Undone by His Kiss (20 page)

Randolph beamed with satisfaction and well he should, as it was a job well done.

“I agree. Did you bring along Mr. Perry’s rubber bands?” Jasper eyed him with curious intelligence. “Did you secure an appointment for him to visit our office?”

“I thought to leave the important business to you, although I don’t believe the rubber bands are accomplished as of yet. Perry expects your visit.” Randolph slapped him on the shoulder. “With Penwick invested as well as his associates, and now this account, we’re on our way to establishing a foothold in success.”

“Surprisingly lucid reasoning, my friend. I do agree.” The morning had taken a turn for the better. Now if he could somehow spend time with Miss Shaw, there would be no other descriptor for the day except spectacular.

Emily sat in the window seat of her bedchamber, her thoughts heavier than the cloud-filled sky, an onslaught of rain imminent. She’d spoken to her mother, who remained in a cheerful, clearheaded frame of mind and while Emily resisted the temptation to believe her mother’s maudlin disposition had resolved, the desire to feel a sense of normalcy thrummed a hopeful beat. Unbidden, long buried memories of her parent’s arguments filtered back, reminding all was not happily ever after as told in childhood fairytales. Her father was a strong, proud man, her mother equally devoted, yet they lived a love story riddled with disastrous circumstances and fated for heartache from the first day, the first kiss.

Sighing, lost in the gray despair of the past, she sagged across the pillows and laid her palm against the cool glass, her charm bracelet tapping against the pane. As if she’d conjured the weather, raindrops struck the window and she found her tears matched the steady downfall outside. She had no new reason to cry. The scars she carried were formed years ago, the wounds healed over with denial and resentment, anger and rebellion. Yet instead of the usual refusal of emotion, when she swallowed hurt and denied emotion, Emily allowed her tears to fall. Perhaps if she cried long enough, the pain would diminish, the burden she carried would dissolve and she could look toward the future with a new-found freedom.

Another image followed, this time Jasper St. David. She leaned forward and rested her forehead on the glass, blurring raindrops and teardrops against cool relief. Jasper posed an unexpected obstacle in her determined plan to live an independent life. Yet this morning, her friends had detailed the difference clearly, perhaps understanding her purpose better than she did herself. She’d kissed Jasper three times and each time he’d stolen a little piece of her heart. They were just kisses, weren’t they? Why should they affect her with such impact? Just kisses…not promises, nothing more.

Wiping away her sadness, Emily sat up and released a cleansing breath. In a ricochet of thought, she remembered Kellaway’s unhappiness, and the despair she’d seen in his eyes no matter he attempted to hide it with a hooded expression of derision. Something indecipherable scratched at her curiosity, lending disquiet to the matter. She had no idea, no notion of what the feeling implied or why she experienced an incoherent sense when they were together. She’d never met him before. Surely she’d remember his title or handsome ruggedness, the viscount’s appearance one that marked a female’s memory. Yet it wasn’t his comely face or fine-cut clothing. Peers with their haughty demeanors, well-heeled and poorly mannered, were not her favorite fare. Still, she would have remembered Kellaway for no other reason than to catalog him with the other lords who’d met with disapproval. But that was not the case. The usual automaticity of dislike absent, despite she’d observed some of Kell’s behaviors were often characterized by the entitled.

Something else urged she know him better.

But for the life of her, she couldn’t imagine why.

Chapter 21

Two days later, suppressing considerable restlessness, Jasper sat in his office, his focus homed on completing the necessary paperwork to secure investors in Perry’s invention. He’d spent the better part of yesterday debating whether or not to call on Miss Shaw, deciding in the end to abandon the desire and rededicate his attention on establishing credibility, thus the meeting with Mr. Perry and his newfangled rubber bands proceeded swimmingly.

The last thing he needed was the distraction of a pretty woman who wanted no involvement or said the same but kissed him with tenderness and unabashed passion. The contradiction could cause a sane man to volunteer for Bedlam. So he’d made his resolution, reaffirmed his dedication, and stood firm. After which he’d spent the better part of yester evening regretting the decision.

It wasn’t as though he’d never see her again. Her office was located upstairs. Today the League of Virtuous Equality had a scheduled meeting. He knew that with certainty. He’d marked the calendar and checked twice. He watched the window with care. It was more so the niggling notion that he might never
kiss
her again and that didn’t sit right at all. As a matter of fact, he refused to accept the possibility and filed it away in his mind as a subject of discussion for another day when his inner self was behaving more reasonably.

“Good day, St. David. I’m pleased to catch you in.”

Penwick entered the office, his walking stick tapping against the floor. The sound knocked on Jasper’s brain as if to call focus to the business at hand.

“You’ve returned to London, then?” Jasper stood to accept the earl’s handshake and offer a chair.

“I’ve postponed the trip for the time being.” Penwick propped his stick near the corner and took a seat. “An interesting matter has arisen, but that’s not why I’ve come to call. I was at White’s last evening and had the distinguished pleasure of meeting your brother.”

The words were a damper to Jasper’s congeniality, similar to someone opening his mouth and dropping an anvil down his throat. “I see.” It was all he could muster as he digested the news.

“Determined fellow, your brother. Well-meaning though.”

These statements didn’t sit right either and Jasper’s unease grew. Were Penwick to suddenly cancel all contracts, dissuaded by Dash to withdraw his investments, it would be a terrible blow, not just to the company, but to his strengthening confidence. “As brothers go, you have him pegged correctly.” He murmured the reply, hoping Penwick wouldn’t inspect the words too closely. Dash would describe Jasper as a gentleman of three outs; without money, without wit, and without manners, although the opposite remained true.

“And by devil, he’s proud.”

Penwick stated the words in a matter-of-fact manner although Jasper swallowed audibly in anticipation of what the earl might say next. Without a doubt, Dash must have plumed his ruffled feathers and rang a death knell over what he perceived as his younger brother’s misguided ambition to operate business. Shouldn’t Dash support his newfound purpose? Congratulate him on initiative and sound fiscal knowledge? Jasper had long abandoned the foolish wagering and gaming hells still frequented by the rich and entitled, opting to carve his own path and exercise responsibility. Wasn’t there valor and pride in that? At times it seemed as if Dash preferred Jasper return to a less than respectful livelihood for no other reason than to perpetuate his own shining example of righteousness. It seemed terribly unfair. Pity that.

“You are correct. My brother is a proud man.” Jasper released the words through clenched teeth and flicked his eyes to the window beyond Penwick’s shoulder. Miss Shaw had arrived and her contingency of women leaguers had expanded, at least fifteen women crowded the walkway in varying shades of brown, grey and blue, although Miss Shaw stood out easily, her jaunty emerald green bonnet bobbing above the small grouping. Was that a peacock feather? He wondered if it made her eyes appear bluer, if that was at all possible.

How he’d like to remove her little topper and slide the pins from her hair, the chestnut tresses tumbling around her shoulders in enticing disarray.

The crowd shifted and Jasper noted Randolph’s approach. His friend tipped his beaver cap to the ladies and strode into the office, unaffected by the amassed feminine display, prettier than a bouquet in springtime.

Would Miss Shaw glance through the window? He’d feel personal gratification if she offered a little show of interest. Perhaps she’d bequest him with a smile. Her smile took his breath away.

“Penwick, how does it go?” Randolph flipped his hat to the top hook of the rack and closed the door with his foot, the sound drawing all attention.

“Randolph,” Jasper admonished, and both men swiveled in his direction as if he’d said something wrong.

“Yes?” they answered in unison.

Randolph and Penwick eyed each other with incredulous expressions.

“Your given name is Randolph?” Randolph,
Beaufort, that is
, smiled like a jolly nob. “Fancy the coincidence.”

Jasper remained unimpressed. “There are likely hundreds, perhaps thousands of men named Randolph here in London.” His eyes returned to the window, distressed that he’d been distracted by Beaufort’s prattle, and now the ladies were gone. He could hear the scrape of chairs on the floor abovestairs and wished, not for the first time, he could join the little meeting and find out what the league explored beyond bank accounts and liquor cabinets.

“My father’s name and his father before. I make use of R. James occasionally, but Penwick suits otherwise.”

“That’s quite a few Randolphs.” Beaufort’s grin expanded.

Jasper thanked the devil he was business partners with only the one.

“Ladies.” Emily rapped the desktop with her knuckles in substitution of the wooden gavel she meant to bring from home and continually forgot. The room quieted much to her pleasure. “I’d like to welcome three new members who have joined our league this morning.” She swept an arc with her eyes, pausing as she made contact around the horseshoe-shaped gathering of chairs. “I hope everyone, most especially our newcomers, will find our discussions enlightening and empowering.”

A twitter of pleasant salutations and brief introductions filled the room and Emily paused until everyone quieted. “Before we hear a presentation from Portia Edmonstone discussing the advantages of traveling unencumbered, I’d like to restate our purpose as members of the League of Virtuous Equality.” She squared her shoulders and called forth her renewed determination. No more would she be distracted by long lashes and emerald green eyes. “We gather together here to reaffirm that men and women are equal. Convention insists women be kept in a cage of social restriction, our choices beyond marriage and childbirth limited to the gentler arts. I, for one, am not fond of watercolors or embroidery. Perhaps I choose to travel the world, operate a business, or pen a work of fiction.” She paused and the anticipated applause followed. “These options should not be limited to the rare permission granted by a husband or governing male. We work here to strengthen the privileges offered women, to enlighten society and its skewed point of view and to further enable women to accomplish the ideal life, whether it result in marriage, career or financial security.” Again, a rush of applause and encouragement circulated. “Now that I have made clear our purpose, I’d be happy to answer any questions or hear suggestions from our membership.”

Several hands shot up and Emily was at once taken aback, not expecting the robust response. She thought to begin with a familiar face.

“Yes, Cynthia, what is your question?”

“You’re not suggesting we live as bluestockings? Independents who have no use for romance or relationships, substituting life’s more passionate delights with education, are you?”

Emily tsked a soft sound of impatience, Cynthia’s question more likely to incite the crowd than offer insight. And worse yet, her friend knew well the answer. “Cynthia, as you are already aware, the league encourages happiness and satisfaction above all else. No one is suggesting any member forego marriage or motherhood. Instead, our purpose is for ladies to have a choice to pursue their heart’s desire without censure or worse, fear of becoming ostracized. The core of this mission, the gathering of likeminded intelligent females, is to allow women to choose their own path without inherent restriction imposed by social dictate.”

Applause broke out in kind to Emily’s smile. This was why she’d formed the league. Not just to enhance prospects for women, but to feel wanted, needed…to replace the grim reality ever present in other areas of her life.

The heady feeling continued throughout the remaining inquiries and Portia’s outstanding presentation on necessary travel considerations. Emily watched with satisfaction as members made future plans to meet and discuss the opportunities suggested. Only Thomasina lingered when all other members had left to continue their day.

“The meeting was a great success today. I’m invigorated and encouraged by the new members too. Would you like to walk to Piccadilly and share a late lunch?” Thomasina gathered her cape and started toward the door.

“Actually I’m going to stay on for a bit. I have a few papers to review and I may as well take advantage of the time before returning home. Thank you, though.” She hoped her friend wouldn’t hear the wistful note in her voice. For surely she wasn’t lingering for any other reason.

“Are you certain you wouldn’t care for some company? We can visit that charming millinery you favor. I noticed several new bonnets in the window yesterday.”

Emily smiled at her friend’s persistence. Thomasina was as intuitive as she was sharp thinking. “Honestly, I promise.”

“All right then. But have a care with the time. The weather looks ominous and I doubt much time will pass without the clouds opening to prove me correct.” And with these parting words, Thomasina left.

Emily walked to the front window to watch her friend’s retreat. Belowstairs might already be closed for the day, but with that same thought came the proof she was wrong as she spied a well-dressed gentleman with top hat and walking stick exit, as if called forth by her notice. He too continued down the thoroughfare. She shot her eyes upward, a twist of her lips confirming Thomasina’s prediction of poor weather. The sky showed signs of an impending storm.