Undone by His Kiss

by Anabelle Bryant

  Standing before him in her jaunty little bonnet, all butter-yellow and creamy skin, he wished away the sunlight, wanting instead the quiet night, the moonlit sky, the opportunity to whisk her away to keep all to himself within his arms, between the sheets, beneath his barely restrained desire.

  But that was just a daydream. One he entertained often, as it were, like a fascinating discovery or novel invention, he was compelled to view over and over again. Here in the middle of London on one of the busiest thoroughfares, he couldn’t very well act on the fantasy, could he?

  His lust for Miss Shaw would be the death of him…and somehow he supposed, he’d happily volunteer to die.

  “Mr. St. David? Jasper?”

  Her soft spoken questions provoked his growing problem and he shifted his stance in search of comfort. “Yes, of course.” Although he remained unsure of where the conversation had wandered.

  “Ladies, we should proceed upstairs. Our supplies will arrive shortly.”

  She herded her sheep with a rigid command that echoed his current condition below the waist.

  Before she turned, he caught the twinkle in her eyes, the mischievous gleam that announced she spoke of libations, a near forbidden subject for ladies of civilized ilk. Meanwhile, Miss Maddox, who suffered from a severe bout of flirtation, abandoned the fawning adoration aimed in Randolph’s direction and with obvious dismay meandered after Miss Shaw to rejoin the private conversation near the side door.

  Realizing he’d been dismissed, Jasper returned inside with Randolph where they set to work writing up the documentation necessary for Penwick’s associates to invest in the steam hammer proposition. Having an earl and his comrades take interest in his fledgling business was promising, but in order for Investive Investments to thrive, Jasper needed several more clients. As surmountable a task, he vowed with determination to see his endeavor succeed for no other reason than to prove his brother wrong.

  A scrape of furniture reverberated through the ceiling and he wondered at the noises above, an occasional burst of laughter or snippet of loud conversation more intriguing than columns of numbers forecasting profit and loss. What were the ladies doing? Had the spirits arrived? He imagined six, eight or more ladies sprawled on chairs and sofas, asleep from a half glass of sherry.

  But no, his wicked imagination didn’t quit there. In a dim corner, seated alone, Miss Shaw reclined on a velvet chaise, not at all somnolent, but rather just enough in her cups to let inhibition slip away. She’d removed her clever bonnet allowing waves of glorious chestnut hair to spill in tussled disarray across her bare shoulders. Bare shoulders? Yes, it was his fantasy. Bare shoulders.

  “Jasper.”

  Randolph’s bid for his attention obliterated his playful musing and tugged him to the present with an abrupt sense of dissatisfaction.

  “What it is?” He clenched his teeth to invoke patience.

  “Do you think I should help the miss out there?” Randolph pointed to a tall slim woman dressed in a light shade of grey, who struggled to carry two overlade baskets as she walked in their direction.

  “Absolutely not.” Jasper was on his feet before the words left his mouth. “Continue to review Penwick’s accounts. I need a breath of fresh air anyway.”

  Outside, he inhaled heartily and offered his services. Miss Danford agreed without pause and as they climbed the stairs to the upper office, Jasper smiled for some inane reason he couldn’t identify.

  Miss Danford’s entrance was met with greetings of friendship and enthusiasm which came to an abrupt end as soon as he crossed the threshold.

  “Margery, why is Mr. St. David assisting you?”

  “Doesn’t that contradict the fiber of our league?”

  “Are the baskets filled with liquor?”

  “You might have asked one of us to help. Why didn’t you fetch me when you arrived?”

  Questions peppered the girl like unexpected hailstones and taken aback by the querulous assault, Margery as he’d come to learn her name during the initial greeting, shot her eyes to his. Inclined to answer and anxious to set the record to rights, Jasper placed the baskets on the floorboards and faced the inquisition, plucking the answers like feathers from a goose.

  “Ladies, excuse my intrusion. It was pure sensibility when I noticed Miss Danford’s struggle to manage the heavy parcels and offered my services. I sought to help as a point of quotidian civility as there’s no need to struggle up the staircase with baskets of glass bottles when I’m located directly downstairs.” He set to work removing the spirits and lining the bottles up along the table edge as if soldiers in formation. When he finished, he turned to face them all though his compliment was aimed at Miss Danford. “Well done, Margery. You’ve managed to obtain a taste of everything, although I doubt anyone here will enjoy the bite of your father’s imported scotch whiskey.”

  “Thank you, Mr. St. David.” Miss Shaw separated from the nine members who watched the interplay with insidious acuity. “We appreciate your help although we would have managed. It’s the crux of this assembly, to acquire independence for all tasks, whether carrying a heavy basket or tasting a strong spirit.”

  “Allowing me to carry a weighty package does not encroach on your league’s core beliefs. As I mentioned before, not everything can be achieved without a man’s assistance nor should it be.” He quirked a half smile in answer. “Lest you forget our waltz or more so our—”

  “Thank you again, Mr. St. David.” She commanded him to leave with flared eyes and an anxious wave of both bare hands. He might have chuckled if he wasn’t so captivated by her urgent expression.

  “How does one open this?” Miss Maddox selected a wine with a diffident approach as if handling the glass bottle would make it explode. She tilted the neck toward her nose and stared at the cork with narrowed eyes and a bewildered expression.

  “Allow me.” Jasper approached the table and rifled through the contents of the basket. He made quick work of arranging both bottle and tool for demonstration purposes. “The corkscrew.” He raised the utensil in his right hand and smiled broadly. “An invention born of necessity and patented almost twenty-five years ago.” He paused to ensure he had a captive audience, and oh, he definitely did. “Simply push in hard, maneuver until you have a good tight fit, and then pull out with a swift thrust. Repeat if necessary.”

  He placed the corkscrew on the tabletop beside the open bottle and raised his eyes to meet the congregation suddenly all too aware of what he’d said, how it sounded, and the roar of utter silence in his ears. Miss Maddox suffered significantly as she attempted to stifle a burst of laughter, but Miss Shaw and several other league members had all turned a remarkable shade of crimson.

  He waited, unsure if he should ever open his mouth again and horrified he might have embarrassed the passive sensibility of the ladies, but then Miss Shaw, ever their valiant leader, stepped to the forefront and extended her ungloved hand in issue of a handshake.

  “Thank you. I’m sure we’ll…”

  She paused too, but whether to extend his mortification or reassemble her thoughts, he’d never know.

  “Forever remember how to open a liquor bottle.”

  He’d only taken two steps on the stairwell when an outburst of feminine laughter clamored in his ears.

  Chapter 14

  It was several days later when Jasper laid eyes on Miss Shaw again. He was leaving the office as she arrived, and taking a nod from his brother’s reserved nature, he tipped his beaver cap and continued to the street to hail a hackney. He resisted the urge to initiate conversation, still appalled from his garish corkscrew demonstration, and refused to look over his shoulder as he imagined she paused by the side door, searched for the key in her reticule and proceeded inside as was her ritual. He’d memorized every action, seeing it in his mind’s eye despite he desired to watch the true action transpire. He hadn’t taken time today to note the color of her gown or style of her bonnet and he’d regret his hasty departure later, but for no
w he persevered.

  Boarding the hackney that pulled alongside the curb, he gave the driver his brother’s Kirby Park address and settled on the bench, anxious to join the flow traveling down the thoroughfare. Traffic was unusually heavy this time of day and the carriage had nowhere to go, leaving the open conveyance all that much more exposed with the knowledge Miss Shaw stood in eyeshot only a few yards away, beyond temptation. At last, when he thought he might explode from frustration, he succumbed to the relentless urge, knowing he’d curse a blue streak for missing the opportunity to at least glance in Miss Shaw’s direction.

  His eyes met hers as the hackney jerked forward, the driver yielding into the flow of traffic, and Jasper couldn’t ignore the perplexed expression on Miss Shaw’s face as he pulled away, leaving him to wonder what she might be thinking by his slapdash retreat. Slouched against the worn bolster he had the forty-minute ride to contemplate what the lady’s despair might signify, setting him in a black mood unsuited for his intent to discuss business with Dash, despite several businessmen had come to call recently and he possessed an optimistic outlook for continued success.

  His arrival at Kirby Park was met with felicities and greetings, the servants pleased to see him again. At least, that was something. He wondered what Dash would counter when he proposed the earl invest in his enterprise.

  He hadn’t visited his childhood home in nearly a year, separating from the estate and acquiring his own apartments as his brother took a wife and planned the refurbishment of the manor and its properties. Time and neglect, as well as a severe spell of financial paucity, left Kirby Park in sad disarray. Almost every corner of the house needed repair. Apparently Dash had set improvement underway prior to his travel. With pride, Jasper noted the renovations were enabled due to his keen investment sense. Would his brother acknowledge the accomplishment? The unanswered question lingered on the periphery of his visit.

  Passing gingerly through the hall where windows lay open in wait of ornate glass installation, Jasper eyed the workmanship and discerning decorations with appreciation. Workers painted, plastered, and scaled ladders to hang everything from crystal chandeliers to wall coverings in varied areas of the house. Servants bustled to and fro with intent and purpose. For a long moment, Jasper stalled at the center of the activity, discombobulated by the fierce activity but equally impressed by the extensive redecoration.

  “Jasper!” Wilhelmina, Whimsy as she preferred to be called, stepped lively down the long staircase, careful to avoid the freshly painted wainscoting, before she rushed toward him with a firm embrace. “It’s so wonderful to see you. Our wedding trip proved magical, but how I missed my sister, aunt, and your delightful company.”

  Whimsy’s sister, Livie, resided with their Aunt Kate in Mayfair. Livie worked daily to recover from a past carriage accident that impaired her mobility and Jasper knew his sister-in-law had every intention of bringing her family to Kirby Park once the renovation was completed. Other more personal hopes and objectives piggybacked Whimsy’s goals for Livie’s health improvement. The country air would do her a world of good as well as the spacious surroundings, but Wilhelmina also mentioned planning an official come-out for her younger sister, if for no other reason than to recoup some of the social gaiety lost due to her illness. First things first, of course. Kirby Park needed repairs and restoration and Livie needed to recover completely.

  “And how is your family? I suspect your aunt and sister must be eager to see you and hear of your extensive travels.” He removed his hat and looked for an appropriate spot to place it, quite relieved when a servant appeared to whisk it away, as everywhere he spied was covered with sheeting, fresh paint or wet plaster. “Has Livie’s health continued to improve?”

  “Yes, I’m quite anxious to see them.” Wilhelmina beamed with her usual effervescence. “Aunt Kate wrote me that Livie is dancing. I can hardly believe it, after all the pain and suffering she’s endured my sister will soon have the season she deserves. As long as she continues with the therapy Dr. Morris has prescribed and exercises daily, I’m confident next season Kirby Park will host a ball like none society has ever attended.”

  Jasper’s eyes flared with the niggling question of whether Dash shared the exuberant planning of his wife, although despite the earl’s stern business sense and disciplined moral fiber, his brother proved a veritable pussycat when it came to pleasing his new wife.

  “That is very good news. I do hope to make the cut on your invitation list.” His brotherly teasing gained another brilliant smile from Wilhelmina.

  “Who knows? You might be married by then, Jasper. I might have a child. So much can change so quickly. While a new season seems terribly far away to plan and ponder, with a touch of serendipity, new circumstances might surprise us all.” She delivered her little speech with a twinkle in her eye while they meandered across the foyer.

  Jasper punctuated her prediction with a good-natured chuckle. “Speaking of siblings, where is my brother?” He skimmed his attention across the expansive foyer and back again.

  “He’s taken refuge from the painters and carpenters in his study. It’s the one place no renovations are necessary.” Wilhelmina moved down the hall. “He’ll be happy you’ve arrived so promptly and be encouraged by your visit.”

  “Will he now?” Jasper assumed Dash expected him to acquiesce, admit failure and abandon his business venture. To take heed to older brother’s convoluted advisement. Wrong on all counts. “I hope to see you later then. Remember…” He paused to smile. “You’re my favorite sister-in-law.” He bade Whimsy goodbye and approached the study with a realignment of mood and expression fixed to portray his watertight resolve. At last, he breeched the quiescent atmosphere.

  “You’ve arrived.” Dash stood with Jasper’s entry and rounded the engraved mahogany desk. “Perfect timing really, I’ve just finished some overdue correspondence.”

  “Excellent.” Jasper settled on a nearby upholstered chair. “The improvements appear to be going well. Father would be proud.” He glanced to the faded portrait above the fireplace and studied the image with genuine affection.

  Dash cleared his throat. “I would hope so.” He poured two glasses of brandy and settled them on the blotter before sitting on the corner of his desk in a casual pose. “So, have you considered my advice from earlier in the week?”

  “That was advice?” Jasper strove to keep his tone even. “You were rather impassioned, pacing, arms flailing. I surmised you were issuing edicts.” He spared a tight grin, though he wished to rail at Dash, to remind his brother of how it was his investment that saved the earldom, and how mistaken Dash was concerning his business acumen.

  His brother scoffed. “You’re setting yourself up for failure. You don’t know anything about money except how to spend it.”

  “You weren’t saying that last year.” Jasper flicked a glance out of a nearby window, aware the discussion would advance to no good end.

  “Come now, you can’t wish to take this stance. Our security is a fluke, one which I will guard with judicious vigilance. Recovery from Father’s gambling debts and your inveterate habits all but caused our ruin.”

  “You exaggerate.” He wouldn’t look Dash in the eye. How could his brother behave so obtusely?

  “You’ve a history hard to ignore.” Dash took a long drink, staring at the glass on the tabletop as if deliberating his words with thoughtful consideration. “Last year, you played a game of odds and cashed in because probability predicted after endless failure, one idea was bound to pay off. But a smarter man would count himself lucky and quit while ahead rather than run the risk of tempting the odds and finding himself at an impecunious end.”

  A solemn silence followed this discourse until at last Jasper could hold his tongue no longer.

  “It’s near impossible to explain my motivation when your mind is already decided; your demeanor inconversable and attitude inveighed against my plans for the future.” Jasper stood, no longer of the ambition to enli
ghten his brother. Let Dash discover his own mistakes. “I’ve no white feather to wave under your nose. You’ve urged me to find purpose, but take imperious offense to my pursuit of a legitimate worthwhile business venture. It is a far more honest enterprise than wagering.”

  “What of reputation? Why would the brother of an earl wish to enmesh himself in the work of the classes?” Dash’s tone expressed pure exasperation.

  “Why not?” He paused, discouraged but not surprised. “You’ve always had an eye on reputation, drawing a distinct line between lowborn and highborn, too proud to see the good in the world that exists on all levels. This temperament suits an earl well and I mean no disrespect, but I am a different man. You should accept me without prejudice as you find me. I’m your brother above all else.” He waited a breath more, in futile hope his brother would break the quiet with some kind of compromise, but nothing was forthcoming. After another long minute, Jasper made a silent exit, leaving without further goodbyes, happy to distance himself from his brother’s arrogance.

  Emily rose from the writing desk and walked to the large glass window overlooking Bond Street. She shouldn’t have stayed so long without practical reason, except this respite offered much-needed calm and provided the perfect excuse to avoid her mother’s unpredictable moods. Bianca experienced particularly difficult days of late, refusing to eat but the scarcest of meals and spending most of her waking hours sequestered in her bedchamber. She allowed only Mary an occasional visit to clean or remove food service. Any initiative by Emily provoked her mother’s temper and further agitated the situation leaving Emily to wonder how her mother passed the entire day without speaking or leaving her chambers.