * *
Voices from downstairs filtered up through the floorboards. He should insist she return to her brother, but he hesitated. She was offering him the building, her help in establishing a legitimate venture, and something his fifteen-year-old self would have sold his soul to acquire. But a wife? He was struggling to keep everyone out of his affairs, not searching for ways to draw someone deeper into them. Except this was Jane. If anyone could help him make a go of his club it was her, but he couldn’t ask her to share his secret and to deceive her family the way he was deceiving his. Nor could he risk her realising the terrible man he’d become in Savannah, not when she viewed him as an old friend still worthy of her affection.
The time ticked by on the ornate dolphin clock perched on the excessively gilded bedside table while he racked his brain for a delicate path out of this indelicate situation. He needed a reason why he was refusing her, one she wouldn’t try to logic her way around or hate him for saying.
‘Be honest with me, the way you used to be,’ she demanded.
I can’t be, with you or anyone. Nor could he wilfully hurt her. She’d taken a risk by approaching him and he admired her too much to treat her as poorly as his brother had. Despite his not having written to her while he was gone, she’d still believed in him and their mutual past enough to ask him for his future. If he told her even one of the real reasons behind his refusal, it would put her off him and this idea, and he wasn’t ready to pull himself down in her eyes.
There was a more subtle and less hurtful way to make her abandon this notion of marriage.
He stepped closer, affecting the smile he used to employ with agitated gamblers in Savannah, smooth, charming and convincing. ‘Because I’m not sure you could handle the level of honesty I’m prepared to offer you.’
‘What do you mean?’ She didn’t step back and he inhaled her flowery scent. It was lighter and more alluring than the cloying mixture she’d fancied at thirteen, the one which used to remind him of her whenever he inhaled it on a passing woman in Georgia. He might not have written to her after he’d sailed away, but she’d never really been far from his thoughts.
‘Your brother wouldn’t approve of the match.’
‘I’m past the age of needing his permission to marry.’ She waved her hand in dismissal, her fingertips grazing his chest before she pulled them back. Her faint touch raked him like a pitchfork. She must have felt it, too, because she clasped one hand in the other and nervousness softened the crease of irritation between her eyes.
‘You shouldn’t approve of me either.’ He pressed his palm against the wall behind her, all the while ignoring the curves indicating her maturity. He must convince her to forget him by giving her a reason to run from him, no matter how much he wanted to slip his arm around her waist and pull her closer. ‘You see, I don’t want to marry. I want to enter into a less formal arrangement.’
Her gaze slid along the firmness of his bicep beside her ear, then traced the line of it to his face. She frowned at him. ‘You want me for a mistress?’
Jasper swallowed hard to keep from laughing. Jane was nothing if not blunt and practical. She always had been, as well as headstrong and impetuous. It was a delightful combination of traits he still enjoyed and hated to drive away. ‘You could say that.’
He allowed the suggestion to linger between them as if it had been hers and not his. Jane’s lips parted in uncertainty, her full breasts hugged by the fitted yellow spencer rising as she drew in a long breath. He pressed his fingertip tighter into the wall, glad he hadn’t removed his breeches for fear he might embarrass himself as he imagined her agreeing to his idea. It’d be a disappointment to them both if she did. He’d done a lot of dishonourable things, but he would never ruin Jane by following through on his suggestion. However, the temptation in her blue eyes, the faint brush of her breath across his naked chest almost made him relent. He could lean down and claim her lips and at last learn what they tasted like, after considering it so many times when they’d both been young, curious, and for the first time aware of one another as more than friends. He moved his head a touch lower, wondering if the old curiosity, as opposed to a desire for a business, had really brought her here. Whatever her motives, it was time for her to leave before someone discovered she was up here.
‘Jane, are you in there?’ Mr Rathbone’s voice carried in from the hallway.
Jasper’s fingers stiffened against the wall. Too late.
‘How did Philip figure out I was in here?’ Jane ducked under his arm and began to pace in the centre of the room, revealing how much she did care about her brother’s opinion.
Jasper picked up his shirt and tugged it on. ‘The new maid must have seen you. The woman is a busybody.’
Jasper had been forced to slip past her to leave the house late at night numerous times. What she was doing up at those hours he’d never discovered, but he suspected it had something to do with his father’s brandy and if he could he would soon see the woman dismissed.
‘Jane. Are you in there?’ Mr Rathbone punctuated his question by pounding on the door.
‘I must hide.’ Jane rushed to the large wardrobe in the corner, then stopped. She glanced back and forth between Jasper and the door, the plotting narrowing of her eyes bot
h familiar, and terrifying. ‘If Philip catches me in here, he might insist we wed.’
Jasper stopped tucking in his shirt. She didn’t know her brother very well if she thought he’d force her into a marriage, even after finding her in a compromising situation, but he couldn’t take the chance. He strode up to her, tugged the shirt over his head and flung it away. ‘I think not.’
He took her by the arm and pulled her against him. She let out a startled squeak as she hit his chest.
‘What are you doing?’ Her fingertips pressed into his flesh, jarring him as much as her.
‘Jane, open this door at once,’ Mr Rathbone demanded, and the brass knob began to turn.
‘Making sure he sees me as an unsuitable suitor.’ He pressed his lips to hers as the door swung open.
* * *
Jane barely heard her brother’s angry breaths or Justin Connor’s howl of laughter from the hallway. Jasper’s warm mouth on hers consumed her entire attention. It made her knees weak and she shivered as Jasper slid his tongue out to tease hers, his large hand against her back pressing her firmly into his bare chest. There could be an entire crowd watching them and she wouldn’t notice, all she wanted was for him to lay her on the bed, slide up her skirts and satisfy the ache making her almost moan. He didn’t so much as move a hand down to grasp her bottom, but broke from the kiss and leaned back. A shock as powerful as the one he’d sent hurtling through her coloured his own hazel eyes.
This was definitely not how she’d imagined this plan unfolding.
* * *
‘What the devil were you doing?’ Philip’s voice was so even it made Jane cringe. He hadn’t said a word to her during the entire carriage ride home. Not even Justin, who leaned against the French doors of Philip’s office watching them as if they were a theatrical performance, had dared to break the icy chill. Philip hadn’t spoken until they were settled in his office with Laura and all their past quarrels and disagreements beside him. Jane preferred the silence. It was less lethal.
‘I was trying to reach an agreement with Jasper about the building.’ She straightened the tortoiseshell comb in her hair, attempting to remain calm and level-headed, but with Jasper’s sandalwood scent still clinging to her spencer it was difficult. ‘He didn’t agree to my terms.’
‘It didn’t look like it when we stumbled in on you,’ Justin observed through a restrained laugh.
‘Don’t you have a wine shop to see to?’
‘This is much more fascinating.’
‘Justin, please.’ Philip rubbed his temples with his fingers, addressing Jane once again. ‘You decided to discuss the matter with Mr Charton alone, in his room, while he was undressed?’
‘It wasn’t my intention when I first went upstairs, at least not the portion where he was undressed.’
‘You shouldn’t have been up there at all.’ Philip dug his fingers harder into his temples while Laura and Justin exchanged amused looks. Not so Philip. He dropped his hands to the blotter and pinned her with a seriousness to still her heart. ‘You risked ruining your reputation and our relationship with the Chartons, and for what?’
My freedom, she wanted to cry, but she bit it back. He was right, again. With her ridiculous plan, she’d risked more than minor humiliation or the disapproving tsking of merchants and their wives. The Chartons were good enough friends to be discreet about the matter, but they weren’t a family renowned for keeping secrets. There were too many of them. It would only be a matter of time before someone heard of this and it would end whatever slim chance remained of her some day finding a husband.
‘Ever since Mrs Townsend married Dr Hale, you’ve been stubborn and wilful,’ Philip stated.
‘She hasn’t been so bad since my mother left,’ Laura said, trying to soothe him. Given Laura and Philip’s past, and the way she’d snared Philip by surprising him in his bath with a pistol when she and her mother had been on the verge of ruin nine years ago, she was the last to pass judgement on Jane’s behaviour.
‘No, she’s been worse than usual.’ Justin chortled.
Philip glanced at Justin who took the none-too-subtle hint for him to leave.
He winked encouragingly at Jane as he passed, but she couldn’t muster so much as a tight smile to reward his optimism. He would go home to his wife and children. When this was over, Jane would still be alone.
Laura remained behind, the pity in her eyes adding to Jane’s disquiet. She didn’t want to be pitied by anyone, for any reason. There’d been enough of that in the weeks after Milton’s betrayal and years ago after she’d lost her parents.
Philip rose and came around the desk to face her, his anger fading to brotherly concern. ‘What’s wrong, Jane? Tell me the truth and we’ll find a way to deal with it.’
She stared at the portrait of their parents hanging behind Philip’s desk, too ashamed to look at him. He’d guessed her plan today had involved more than a desire to be wilful, but she couldn’t explain to him the guilt and aching loneliness carving out her insides, and how it always grew stronger around the anniversary of their parents’ deaths. He would try to banish it with logic and reason. Jane had learned long ago certain notions couldn’t be dislodged with either. ‘I told you, I want industry of my own.’
‘But that’s not all of it, is it?’
In his tender voice there lingered the memory of him holding her the morning their mother had died only a week after their father had passed. She’d cried against his chest and followed him around for the next month, clinging to him because she’d been afraid he’d die, too. He’d never pushed her away, but had kept her by his side until the day she’d finally been brave enough to let him out of her sight and go play with Jasper. Even when she’d been thirteen and doing all she could to disobey him, he’d never failed to love her. He was the only one, and she was at last succeeding in driving him away, too.
She screwed her eyes shut and forced back the tears. Everyone she’d ever cared for—her father, her mother, Jasper, Milton, even Mrs Townsend—had all abandoned her and it was her fault. She hadn’t done enough to keep their affection, like she hadn’t behaved well enough to keep her mother from going away.
‘Perhaps we can discuss it,’ Laura offered.
Jane opened her eyes and took in the two of them standing side by side. It was meant to be a show of compassion, an attempt to reach out to her, but it only pushed Jane further inside herself. Their happy union drove home her growing isolation and how far down in importance she was to everyone.
‘There’s nothing to discuss.’ It would sound childish spoken aloud. There were many people who loved her, but each of them had their own lives while she hovered on the periphery, watching theirs unfold while hers was stuck like a coach in the mud. ‘I’d like to be alone now.’
If they didn’t leave, then all sorts of immature things might tumble out of her, along with tears.
Philip nodded, took Laura’s arm and escorted her from the room.
Jane stared out the French doors to the blooming roses in the garden, her mother’s roses. She struggled hard to remember her mother tending them, her old dress dusted with dark soil, oversized gloves covering her hands. If Jane closed her eyes she could just catch the faint scent of her mother’s lilac perfume above the wet earth, hear her melodious voice calling for Jane to bring her the spade. It was the only clear memory she had of her mother and she wasn’t sure if it was real or something she’d created, like the image of a happy life with Milton.
How much enjoyment will he derive from this little incident? It’d taken her ages to face everyone again after he’d eloped with Camille Moseley two weeks before their wedding. She didn’t relish having to endure more ridicule or proving to everyone he’d been smart to do it because she was nothing more than an obstinate hoyden. Philip was right—instead of making things better for herself, she’d once again made
them worse.
Jane marched to the doors, threw them open and stepped outside. She stopped on the shaded portico to take in the sun-drenched garden. At the back was a high wall broken by a metal gate, separating the Rathbone garden from the alley and mews behind it. There’d been many family gatherings here, parties and celebrations, quiet moments, and one or two daring ones. It wasn’t a comforting sight, but a confining one.
No, this won’t be the extent of my life.
She stepped into the sunlight and allowed its warmth to spread across her face. Today might have been a disaster, but it was one of the first times in nine years that she’d been adventurous, and alive, and it was all due to Jasper. She craved more of what she’d experienced today, not the guilt and humiliation in Philip’s office, but the heady delight in Jasper’s embrace and the pleasure it’d ignited inside her. She stared at the pink rose bobbing on a bush in front of her. This was dangerous. Emotions weren’t supposed to play any part in this plan, yet they’d slipped in between them the way his tongue had between her lips.
She touched her mouth, remembering his wide-eyed amazement when they’d parted from the kiss, and his more pressing reaction lower down. Perhaps it was good he’d tried to dissuade her from the union by acting the rake. It’d stopped her from making more of a fool of herself with him, as she had at thirteen.
She flung her hands down to her side. No, this wasn’t about some silly girlish infatuation; it was about seizing a future and she must make him see it. Hurrying in to her brother’s desk, she snatched up the pen and set a blank sheet on the blotter. In swift strokes she told Jasper Philip was considering forcing him to make her an honourable woman and they must discuss it before he took action. She didn’t like lying to him, but it was the only way she could think of to tempt him here so she could overcome his objections. After all, he’d said he needed her and he did, as much as she needed him.
* * *
‘What the hell were you two doing?’ Jasper’s father blustered while his mother sat embroidering, as sensible and calm as her husband was agitated.
