by Dawn Brower
Evangeline stabbed the long pin into the crown of her straw hat. “I think perhaps that would be the most logical choice.” She cast a glance about the immediate area the second he flipped a switch and soft electric illumination flooded the cozy shop, glinting off the glass display cases and the glass canisters that lined the shelves behind the high wooden counter. What did the emporium look like to her eyes?
Inside the cases, a vast collection of sweetmeats rested, ready for eager patrons. Comfits, which were sugar-and-spice-coated nuts; confits—candied fruit. He had a display of sugarplums—sugar heated and hardened into rounds or different molded shapes like roses or fruits or a few animals, and the ever-popular bonbons, caramels, French creams or marzipan. Pride tugged at him. He and his assistant had created all of this with their own hands… and the help of punch machines for the hard candies as well as copper kettle drums that allowed chocolate and sugar to melt without constant stirring.
The last five years of his life hadn’t been wasted. In fact, he really should thank Evangeline for the curtesy of refusing him. Had he gone on to marry her as he’d planned, would he have had the courage to open the shop or even learn a trade? Interesting concept, that. In marriage, what would he have done with his life, and would he have stumbled upon his ambition?
“I have always wondered what the inside of this place looked like.” The dulcet tones of her voice recalled his attention to her, and he started, almost forgetting she stood within the culmination of his life’s work.
“Why have you never come in?” That would have been a trick. Imagine looking up from his creating and spying her coming through the door.
“I’m not certain.” She moved along the counter, intently studying the sweets behind the glass and in the jars. “Perhaps I was not properly motivated. More to the point, I never had the time to linger in any of the shops while in London. I am always bound by appointments or catching trains.”
What had called her away? A wry smile twisted his lips. “If you had, I suppose this impending conversation would have occurred that much sooner. We might not even be here in this moment.” If they’d both met each other before and conducted a proper goodbye, would she be married to someone else? A stab of jealousy gripped him for a fictional man he’d not met doing a deed that had not occurred. He shot a speculative glance her way, but nothing in her bearing revealed her marital status.
Buggar that. It matters not. He’d do well to remember.
“True.” To a casual observer one would never know he and she shared a history. Is this what they’d become now, strangers struggling to find a topic of mutual interest? “How did you embark on such an occupation?”
Jasper removed his gloves and then tossed them onto a marble-inlaid table. “Because of you, actually.” He shrugged out of his overcoat and draped it over the back of a dainty, wrought iron chair.
“Me?” Shock exploded around the one-word inquiry. “What had I to do with it?” She whipped off her gloves.
“Well, when a man is as soundly humiliated as I was, he must find something completely different and far removed from his previous life as he can.” Jasper didn’t care that the words might be too harsh. He was never given a chance to ask why she’d left, let alone offered the opportunity to fix what might have gone wrong between them.
“I thought you would have landed on your feet, much like a cat, and you could have depended upon your family. You were always resourceful.” Her shoulders drooped a bit, but she didn’t face him. “It was for the best. You would have come to see that sooner or later.” The last was said in a whisper so he had to drift closer in order to hear. “We wouldn’t have been happy with marriage.”
A muscle at the corner of his left eye began to twitch—a sure sign his ire was up. “We will never know.” Why did she not understand that marriage between two people was a work in progress, where each party stood by the other in times of both trial and triumph? “You had no right to decide that for me.” Feeling confident he had the upper hand, he moved behind the display cases. At the back counter, he filled a copper tea kettle with water from the nearby faucet then set it on the adjacent small stove. When the flame kissed the kettle’s bottom, he finally turned and found Evangeline as she inspected a case of bonbons as if her life depended upon it.
“I did not, yet I had every right to decide what was best for me.” She straightened and caught his gaze. “You had no right to set my future for me.” With efficient movements, she tossed her gloves onto a table and then she worked the buttons down the front of her long, green jacket. Once the final one popped free of its hole, she shrugged out of the drenched garment.
His eyebrows sailed into his hairline. “As if marriage to me was akin to being chained by the ankle to an ogre under his bridge.”
“Don’t be droll, Jasper. It’s not becoming.” Evangeline held up the limp velvet. “Is there a hook or coat rack or shall I tote this around like a parcel?”
Embarrassment burned up the back of his neck. “Yes. Just there.” He gestured toward the corner nearest the door even as he roved his gaze up and down her person. The ivory blouse trimmed with lace was sheer enough that he glimpsed an equally lace-edged camisole beneath. The green velvet skirt with its smart brown, wide, leather belt emphasized her slender waist and the flair of her rounded hips. Time had indeed been kind to her, or rather had further enhanced the beauty she’d always had. With effort, he wrenched his attention away and checked the near-boiling water in the kettle. “Pardon me for not being as solicitous as I should.” What an idiot he was to not invite her to remove her wet clothes.
“As I said before, it has been a trying night—apparently for both of us.” After she’d hung up the garment, she drifted toward one of the tiny, round tables that seated two and then alighted upon a wrought iron chair. The volume of her skirting swallowed up the dainty piece. In the process of arranging said skirting, he caught sight of a trim ankle encased in a serviceable pair of brown leather half-boots. At the last second, he stifled a groan. Had they been able to work out the issues separating them years ago, he could have intimately known that siren’s body.
Dear God in heaven, help me not make a fool of myself.
“Indeed.” He cleared his throat and was thankful to spend the next few minutes attending to preparing the tea. The turn of her ankle or the voluptuousness of her figure didn’t tempt him in the least. What he needed to do was pick a fight, one he’d been craving ever since he’d seen her alone on that platform. He wanted her to hurt the way she had hurt him five years ago, the way he still ached now whenever he thought of what could have been. “In any event, shortly after you showed me how much I was worth in your eyes, I experienced a crisis of identity.”
Silence reigned through the emporium as he loaded a tea tray with all the accoutrements of that repast. Giving into the wild streak of deviltry residing deep down inside, he added a small plate to the tray and placed a collection of four bonbons on it. It was what he fondly called the “broken heart” assortment. Actually, it was quite a decent seller among both males and females, which was why he’d not retired it after he’d laid Evangeline’s defection to rest.
Once he’d carried the tray to the table and set it down, he took the seat across from her, and in the small space between them, their knees knocked. A jolt akin to electricity zipped from the point of contact up through his groin. Briefly, he closed his eyes. He’d missed that feeling, that shot of excitement being around her caused. Jasper quickly rearranged his chair so accidental touching couldn’t reoccur. “Please, help yourself. You’ve made no secret how independent and capable you are. I’m sure something as trivial as tea shouldn’t be an issue.”
Her eyes narrowed and he tamped down the urge to crow with victory. “Thank you for the reminder.” The words were clipped and as cold as the rain and the wind howling outside. While she poured out a cup, not bothering with sugar or milk, he leaned back in his chair. “So you decided to bury your angst in confections then?”
“Right.
” There was a story yet to tell. “I was conflicted in my mind, and since there was no danger of me needing to attend to the title—my brother is quite hale and hearty you see—my parents urged me to go out into the world and find my way. To make something of myself.”
“How lovely to have such freedom.” Her hand shook as she raised her cup to her lips.
“It is, rather.” Jasper prepared his own cup, adding milk and one cube of sugar. “I traveled through Europe for many months. Many of the grand places inspired me. All of the people I met added to the yearning of my soul.” He took a sip of his tea and savored the warmth as he swallowed. “In France, I discovered what it was I wanted above all else.”
“And that was?” One of her eyebrows arched as if she found his recounting trite and insipid.
“Chocolate making.” A grin tugged at his lips as he remembered the year he’d spent in Paris. At first, he’d visited every confectionary and patisserie he could find in the city, coming back again and again to his favorites. And then he took rooms in order to study his passion, but it wasn’t until a chocolatier caught him more or less deconstructing an assortment of confections that his destiny arrived. “I was invited to work under a famous chocolatier in Paris, which I gladly did, for little pay and long hours, just to be closer to the chocolates I’d fallen in love with.”
“How nice that you found fulfillment.” Bitter annoyance rang through her words, but her expression remained impassive.
He frowned. What had her life become that brought her to such aggravation? “I thought so. All those months, I lived and breathed the art. I ate more chocolate than real food. I learned so much that finally the chocolatier turned me out with his blessing, and hoped I didn’t practice my new vocation in Paris else I’d run him out of business.” His chuckle echoed in the empty shop. “Once I returned home to England, I was filled with a new purpose, a new life. I go back to Paris in the spring every year to keep current on my craft and to visit my friend Jacques, the man who taught me everything.” He spread wide his arms, regardless of the teacup still in his hand. “Now, here we are.”
“You have done well for yourself.” She took another sip of tea and then set the cup down on its saucer as she contemplated the sweets and small cakes on the tray.
“I have.” He swallowed down the remainder of his tea. “Please, try the bonbons. They’re a particular favorite with my customers.” Watching her, he set his cup into its saucer. What would she think of the flavors he’d put together? His stomach muscles clenched. Why did he care to hear her opinion?
“What do you call them?” She peered at the four rounded confections, each one filled with a different sweet surprise.
“They’re my broken heart collection and are quite the balm for customers who come in besieged with maudlin thoughts of romantic woes. You see, chocolate and sweets pair nicely with coffee or tea, as well as a listening ear.” He grinned when she sucked in a quick breath. “As I mentioned, inspired by you, Miss Bradenwilde. This collection was one of my first attempts for sale. I have yet to retire it.”
She selected one, brought it to her mouth and bit into it, and then was obliged to catch the dribble of blueberry syrup off her chin with a finger. Would she taste the sweet fruit as it contrasted with the slight bitterness of the chocolate, perceive the faint floral of the syrup amidst the sugar? “This is lovely. What do you call it?”
“Uh…” Fascinated when she licked the syrup from her finger, he cleared his throat. “Its name is Disappointment. It’s a nice, smooth milk chocolate with blueberry syrup.”
“I see.” Evangeline snorted. She laid the uneaten portion of the bonbon on her plate. The dark indigo liquid oozed out onto the porcelain plate. “Blue for sadness.”
“Yes. Broken hearts do that to a man, you know.”
Her lips parted and her eyes widened. “I broke your heart?”
Drat. Flew too close to the flame. “Not important.” He pointed to another bonbon. “The next is Rage, filled with a spiced chocolate cream.” He moved on to the next one. “Denial, which is filled with lemon marzipan, and finally Acceptance, and that is filled with vanilla buttercream.”
“Clever. And exasperating.” One of her eyebrows quirked. “You were never that way before.”
That was odd. “How was I before?”
“Calm. Predictable. Almost conducting your life by rote.” She selected the last one and once she’d tried it, a tiny smile curved her mouth—those damn kissable lips that he should have sampled more than he had when he’d courted her. Why had he never made that effort? “This is wonderful.”
“Thank you. I think so too.”
She nibbled on all the bonbons and then chased the sweets down with sips of tea. Once she was finished, a wash of pink stained her cheeks. Never say she felt embarrassment for what she’d done to him? Good, at least it was more than she’d apparently held for him that fateful afternoon. Then, immediately contrite for his uncharitable thoughts, he dropped his gaze to the tea tray. What else was there to say to her now that they’d grown into strangers?
“I am sorry you had a tough go of it after our relationship ended.” Her words, said in a near whisper, carried emotion behind them he couldn’t identify.
“Think nothing of it. Unsavory things happen and one must trudge through. Stiff upper lip and all that.” What a stupid rejoinder that was. Have I forgotten how to converse with this woman? She’s merely someone I knew at one time. That was just the ticket. Jasper cleared his throat. What they’d shared belonged in the past. “I like to think such trials build character and change a man for good.” Perhaps she was correct and they hadn’t been right for each other back then. Now, they’d both matured into completely different people, so why was conversation so forced and deuced strained? “You look well. Obviously, independence and self-sufficiency have done wonders for you.”
“Thank you.” She picked up her teacup and took another few sips. Once she’d returned the vessel to its saucer, she said, “Are you happy, Jasper? Do you enjoy the life you’ve carved out for yourself?” This time, the emotion clouding her eyes was sadness. For him or for what she’d thrown away?
That was a dratted difficult topic, wasn’t it? He glanced at his teacup, the tray, her half-eaten bonbons, anywhere that would delay the necessity of meeting her gaze, but eventually he did so, and held it evenly. “Yes, I am happy. This business is everything I never knew I wanted, and it fulfills a deep-seated need within me to forge my own path. But content?” He shrugged. “That is infinitely harder to obtain, for that covers more aspects of life than making one’s way.”
“Indeed, and so incredibly true.” She dropped her gaze to her lap where she twisted her fingers together. “Have you found love? That would go a long way in meeting contentment.”
Another hard question. He rubbed a hand along his jaw and wished he’d never spied her upon that platform, abandoned, wet and in great need, still as enticing to him as she’d been all those years ago. “No, I have not, but Mother never ceases in her efforts at playing matchmaker.” And that was a nigh impossible task, for how could he ever come to care for another when his heart wasn’t fully free from Evangeline’s hold? No matter how he’d tried over the years, he couldn’t forget her. Perhaps that was the greatest irony. Constantly thinking about a woman he couldn’t have, one who didn’t want him. How did a man shake off the residual feelings for the woman who’d shattered that organ? “Apparently, making one’s own path isn’t enough to satisfy one’s parents.”
“I see.” She selected a vanilla scone and nibbled at one corner but said nothing else.
He couldn’t summon the courage to ask if she’d embarked on a new romance. Would that be the final blow for his abused heart? Instead, he merely observed as she enjoyed the pastry. When a crumb clung to the corner of her full lips, he was gripped by an insane desire to vault over the table, take her into his arms and kiss away that bit of scone. Such foolishness. Perhaps I haven’t consigned her or my feelings as firm
ly to the past as I should have.
She lifted her gaze to his, all trace of maudlin displays gone. “I am glad that your life is something to be proud of.”
Why did her opinion on it infuse him with such hope? He shoved it away. No use going down that road. “Perhaps. Beyond the emporium, I invested in steel, rails and steam technology. Over the course of the years, I’ve a fortune in my own right.” He waved a hand to encompass the shop. It was important to impress upon her that he was a man of some consequence now, in the event that was the reason she’d left him. “I have the freedom to do what I please without depending on my family’s wealth. Perhaps, in the near future, I’ll do a bit of traveling.”
Hurt sprang into her expression. Evangeline dropped the scone onto her plate. “How nice for you. But then, men in our society have always had such luxuries.” Frost had formed once more in her tone. “I should take my leave.” She rose to her feet with an air of expectation.
Jasper stood as well. “It’s late and the rain hasn’t let up.” He glanced toward the plate glass windows at the front of the shop. “Stay here. I’ve an apartment upstairs. You can take my bed.” Gah! Where had that invitation come from?
Her lips formed an “O” of shock, which matched her rounded eyes. “Where will you sleep?”
At least she hadn’t outright refused. “There is a sofa in the small parlor across from my bedroom. I shall rouse early to open the shop anyway,” he rushed on when silence filled the space between them. “It is not an inconvenience, and I would rather see you safe tonight than chancing luck or fate out there.” He cleared his throat. “And I don’t wish for you to prostrate yourself before your family if that is a sacrifice you don’t need to make.”
Evangeline looked at the windows. Even an idiot couldn’t ignore the slash of the wind-driven rain against the glass or fail to hear the howl as it whistled along the street. Finally, she nodded slightly. “Very well, but only for tonight. In the morning, I will go about my business.”