The Secret Marriage Pact

by Georgie Lee

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

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘But?’

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

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

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

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

  ‘He wants to marry you.’

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

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

  ‘He did.’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  * * *

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  * * *

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  * * *

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

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

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

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

  ‘And upstairs?’

  ‘Private rooms for men to conduct confidential business.’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  ‘Did it now?’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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