“Jasper.”
“Yes?” He braced himself for her next words.
“I know I shouldn’t be here alone with you in this back room hoping you’ll kiss me or—”
“Jasper!” Randolph’s voice resounded in the front office, a note of urgency diverting all attention.
Jasper dropped his hands, indicating with a finger to his lips Miss Shaw should remain silent, then left the room and hurried to see what had Beaufort in high dungeon.
“What the devil? You can’t come into the office hollering like a tosspot at the top of your lungs.” He advanced to Beaufort in three angry strides. “What is it?” He forced the question through clenched teeth, furious with his friend’s untimely arrival.
“It’s Kellaway.” Beaufort held up a hand as if to temper his approach. “He’s taken it to the street in Hanover Square.”
“We just spoke and shared luncheon. He sounded resolved. What has changed? A further issue with his father?”
“Yes, nothing embarrasses the man, and it’s the worst this time, a brawl concerning Kell leaving London.” Beaufort shook his head for emphasis. “We need to get to George Street. I’ve a hack at the curb , and came to collect you as soon as I heard.”
“Very good.” Jasper grabbed his hat from the rack on the wall. “One minute more.” He eyed Beaufort and then hurried to the back room, but he needn’t have worried as Miss Shaw waved him away, aware of the urgency of the situation without him uttering an explanation. He paused before turning the corner in lament of their unfinished business and offered her a rueful smile, one he hoped expressed his disappointment. Then he rushed to join Beaufort and be off.
Kellaway. An uncomfortable sensation shivered through her, yet no, that wasn’t it exactly. This recurrent feeling was more of a strange kinship. There was a time when she scoured the newspapers for any tidbit of information regarding peerage and their societal adventures, but her father changed all that. Since his departure, she dared not look at a copy of Debrett’s nor take an interest in the gossip rags.
Still something urged her to the curb where she hailed a hackney in anxious flight, a bird on the wing, and headed to the address Beaufort had blurted out in honest panic. If Kell meant to leave London, Emily needed to see him once more if only to discover the reason she sensed an unexplainable bond with him, inordinately moved by his problems, not so different than her own.
She arrived at George Street to a fair degree of pandemonium. A crowd had formed, at least fifty people encircled the square itself, where she surmised Kellaway stood at the center. Ripe to riot, the group of cits, commoners, and dayworkers composed a mixture of classes rarely comingled, most definitely not in tearooms or ballrooms. People continued to flood forward. The anxious crowd walled the square in speculative formation with a density thick enough to deter the hackney driver into stopping early, unwilling to enter the mêlée.
Emily paid the driver and approached the growing mass with wary trepidation. She hadn’t anticipated the scene, her eyes scanning the area from street level to above where windows were snapped open allowing onlookers to gain a better view, a few curious lads dangled from a small terrace. Carriages and carts were abandoned, so the gossip-hungry could gain their full share of the odd incident and provide rare and lively conversation around the dinner table.
She remained too far from the fray to perceive what occurred at the center, though the alternating hushed silence and discordant cacophonic uproar could only indicate the viscount and his sire produced a good show of angered repartee. Edging closer, she observed the bystanders, glued to the entertainment and unaware of her intrusion as she maneuvered her way to the innermost circle.
But as she grew closer, people pushed and shoved, angered words were muttered, as everyone sought the best vantage point. A brief flash of alarm kicked her pulse faster, but she continued to weave a path through the crowd, determined to gain an unobstructed view of the spectacle. At last, she slipped between two gentlemen who’d begun their own argument and turned toward each other in confrontation, thus allowing the access she needed. She gathered her skirts close, stepped over someone’s abandoned hamper and gained a narrow place to stand with a clear line of vision.
At the center of the square, two men stood on opposing sides of an ornate fountain, both evidencing signs of fisticuffs turned shouting match, the unlikely display riveting the turbulent mob. A gasp caught in her throat, stuttering her breathing, halting logical thought for a long moment. But oh, that was the least of what shocked Emily. The impact of her recognition hit her with supreme force. She might have fainted were she not wedged so tightly against the crowd, surely the realization that impactful.
“Miss Shaw, what are you doing here?”
Jasper appeared out of nowhere. He grasped her arm too tightly, the severe censure of his question echoed in his hold. She needed little remonstrance. The square was no place for a young lady, most especially as the invigorated crowd shifted and swayed to gain scrutiny of the spectacle.
“I heard what Beaufort said in your office and I needed to see Kellaway one last time. Still…” She paused and glanced from Jasper to the men in the square and back again. “I can’t believe my eyes.” She shouted the words to ensure she’d be heard, the onlookers’ murmurings rising to a collective clamor and then at once silenced as Kellaway’s voice rang out.
I’m tired of your broken promises and ignominious antics. You disparage my mother and shame me as your heir.
A wave of conversation swelled within the crowd as they gestured in poor taste and yelled their crass opinion of the two noblemen displaying their familial discontent as if a play on Drury Lane.
Jasper’s expression turned grim. “You shouldn’t be here. It’s dangerous and unseemly.”
She bit back a defiant retort, aware of the truth in his statement yet refusing to allow panic to overwhelm her. “I had to come.” It was no excuse, but all she could offer.
Jasper’s brow furrowed, his attention divided. “I’m here only to aid Kellaway. Look around you. This mob is volatile with the potential to turn riotous at any moment.”
As if he’d conjured evidence, the crowd swelled from behind, forcing Jasper forward. He sheltered her with his body as if he feared she’d be caught up and carried away. Alarm thrummed in her chest.
“Selfish philanderer.” He shifted his eyes from her face to the argument in the square and back again. “The older man there, that’s Kell’s father.”
“That’s my father.”
Jasper’s confusion narrowed his eyes, and then all at once, he jerked his head upward as if a great reckoning occurred. He brought her closer to his side, as if to offer a protective wing, all the while staring at her with curious intent.
“Yes, it’s true.” She nodded in solemn acknowledgement. “That man is my father and so Kellaway is my brother.”
“Half-brother,” Jasper countered in a hard tone.
“Brother enough, it would seem.”
In front of them, the two men continued to circle the fountain, trading accusations and threatening violence to which the rabble reacted with approving incitement. Her pulse jumped, realizing the potential for peril were the bystanders to become disorderly. She’d pushed her way to the center of the fray and therefore made her wellbeing all the more vulnerable, trapped on all sides by spectators more interested in aristocratic embarrassment than their mundane routine.
“How could you not know?” Jasper shook his head in obvious disbelief.
“I never wanted to know. My father didn’t care, and I cared too much.” She wouldn’t apologize for her choices. Everything seemed to make sense now, the manner in which she was drawn to Kellaway as if they shared a connection, only to discover they did after all.
As if Jasper read her thoughts and recognized the depth of emotion and magnitude of her realization, he clasped her hand tighter. “Come this way.”
He angled his body to protect hers, taking the brunt of those who shoved and elb
owed as they wove through the aggressive horde. Still she wasn’t immune, jostled twice with such force her teeth rattled. He locked her to his side in the nick of time as spectators forced their way forward and a swift change transformed the crowd from curious gathering to erratic upheaval; sparked by the clash of classes, livid with the peerage’s sense of entitlement and distempered display.
Three lads with new whiskers, old enough to know better, bucked their way through, breaking her hold on Jasper’s hand. In her rush to recover, she stumbled, the last of the trio’s boots snagging her hems and propelling her forward before she could regain balance. The fear of being trampled thundered in her chest until she was swept to her feet, a frantic glow alive in Jasper’s eyes as he once again held her safe.
A few commoners voiced a sneering remark as they passed, recognizing them as quality, but at last, when Emily feared she’d be lost to the surging throng, Jasper broke them free, wrapped a possessive arm about her shoulders and wordlessly led her into a carriage-clogged alley. At last he stopped against the bricks of an imposing building and released her. She wobbled until his quick capture of her elbow ensured she would not collapse, though he allowed barely another moment for her to regain balance before he yanked her into his arms with a hard press of the lips. Perhaps to confirm she was indeed all right and under his protection.
“I need to remove you.” He grasped her hand again and pulled her further from the square, a flurry of hostility left in their wake. In a purposeful rush, he maneuvered around carriages and abandoned carts. A rumpled broadsheet caught in the breeze and wrapped around her ankle before it broke free and continued its skitter across the cobbles. A pie man’s enthusiastic call to customers cut through the distant rumble of the mob left behind, the shrewd merchant recognizing the opportunity for profit. Sights and sounds became a blur. Eventually Jasper slowed, his backward glances assuring her safety and the ability to keep pace before he hailed a hackney a few streets over.
“This is no place for a woman. You must return home.” His grouse brooked no discussion, although his eyes softened as he handed her into the hack. “Go directly to Nelson Square. I will instruct the driver of a circuitous route.” He continued to issue orders, adamant in his instructions and she nodded, a little numb by the swift-paced events of the afternoon and the commanding possession of his kiss.
The hack jolted forward, capturing her unaware as she looked back for a last glance of Jasper, but he’d already gone.
Chapter 26
“You’ve caused quite a stir this time.” Jasper poured another measure of brandy and glanced to the clock, noting it neared midnight. Having spent the evening negotiating a truce of sorts to extricate his friend from the tumultuous scandal caused by a public display of animosity, the quietude of his study proved a welcomed sanctuary.
“It was bound to happen, an inevitable conflict caused by my father’s lack of discretion and blatant disregard for my mother’s reputation.” Kellaway sank into a chair, his expression a mixture of anger and exhaustion.
“So you say, though I’ve heard the same spoken of her dalliances, Kell.” Jasper said the words softly, though they were honest.
“Her poor choice in retaliation to his years of neglect.” The viscount murmured his answer. “One can only endure so much insult before lashing out.”
The room remained silent for a time, and then Jasper broke the quiet. “Miss Shaw arrived amidst the chaos. Having overheard Beaufort’s bellow for my assistance, she decided to follow.” He tamped a smile at the mention of her name.
“That one is a spitfire, headstrong and passionate in her beliefs.” Kellaway punctuated his statement with a misplaced bark of laughter and smile of private amusement.
Jasper eyed his friend. His fists flexed at what he suspected would follow.
“I’d like to explore her fiery stamina between the sheets.”
Jasper forced his fists open, bit back his immediate retort, and swallowed the remaining brandy in his glass. “Then you’d have crossed a line even I know you’d find reprehensible.” He paused to gain his friend’s attention. “Miss Shaw is your half-sister. A fact she discovered upon arrival to Hanover Square where she witnessed her father at strife with her half-brother.”
“Ha! An interesting twist, isn’t it?” Kellaway shot to his feet. “My father, the scourge, has been at debauchery for decades, fathering children on the other side of the blanket without a care for responsibility or reputation.” All humor absent, his voice rich with disgust, he strode to the decanter and splashed more brandy, downing the liquor in one gulp. “And she, yet another of his victims, her mother a discarded paramour. No wonder Miss Shaw looked at me with a quizzical eye. Apparently she experienced something out of place. Unfortunately the saucy minx is an opportunity missed.”
“Choose your words with care. I’m not above offering you further pain notwithstanding the adequate pummeling you received today.” Jasper’s words held a menacing note of warning.
“It’s of no matter. I’m for Brighton in the morning.” Kellaway dropped his glass to the table, indifferent to its fragility. “I warned you I couldn’t remain in London were my father to spend the season and my prediction of doom has come to fruition. Bearing in mind the concurrence of our unresolved ongoing conflict and the gossip we’ve ignited today, I’ve no desire to stay. No matter it was poorly done of us both. I’ll be gone before sunlight crests your windowsill. Nothing holds me here.”
“You have a sister who wants to know you, or speak to you at the least.” Jasper knew well Kell could not be forced to do anything he didn’t choose, but a hope that he’d feel some shred of obligation forced Jasper to cajole him.
“I have nothing to say that would interest the lady.”
The response contained a fair amount of tergiversation despite the absence of hesitancy.
“Let her decide.” Jasper stepped closer. “Make time tomorrow.” His forceful tone underscored the adamant command hoping to convince his friend.
“She’ll be in London when I return, whenever that may be.”
His blithe answer ignited Jasper’s anger. “You’ll make time.”
“I can’t rearrange my plans for every by-blow my father leaves strewn across the countryside.” Gone was any reasonable tone. Kell’s capricious attitude added another layer to the thorny situation.
“I hope that is alcohol speaking more than conscience.” Jasper exhaled a deep breath. “You’ll spare time for Miss Shaw tomorrow morning.”
“You’re that taken with her then?”
“This isn’t about favors repaid despite I risked my life interceding in the familial mess you exploited in the square—” Frustration raised his voice.
“He deserved the humiliation.” Kell snarled his response.
“Not the matter at hand.” A quick flash of Miss Shaw’s stricken expression when she’d stumbled and his heart constricted for fear he would not reach her in time, laced his words with unharnessed veracity. “Speak with her.”
“As you like, Jasper. I’m nothing if not loyal to a friend.” Kellaway dared a complacent smile.
“Then I will see you tomorrow, as tonight I am wrung out.” He spared not a look over his shoulder and made for the stairs, ignoring Kellaway’s throaty chuckle as it followed him from the room.
Sleep had become her enemy, evading her efforts as her mind spun with questions concerning Kellaway and her father, her mother’s affair and at last, Jasper’s fierce protection. Now she stood before her mother’s bedchamber door anxious for answers to at least one of her problems. With determination to understand the truth and set her life to rights, she’d settle the turmoil of her past and be free to plan the future. Still, her fist hung in midair, resolve evaporating with the worry of her mother’s unknown temperament.
She stalled, considering Kellaway and the unlikely truth he was her sibling. At least this discovery solved the ambiguous puzzlement she’d experienced from their first walk in Bandlewit’s garden. She’
d attempt to find Kell this morning and acknowledge their relationship for no other reason than peace of mind. She didn’t wish to complicate his life, nor hers.
Squaring her shoulders she gave the door a sturdy knock, her mother’s bid to enter in quick return.
“I’ve come to check on you. I know I’ve upset you with my actions and words. Perhaps if I could understand more fully…” Her words trailed off in wait of any sign her mother was receptive of conversation, but instead time stretched, her mother’s expression processing a variety of emotions, none of them encouraging.
Mary entered amid the silence.
“Miss Emily, you have a gentleman caller. I apprised him of the unseemly hour and requested he return later in the day, but the viscount insisted I inform you now of his arrival.”
The housekeeper handed Emily a card and as she read her mother sidled to her elbow.
“Lord Kellaway. How dare he set foot in this house.” Bianca stormed from the room, Emily following behind to clatter down the stairs and arrive in the hall in tandem much to Kellaway’s surprise.
“Get out.” Bianca Shaw pulled her shoulders back, her slender posture held with indignation. “You have no right.” She waved her hands in a frantic motion as if shooing a pesky insect from the kitchen.
It was the wrong thing to say to Kellaway. The viscount considered himself an eclectic combination of pariah and paragon. One did not bully Benedict Hampden, Viscount Kellaway. Emily understood the subtle shift in his posture, as if he barely aborted the reply on his tongue.
“I am here to address Miss Shaw. No one else.”
Emily took a bold step to intercede, but her mother also advanced.
“My daughter will have nothing to do with you. She wants for nothing from your father.” A note of hysteria laced the words.
“Her father,” he countered, unaffected by the show of emotion.
“He filled our accounts and left us behind, so you’ve won that battle. He is your father. He has not returned, and as I’ve come to realize, he never shall.”
Undone by His Kiss Page 20
