Pride and Pleasure (17 page)

Melville set the latest post atop the leaning pile of mail in the basket by the door. Unable to bear the additional weight, the mass shifted to the side and dozens of letters tumbled to the floor. “Bloody nuisance,” he muttered, squatting to pick up the wayward missives.

Eliza joined him, raking letters toward her with widespread fingers.

“How odd,” he said to himself.

“What’s odd?” she queried.

“This seal.”

She focused on the black wax seal gracing the letter he held out to her. “It looks to be a sword crossing over . . . something.”

“An hourglass.”

“Interesting. To whom does that seal belong?”

“I’ve no notion. But there is another one . . .” He dug into the pile at his feet and withdrew a second letter bearing the same image in black wax. “See here.”

He opened the letter, dropping the others to the floor in the process. As he read, he frowned. Then, he grew very pale.

“What is it?” she asked, alarmed.

“It appears to be a threat of violence”—Melville held the letter out to her—“against you.”

S
tanding, Jasper set both palms flat on Eliza’s desk and surveyed the five open letters spread out before him. They were obviously all penned by the same female hand. The delicate swirls and flowing script were clearly the handiwork of a woman.

He glanced up at Melville and Eliza, both of whom sat in chairs facing him. “Are there more?”

“Those were all we could find,” Eliza said, looking remarkably composed.

“Do you have any notion of when the first of these arrived? Or the last?”

She shook her head.

Jasper’s fingertips drummed on the desktop. “This changes everything.”

“Yes,” she murmured. “It certainly does.”

Each missive warned Melville to retire with Eliza to the country or she would pay the consequences, completely contradicting Eliza’s original assumption that she was being pushed toward matrimony.

He looked at the earl. “Would you, perchance, be able to assist with the procurement of a Special License?”

Eliza jolted visibly. “Beg your pardon?”

“Special License?” the earl asked, frowning and scratching his head. “Who’s getting married?”

“I will take that as a ‘no.’ ” Jasper was certain Melville’s hair was even more of a fright today than it had been the previous times he’d seen it. “Perhaps Westfield can be useful in that regard.”

“Jasper.” Eliza no longer looked placid. “What are you about?”

Straightening, he set his hands on his hips. “It appears there’s a woman out there who perceives you to be a threat. It’s likely she has an interest in one of your suitors.”

“An unhealthy interest.”

“One can only hope that it’s Montague who has enamored her to the point of violence.”

She shot him an arch look.

His smile was unapologetic. “Regardless, taking you out of competition could likely remove you from danger straightaway.”

“Perhaps the news of my engagement will suffice, if we give it a chance to spread?”

“I would rest easier if you and I resided under the same roof.” In truth, he doubted he would rest at all if they shared a bed, but that was a topic for another discussion.

Melville nodded. “Quite right. I’ve proven to be unsuitable for the task of protecting you.”

Eliza’s gaze dropped to her lap.

“Eliza.” Jasper made every effort to keep his voice modulated. “I should like to hear your thoughts on the matter.”

She took a deep breath. “I’m not prepared to leave Melville at this time.”

“Is he your only concern?”

Her head lifted. “Am I overlooking something else?”

“No.” He relaxed. “I could take up residence here with you until the end of the Season. As your husband.”

The softness that stole into her eyes when she looked at him was worth far more than the concession deserved, but he wouldn’t complain about that.

“Would you?”

“I will do whatever you need.”

“Thank you.” Her smile lit up the room.

A surge of adrenaline pushed through him. Eliza would be his within the week. “Make whatever arrangements you need, but please avoid leaving the house whenever possible.”

She nodded.

“I will see to my end of things.” He cast one last glance at the letters laid out before him. Fury resurfaced with biting swiftness. He would find the author of the threats and ensure that the culprit never posed a hazard to Eliza again.

Marriage would not be the end of his hunt.

 

Jasper urged his horse away from Lambeth Palace. He cast a final look at the brick gatehouse and Lollard’s Tower, then set his hand lightly over the Special License tucked into his coat’s inner pocket.

Drawing abreast of him, Westfield said, “You have yet to tell me precisely what the letters said. Since their contents incited our mad rush to the archbishop, you have to know I’m overset with curiosity.”

“The missives were brief. A few lines each, almost in rhyme, with the same admonishment to retire from the city. Two made indirect references to sidesaddles and the Serpentine, both of which relate to accidents Miss Martin experienced.”

“Nothing about the falling statue at the Royal Academy? Perhaps it
was
an accident.”

“Perhaps. I’m at a disadvantage in many respects. I don’t know if the letters arrived before the events, which might suggest violence was not the culprit’s first choice. Or if the letters arrived after the fact and served as taunts.”

“Written by a woman, you say?” Westfield whistled. “There is some sense in that. A man who wished to prevent her from marrying could simply compromise Miss Martin.”

“I doubt she would have conceded, despite the damage to her reputation. She has an aversion to being managed and a limited appreciation for Society’s mores.”

“Truly?” The earl tugged the brim of his hat down as a shield against the late afternoon sun. “The more I learn of her, the more I like. Who would have thought a spinster’s sixth Season would cultivate such drama and intrigue?”

“Which begs the question: why now? Melville’s correspondence has been accumulating for years. His housekeeper was able to present a small trunk of past letters, and there were no threats prior to this Season.”

“I assume you won’t be abandoning your work in favor of a honeymoon?”

The mention of a honeymoon was all it took to fill Jasper’s mind with lascivious thoughts. “If only I were so fortunate.”

“You are extremely fortunate.”

Jasper’s brows rose. “Oh?”

“You knew precisely what you wanted, and made certain you attained it.”

Directing his gaze forward, Jasper pondered the somber note in the earl’s normally droll tone. “Is all well with you, my lord?”

“Of course. Nothing is ever wrong in my world, Bond. There are no surprises. No challenges. Equanimity rules the day.”

“There is something to be said for that.”

“Yes, it’s boring.”

Laughing, Jasper urged his mount into a canter, leaving the Thames behind. There was a great deal to be done before he could end the day. “You are welcome to stay in my world for a while longer, if you prefer. Never a dull moment.”

“Wait until you’re married,” Westfield drawled.

 

Jasper entered his house to the sound of raucous laughter floating out of the downstairs parlor. Behind him, Westfield barely stepped onto the marble floor of the visitor’s foyer when Herbert Crouch caught sight of them.

Herbert, who’d been leaning against the parlor doorjamb as if awaiting them, pulled his hands out of his pants’ pockets and straightened. He was one of Jasper’s most seasoned employees; old enough that his two grown sons also worked for Jasper. He lumbered over with a broad grin that peeked out from the frame of a bushy, unkempt beard.

The Crouches were an odd-looking lot as a whole. Herbert was of a height with Jasper, but considerably broader. Many of his progeny were near giants; the top of their sire’s head barely reached their shoulders.

Herbert mussed his wheat-colored hair with a meaty hand, disrupting the perfectly molded shape of his hat’s interior. “I ’ave news that might be interesting.”

Gesturing toward his study, Jasper passed his hat and gloves to his butler, but kept his coat on. The Special License in his pocket wasn’t something he was willing to allow out of his immediate reach.

He settled behind his desk. Westfield moved over to the console to help himself to the Armagnac. Herbert sank heavily onto one of the settees.

With libation in hand, Westfield faced the center of the room and leaned back against the console with his hip. He crossed his legs at the ankle and enjoyed a deep swallow of brandy. “How fare you, Crouch?”

Jasper studied him. The earl seemed to be imbibing more of late. If he continued along the same vein, Jasper intended to bring the matter up for discussion. It was not a subject he looked forward to broaching, but the health of his friend warranted his concern.

“As well as can be expected, mi’lord.” Herbert didn’t smile, which was unusual for him. Jasper knew the commoner was ill-at-ease conversing socially with an earl.

“How are Mrs. Crouch and your brood?”

“All are well. The missus is increasin’ again.”

“Again? Dear God.” Westfield took another drink. “How many children do you have now?”

“Eighteen. Until the birthin’.”

“You are a stronger man than I, Crouch.”

Herbert gave an awkward pull on his beard and looked at Jasper almost pleadingly.

Jasper took pity on the man and said, “Before you begin, it is important to know we’re now looking for a woman.”

“I knew it!” Herbert slapped his knee.

“Of course you did.” Jasper was more than satisfied with the strengths of his crew. Herbert in particular had an instinct for hunting, becoming quite dogged when he sensed something was amiss. “What did you uncover?”

“I still ’ave a few more questions of my own to answer ’bout some o’ the renters, but there’s one I’m fair certain isn’t what she says she is.”

“Who?”

“Vanessa Pennington. Aaron and I ’ave asked around, but we can’t find any proof of a Mr. Pennington. No ring on ’er finger, no papers or letters, no portraits—”

“Perhaps she keeps such sentimental items in a private place,” Westfield suggested.

“I checked,” Herbert said.

“How—?” Westfield paused. “Forget I asked.”

Jasper’s mouth curved. “Her residence is above the store, yes?”

Herbert nodded. “Aside from the agreement to rent the space from Miss Martin, I couldn’t find anything with the name ‘Pennington’ on it. But I did find several receipts and such addressed to ‘Vanessa Chilcott.’ ”

“Chilcott.” Jasper leaned back heavily into his chair. “Bloody hell.”

“A ne’er-do-well clan of thieves and miscreants.” Westfield straightened and took the seat opposite Herbert. “Perhaps their past success with Lady Georgina has made them bold in regards to the Tremaine family.”

“How is Vanessa Chilcott related to Miss Martin’s stepfather?” Jasper asked.

Herbert lifted one sturdy shoulder in a shrug. “Aside from praising her face and figure, the other shopkeepers in the area ’ad little to say ’bout her. She keeps to ’erself.”

Westfield snorted. “I’ve been told the Chilcotts are all remarkably good looking. Which is not enough to make
me
foolish, but clearly the same cannot be said of everyone, or the family wouldn’t be so successful in their subterfuges.”

Jasper averted his gaze. Eliza was too intelligent to miss seeing the parallels between her relationship with him and her mother’s with Chilcott. She had to overlook prejudicial experiences in order to extend her trust to him, which made her credence all the more valuable. He would have to tread carefully or risk losing something priceless.

“I want Miss Chilcott watched at all hours until further notice,” he told Herbert. “I want to know whom she speaks to, where she goes, and what hours she keeps. And I need to know how she’s related to Miss Martin.”

“I’ll see to it.” Herbert pushed heavily to his feet.

Jasper watched the man depart, then looked at Westfield. “I visited the Pennington store with Miss Martin, and she had no notion the proprietress was anything more than a stranger. Miss Chilcott, however, appeared to be greatly interested in Miss Martin.”

“That’s to be expected.” The earl made a careless gesture with his hand. “She is residing and conducting business in space owned by Miss Martin.”

“Miss Chilcott should not be aware of that fact. Miss Martin takes great pains to remain anonymous, conducting most transactions through her man of affairs. She believes it eases the way for everyone involved if her gender remains unknown.” Jasper rapped his knuckles against the desk in frustration. “Damnation. If I’d retained the sales receipt from my purchase, I could have compared Vanessa Chilcott’s penmanship to that of the letters Melville received.”

“I still don’t understand why Miss Chilcott would want to prevent Miss Martin from marrying. Pettiness?”

“There is an obligation created with their business relationship that doesn’t exist otherwise,” Jasper reasoned, “a legal agreement between two parties with responsibilities and ramifications on both sides. As a former step-relation, whatever grievance Miss Chilcott may have against Miss Martin clearly has no weight or she would have pursued it legally. Without legal basis, there’s no possibility of restitution. But as a tenant, if she was to create a circumstance in which Miss Martin was seen as liable for damages or loss of income, Miss Chilcott could possibly negotiate a financial settlement.”

“I see. Miss Martin is accountable as a landlord in ways she isn’t as a relation-by-marriage. Exploiting their business association for monetary gain wouldn’t be too far outside the realm of possibility, considering the Chilcott family’s larcenous reputation.”

“My thoughts exactly. It would also explain why Miss Chilcott hid her true identity.”

“But would an assumed guise withstand further scrutiny in a court of law?” Westfield queried.

“Assuming I’m correct, I doubt she intends her plan to go that far. If she was able to gain leverage of some sort against Miss Martin, I believe the result would be a quiet exchange of funds in order to maintain the business anonymity Miss Martin prizes. However, if Miss Martin had a spouse,
he
would have greater license to mount a public defense, because he would have no reason to hide.”

“Extortion is a nasty business. Best not to have anything requiring concealment.”

Jasper’s foot tapped restlessly. “I’m due to retrieve the balance of my purchases from Miss Chilcott’s store—customized items requiring preparation time.”

Westfield set his glass on the low table with a dull thud and rose gracefully to his feet. “I’m coming with you, of course. I should like to see what happens next.”