Pride and Pleasure (20 page)

“Body?” Eliza felt ill. “Dear God . . . Someone was caught in the fire?”

Jasper nodded. “Miss Chilcott went up to her flat to retrieve a special order and caught Terrance Reynolds in the act of setting the place ablaze. They fought, and she brained him with a poker. She barely made it out before the fire engulfed the space. I attempted to retrieve him . . . but it was too late.”

“Mr. Reynolds?” Eliza repeated.

Her man of affairs had been excruciatingly thorough in his vetting of prospective tenants. By God, he’d discovered Jasper’s ownership of the property Westfield wagered against Montague, despite the intricate nature of the inquiry and formidable time constraints. He would not have missed discovering that Mrs. Pennington was actually Vanessa Chilcott. Why had he withheld the information? What reason would he have to allow a Chilcott to rent space from her?

She looked at Vanessa. “You were his insurance. He hid your identity from me to use at his convenience. What role do you play in this subterfuge?”

“None.” Vanessa’s chin lifted. “I am more ignorant of this matter than you are.”

“What relation are you to my stepfather?”

“I am your stepsister.”

Staggered by the day’s revelations and the understanding that the employee she’d trusted so keenly had betrayed her, Eliza swayed on her feet. Jasper caught her close.

She clung to him. “I saw him only hours ago. He came with information about you. Information intended to make me doubt the wisdom of marrying you.”

He stiffened. “What information?”

“Your participation in the wager between Westfield and Montague over land in Essex. He suggested you offered for me as a way to prevent Montague from laying claim to my money, which would afford him the opportunity to reclaim his marker.”

“And you were not swayed by this?”

“No. Which left him no option, I suppose, aside from this last-minute attempt to delay the ceremony.” She looked up, finding Jasper watching her with a dark, fierce gaze. “But it would only delay the inevitable. Surely, he knew that. What was his aim? I had no intention of releasing him from his position. His circumstances would not have altered.”

“We’ll uncover his secrets, love.” He sheltered her in his embrace, anchoring her as no one else in her life ever had. “I promise you that. Every last one of them.”

W
ith Westfield at his side, Jasper escorted Eliza and Vanessa Chilcott into the Melville residence. Disheveled and reeking of smoke, the four of them were incongruous in a household prepared for the celebration of a wedding. They stood shoulder to shoulder in the foyer, hard-faced and bemused.

Lady Collingsworth hurried from the ballroom where the ceremony was to take place and came to an abrupt halt a few feet away. “Dear God,” she muttered. “The parson awaits you, but it’s clear I should reschedule.”

“No,” Eliza said, astonishing Jasper. “If he can wait an hour, I can be ready.”

Recovering, Jasper said, “I can be repaired within an hour as well.”

Blinking rapidly, Lady Collingsworth took in Miss Chilcott’s appearance.

“Regina,” Eliza said briskly, “this is Miss Vanessa Chilcott, my stepsister. Vanessa, this is the dowager Countess of Collingsworth.”

“My lady,” Vanessa whispered, curtseying.

Admiration and pride filled Jasper. He could think of no other woman who would wade through the morass of the day’s events with such aplomb. Eliza could have left Miss Chilcott to her own devices after learning the truth of her identity. Instead, she had asked one question of the woman—“Why?”—to which Miss Chilcott replied, “I want to be self-sufficient and independent. Who better to learn from than you? And how else to manage it, but to shed the Chilcott name that has defined my life thus far?”

Eliza had offered to take the woman in for now, since Miss Chilcott’s residence and all her possessions had been lost in the fire. At the very least, it kept the woman close while they delved into her circumstances. They would address other considerations tomorrow.

“Miss Chilcott will need a bath and a room,” Eliza said. “If you could see to that, Regina, I would be deeply grateful.”

“Of course.” Lady Collingsworth looked at Jasper. “You have visitors, Mr. Bond. In the parlor.”

Jasper met Eliza’s querying gaze by extending his arm.
I go where you go,
she’d said, and despite everything, she wished to be married to him with as much haste as he felt. He treasured her for that and countless other things.

Westfield set off to join the handful of other guests in the ballroom. Jasper and Eliza moved into the formal parlor. There were five people in the room. The Crouch twins, Lynd, Anthony Bell, and Mrs. Francesca Maybourne.

Surveying the group with raised brows, Jasper wondered why the lot of them was in attendance. He was about to ask that very question, when Eliza spoke.

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Reynolds,” she said softly. “After today’s events, I was not expecting to see you again.”

 

“I went to the jeweler,” Lynd explained, “but Bell was nowhere to be found, which raised my suspicions.”

Eliza continued listening to the recounting of the second half of the Reynolds’s plot with a heavy heart. While she was deeply grateful for the plan’s failure, she was painfully conscious that the hazard would not have existed if Jasper wasn’t determined to destroy Montague. How much of his energy was focused on that endeavor? Would she ever have all of him? Or was the largest piece of his heart given to the woman from his past whom Montague had destroyed?

And yet she had to take heart. He’d come to marry her and sent Lynd after Montague in his stead.

“Sometimes,” Jasper said quietly, “what looks too good to be true is precisely that.”

Lynd nodded. “It was wise of you to send the Crouches with me. Together we watched the street for close to an hour and we noted one hackney that was a fixture the entire time. Patrick walked by it and—aided by his tremendous height—was able to see Mrs. Reynolds waiting inside with a pistol in her lap. I sent Peter to fetch Bell so he could confirm the story she gave us. Bell didn’t know her, but apparently she knew enough about him, you, and Montague to create the perfect lure to draw you out. We brought her here to see what you thought of it all, having no notion her identity was false or that Miss Martin would know who she truly was.”

Eliza eyed Anne Reynolds with something akin to hatred, an emotion she’d never truly felt before. “Were you going to shoot Mr. Bond? Was it your intention to kill him?”

The brunette lowered the sodden kerchief she’d been sobbing into since learning of her husband’s demise and glared daggers at Jasper. “That isn’t his name. I have no notion what his given name truly is, but I can tell you his surname is Gresham. He is the son of Diana Gresham, who was a whore for Lord Montague until her death from a wasting disease.”

Jasper became so still it frightened Eliza. “Moderation would be wise,” he warned with dangerous softness.

“I know everything about you, Mr. Gresham,” Anne spat. “I told Mr. Reynolds to share what he knew with Miss Martin. After all, she’s the one who hired my brother-in-law to investigate your connection to Lord Gresham in County Wexford. ‘Tell her he isn’t what he says he is,’ I told him, but he insisted Miss Martin had only to believe you wanted her money to set you aside. He also feared rousing her concern if she was to learn he never recalled Tobias from Ireland. ‘She might wonder what other orders I’ve disobeyed,’ he said. He should have listened to me.”

The explosive tension in the room was palpable. Eliza rushed to fill the void before Anne could ignite the situation further. “You wrote the threatening letters Lord Melville received.” It was not a question. “Why? What purpose did this all serve?”

Anne’s chin lifted and she looked away. “As if I would say anything further. I have done nothing wrong.”

“What of the incident at the Royal Academy?” Jasper asked with ice in his tone.

“Dear God. You cannot think we had anything to do with that! We are not murderers. I’ve had enough of this.” She stood. “You have no right to detain me.”

“I’ll be taking you in to Bow Street,” Bell said, rocking back on his heels. He was a short and slender man, almost delicate looking. “We’ll see if the magistrate agrees with you. ’Til then, sit down.”

“That’s an expensive cape you wear,” Jasper noted. “And sizable emeralds at your ears and throat. Either you came into your marriage with money, or Miss Martin paid your husband exceedingly well.”

Unaccustomed to noting such things, Eliza reevaluated the woman’s attire. Anne Reynolds’s ensemble did indeed seem far finer than Eliza’s own accoutrements. She looked at Jasper. “How? I manage my own funds . . . keep my own ledgers . . .”

“You do not deal directly with your tenants. Who collects the rents?”

“Mr. Reynolds.”

“Right,” Lynd said. “Is it possible what you believe you are charging and collecting isn’t what the tenants are actually paying to Reynolds?”

Eliza paled. “I suppose it’s possible, if he was clever enough about it.” Which she knew he could have been. She looked at Anne, who was also wan, if defiant. “If he raised the rents over time without my knowledge, or charged for miscellaneous items of which I wasn’t aware. We should ask Miss Chilcott and my other tenants. Dear God . . . they are all as much victims as I am.”

“That’s likely why Reynolds wanted Bond dead,” Bell said. “Once you had a husband to assist you, the embezzlement might’ve been discovered or Reynolds’ duties reduced. I’m sorry I didn’t believe you when you hired me, Miss Martin. Let that be a lesson to me in the future.”

Jasper remained deadly quiet and expressionless.

“This was to be my last Season,” Eliza said softly. “I intended to retire to the country with Melville, at which point a greater portion of my affairs would have been left in Mr. Reynolds’s hands. He and his wife were so close to achieving their aims that my sudden decision to marry Mr. Bond must have made them desperate.”

“If you marry him,” Anne said coldly, “you deserve what comes to you. At least Mr. Reynolds was concerned about building your wealth. Gresham, I am certain, intends to squander it.”

Eliza pushed to her feet, unable to bear any more. “I shall leave this matter to you, Mr. Bell. I’m confident you will apprise me of the necessary information.”

The Runner gave a curt nod. “Of course.”

“Mr. Bond,” Eliza murmured, which caused Anne to laugh. “Would you accompany me, please?”

“In a moment,” he said without inflection. “I’ll find you.”

Eliza made her egress on wooden legs, wondering if she would, indeed, be found, or if Jasper would now be lost to her. Perhaps he’d never truly been hers to begin with. For all their promises to be truthful to one another, it seemed they’d kept more secrets than they’d shared.

 

Jasper reached the top of the staircase and turned to the right, following the directions to Eliza’s room that Lady Collingsworth had given him. If the dowager countess thought it was inappropriate for him to ask for them, she gave no outward indication. Instead, she told him the parson was having a fine time with both the champagne and Lord Westfield’s witty discourse, and he’d agreed to stay as long as they wanted him to.

Inhaling deeply, Jasper lifted his hand to knock on Eliza’s boudoir door. As he waited for her to answer, he struggled against the feeling of being made of glass; he felt as if he might break at any moment. Perhaps it was the endless string of unexpected revelations that had him so unsettled. Or perhaps he was simply experiencing a bridegroom’s expected nervousness. He thought it might be terror over the prospect of losing something irreplaceable, but he didn’t have any frame of reference to be certain.

The door opened, and Eliza stood there. She was in a dressing gown, and her eyes and nose were red. He remembered when they’d first met, he’d thought her pretty enough but no raving beauty. He couldn’t comprehend that determination now. He was certain she was the loveliest woman he’d ever seen.

Stepping back, she made room for him to enter, then she shut the door quietly behind him.

Her rooms were decorated in the same hues of cream and burgundy as his own. He noticed that immediately, and took an odd sort of comfort in the similarity. He shouldn’t forget how alike they were in the most fundamental of ways. If only they could strip away their exteriors and bare that affinity . . .

“I should have told you—”

They spoke and ended in unison. Startled to have said the same thing at once, they stared at one another. He waited for her to speak first. After the day’s revelations, she deserved the opportunity to give him a tongue-lashing.

Her hands tightened the belt at her waist. “I hired Tobias Reynolds in the beginning, when I knew nothing about you. You said the connection between you and Lord Gresham would withstand greater scrutiny, and I told myself I was only confirming the claim before someone else had a mind to. But I recalled Mr. Reynolds from the task before he reported anything. I wanted you to be the one to tell me whatever you felt I should know, in your own good time.”

Jasper nodded and linked his fingers behind his back. “I should have told you about my mother. I knew I would have to, but I thought we had time—”

“We do.” She stepped closer. “All the time you need.”

“The time is now, Eliza. You should know me before you wed me. I couldn’t bear for you to turn away from me after you’re mine.”

“I cannot turn away. I love you.”

His eyes closed on a shuddering breath. “Eliza—”

“I don’t want you to say anything,” she interrupted quickly, “until after we are man and wife. I need to marry you with my heart, not my mind. I need to trust in my own instincts, over my reason, so I can make the changes necessary to be what you require, to be whole. I need you to know I accept you just the way you are, without reservation or doubt, so you can—God willing—someday grow to love me, too.”

Eliza was defying all of her routines, setting aside habits of a lifetime, deliberately making one concession after another. . .
for him
. She was determined to leave herself open to trusting him, even when everything suggested she shouldn’t.

“I love you,” she said again.

He looked at her. She’d taken a seat upon one of the settees with her hands clasped demurely in her lap. Insanely, that aroused him—the vision of her so controlled, when he knew how wild she could be in his arms. It was the way she revealed her deeper self when they were intimate, even more than the physical pleasure, that drove his sexual craving for her.

“I am undone,” he said hoarsely. “You rule me completely. I would do anything to possess you.”

Eliza’s hand lifted to her throat, her fingers wrapping around the graceful column. He crossed the room to her and caught that alabaster hand. Jasper pressed a kiss to the back of it, then moved to the tips of her fingers. He licked the end of the one that would bear his ring by the close of the day, and she shivered. Her lashes lowered and her lips parted on soft panting breaths.

Opening his mouth, he sucked the slender digit inside, swirling his tongue around it until a whimper escaped her.

The sound of surrender freed him from any restraint.

He reached down and opened the placket of his breeches with his free hand. His cock fell heavily into his palm, so thick and hard he fisted himself to stave off his hunger.

“Jasper.”

His mouth slid free of her trembling fingers. “I need you.”

 

Eliza fumbled with the belt at her waist. Jasper sank to the floor on his knees and pushed up her chemise, his hands rough with impatience. He caught her hips and tugged her down to his lap, her legs straddling his. The cleft of her sex pressed against the silky length of him.

He caught her nape in his hand, forcing her to look straight into his eyes. “I need to be in you.”

“Yes.” She grew slick with welcome due to the heat of his rut. She loved him like this, uncontrolled and lustful.

He shifted her, urging her up and then over him, the thick crest of his penis gliding along her slit and nudging her clitoris. She moaned and caught his shoulders, tense with impatience and greedy for pleasure.