by Dawn Brower
“Your view on such things is skewed,” he said softly. “It wouldn’t have been that way between us. I am not those men you are so afraid of; I do not live such a life. You are not those women. You couldn’t be prim or proper for all the Crown jewels. Together, we would have forged our own direction, turned society on its ear in our own way.”
Tingles played at the base of her spine and spread through her lower belly. Romantic words to be sure, but they came too late. There was nothing between them any longer. At least that’s what she had to remind herself because the alternative was too… glimmering with possibility… too terrifying. “At the time, the risk outweighed the reward.” God, that makes me sound like a horrible person. It was her turn to pace, which she did between the bedroom door and the sofa she’d recently vacated. “None of it matters now.” If that were true, why did she still yearn to know heated passion with a man as proof that love didn’t need to be staid in order to be a good match, and why did she wish that man would be him? “The people we once were, the things we once did, have no bearing on the present.”
“On this we are of an accord.” Except, his eyes narrowed and he stroked his chin, that telling gesture the same one he’d always had when he tried to puzzle something out. When he said nothing more, Evangeline’s chest squeezed. Had she wounded him so horribly that he couldn’t—or wouldn’t—forgive her? “What did you do with your life after you ran from your second unfortunate beau?”
She ignored the warmth infusing her cheeks. “I needed to escape London and everything it meant, so I went down to Brighton.”
“Why Brighton? It’s not exactly in style these days. Most folks travel the world when they want a change of scenery. Why did you not hie to Egypt or Italy or somewhere you’ve heard of in your grandmother’s stories?”
That pulled a tiny smile from her, but then, Jasper always had that knack. “Brighton is where Grandmother and my aunt reside, for Grandmother adores the sea and Aunt Adelaide looks after her.”
“So you resorted to passing the time with two old ladies.” Softly, he tsked his tongue. “That will hardly make a woman feel young.”
Despite herself, Evangeline snorted with laughter. “Indeed.” She didn’t realize how much she’d missed him making her laugh until now. Could they have worked everything out? It was too late to pursue such a thing. Pausing near the sofa, she rested a hand on the back of it. “My aunt had been in business for herself for years selling undergarments and corsets to her friends and their female family members. I became her apprentice. I’ve done it for three years.”
“You peddle corsets?” The next flash of lightning, closer now, saw his dark eyebrows rocketing into his hairline. “I cannot wait to hear what the unflappable Lady Jane said about that. Does she approve?”
“To a point.” Evangeline returned to her spot on the sofa and once more drew her legs beneath her. “She realizes women in today’s world want to make their own way and earn their own money. And she thinks it’s highly entertaining. However, such an activity is seen as scandalous in some circles, mainly those my mother travels in.” She huffed a sigh that stirred tendrils of escaped hair on her forehead. “It’s not as if my aunt and I are as gauche as to have a shop. We do private fittings in homes at the discretion of our clients.”
“I don’t know that it makes a difference, Evie. Corsets and undergarments will always be seen as scandalous to those with no imaginations.” When she gasped at his use of the nickname he’d given her long ago, he cleared his throat. “Er, I mean, is hawking underpinning interesting work?”
“To a certain extent, but thankless no matter how I help women with their varying figures.” He didn’t need to know all the mean and hateful things some of her clients said about each other instead of focusing how amazing each of them looked in the satin corsets or lace-trimmed combinations. “And no one wants to pay the prices such private fittings entail. Time and again I hear that ready-made clothing is more affordable even if it is lesser quality.”
“That isn’t a falsehood.”
“No, it’s not, but all of those ready-made product in stores aren’t tailor-made for each individual client.” Again, she fell to pleating the fabric of her nightdress. “Exact fit doesn’t come cheap, and neither should it. A corset is personal and should fit a woman’s figure like a second skin. It should move with her, enhance her body, not rub and chafe because measurements are off by an inch here or there for the sake of convenience.” It was one of the reasons she’d consented to help her aunt with sales. She enjoyed the sensual nature of undergarments and how pretty things that fit well could give a woman confidence. Once someone had that, there was no limit to where said woman could go or what she would do.
“I’ll wager your sales are struggling against the surge of manufactured goods. Factories are cropping up everywhere these days.”
It wouldn’t do to lie to him at his point. She wanted a clean confession of everything her life currently held. Only then could she start over again with a clear conscience. “Yes. It’s a miserable thing at times. It makes me want to run screaming from the room and quit the business altogether. But what is the alternative? If I return home on the heels of this failure, Mother will be all the more unlikely to let me leave unless I’m wed.”
Silence brewed between them as Jasper stared at her but didn’t quite see her. More like he looked through her. Gooseflesh popped on her skin. What did he see, and was she lacking? The longer he contemplated, stroking his chin, the more uncomfortable she grew. Couple that with the low growl and rumble of faraway thunder and her nerves became more frayed.
Finally, he nodded and leaned forward, resting his forearms on his splayed knees. “Underpinnings are much like chocolates; each piece is unique. Everyone won’t agree on a flavor or style, fabric or fit. You need a gimmick, a pitch of the best corset or the best undergarments you have. Something flashy and personal that will catch the eye and grab your clients’ desires.”
She rolled her eyes. “I am rather rubbish at sales. I know that, and a gimmick smacks as a con. I refuse to partake in something like that. If it means the business suffers, so be it. Besides, I don’t see how a gimmick will help sell corsets anyway.”
“Perhaps.” He stared at her, his stormy eyes assessing and intense in each flash of lightning. “Is this your dream?”
“Selling undergarments?” Her grin was wry. “No, but independence is.” The smile faltered under his unwavering regard. “I refuse to depend on a man or family money to see me through life. I want to know that I can stand on my own power. I want the assurance that I can be more than someone’s wife, someone’s hostess or someone’s mother.”
“I understand. Perhaps all too well.” He leaned back, the power of his gaze directed elsewhere. “You and I aren’t as different as you wish to believe.”
But she had to keep believing that; otherwise, running from him all those years ago was for naught. If they weren’t all that different, if the only thing separating them was the lack of passion on his part and if he was willing to work on that, what was keeping them apart other than her fear of what the future held? “I want more than society can—or will—give me, as a woman, as a person. I don’t want what’s expected, or what is traditional.” Even now, in the talking of it, her palms grew moist as panic rose in her chest. Clinging to the same old excuse sounded thin even to her own ears.
A grin curved his sensuous lips. That gesture transformed his face and set amusement dancing in his eyes. Again, she fantasized about what those lips would feel like if he nibbled a path down the side of her throat to her breasts and… “Somehow, I doubt your family is traditional. You’ve told me enough stories that I know it’s not true.”
His words yanked her back to the present. “My mother is extremely traditional, which is amusing since her sister is the opposite.” She answered his grin with one of her own. It was so easy with Jasper, this sharing of confidences. “Mother married well and is scandalized by Grandmother’s life and st
ories.”
“And that makes you all the more determined to break away, to be like Lady Jane.”
“Yes.” Her grandmother had traveled all over the world even before she was married. Why couldn’t she enjoy the same freedom?
“You know,” he lowered his voice once more, and the thrilling whisper ran over her like the slightest caress. “The right marriage would still afford you the freedom you crave.”
Her jaw dropped. “It’s neither here nor there.” God, what a lie that was.
“If you don’t wish to be traditional, what do you want to be?” His question took her by surprise.
Endless moments passed, marked by the ticking of a grandfather clock she’d spied on the lower level as she’d come upstairs. “I want to be happy. That’s all.” After the last five years, she simply coveted happiness that had been absent while she dealt with the struggle. So far, it had been elusive, and she couldn’t help but wonder if it was due to leaving the man in front of her. Every moment she’d spent with Jasper, she’d been acutely aware of being… happy. Yet the second he’d brought out that damned ring with its implications, it had changed into panic. With anxiety clawing through her chest, she scuttled up from her position on the sofa. Her heart pounded, her pulse rushed through her veins. Now was not the time to see her flaw in logic. Marriage to him had every possibility of being different, and now that chance was gone.
It was my fault. No matter what she thought in hindsight, their time together had reached its natural expiration date. “Thank you for listening. I’d needed to tell you certain things for a while. Goodnight.”
Before he could utter a response, she fled the tiny parlor and didn’t stop until the door to his bedroom was safely closed behind her.
Chapter 5
The next morning, Jasper worked in the tiny back room where he crafted his chocolates and sweets while his assistant tended to any customers who might drift in at such an unfashionably early hour.
In his experience, the need for chocolate and confections had no set time. Customers wanted them whenever the mood struck.
Before he’d come down to the store, he’d tiptoed into the bedroom to grab garments for the day. Evangeline slept on, tucked into his bed with the bedclothes drawn tight about her, the strawberry-blonde braid of her hair slung like a snake over one shoulder. Though she’d surprised him with her midnight talk and confessions, he’d gained a few important insights that allowed him to understand her better.
She was not attached, and from her wistful expression when talking about it, she wished to be despite her misgivings. She wanted passion from a beau and future lover. That had sent blood pumping into his groin. He’d had no idea she was a lady who harbored such secret yearnings. It was one of the reasons he’d gone slow with her and had played the gentleman—he hadn’t wanted to scare her away by showing his desire for her.
That thought had him snorting with derision. Not that it had mattered. She’d run out of fear anyway.
And lastly, she hadn’t had much luck in her choice of occupation that was supposed to bring independence. The fact she peddled corsets and undergarments intrigued as well as aroused him. All this time that he assumed he’d known all there was to Evangeline Bradenwilde, and he’d barely scratched the surface. She wished for passionate embraces and worked a scandalous trade. What sort of woman was she truly? He didn’t know, but he would find out in short order.
All of her problems could be solved, and quickly. A grin stretched across his face. And he’d be the man to do it. Why? Because her happiness was tied into his, and if there was a chance he could still be what she wanted—what she needed—he had to try. He glanced out the windows that overlooked the alley behind his building. Gloomy skies and persistent rain met his gaze—the perfect weather for beginning a seduction of the woman he’d never quite gotten over.
Please God, let her be receptive.
As Jasper contemplated the delicate bonbon shells of thin chocolate he’d turned out of their rounded metal molds, he dug into a pocket of his vest and withdrew a delicate ring. The very ring he would have given to Evangeline on that fateful day he’d meant to propose—the ring that, when she caught sight of it, sent her pelting out of the garden and out of his life.
Now that he understood why, he wouldn’t make the same mistakes, and he’d be damned certain he’d make it clear that marriage didn’t mean the shackles she thought.
Carrying the ring over to the window, he held it between his thumb and forefinger while giving it a once-over with a critical eye. It was part of the jewels that went with his father’s viscounty, but it would suit Evangeline well. The diamond solitaire, at least a half carat weight, lay surrounded by eight, round amethysts, all set in delicate silver filigree. It resembled a flower found when the weather was fair in the country at his father’s estate. The deep purple flowers had grown in abundance in the meadows during the late spring and summer months.
Damnation. He should have kissed her with abandon in those meadows, kissed her until she couldn’t remember her name, should have laid her down among the fragrant blooms and made love to her when he’d had the chance.
Why did I never show her how I felt? His mind reeled. Because that sort of thing simply wasn’t done and such displays were frowned upon in their society. Because he’d been afraid of how much he would need to change upon marriage and perhaps become the very man she abhorred. Because in showing his desire, he would spook her, or so he’d thought at the time. Because he was the world’s biggest idiot not to go after what he’d wanted most out of life—Evangeline. She always been his ideal, the woman he’d wanted above all others.
And he’d lost her for a myriad of reasons that had no bearing on the present or their future, for they would have one—together—this time around.
Again, he dropped his gaze to the ring. Even in the gloom, the jewels winked. Would she welcome a renewed courtship from him? By her own admission, she was skittish regarding the concept of marriage. Also from her own admission, she wanted heat in a relationship, and she wanted to be happy. All things he could provide for her, if he tried a different tack this time. What if, instead of the perfunctory and polite strolls or mindless conversations about nothing, he plied her with kisses and caress, used his words to thrill and seduce? If he put aside everything he wasn’t to impress the woman she wasn’t pretending to be anymore, would he have different results?
I am willing to risk it, for in this instant that risk outweighs the reward. He would show her exactly that. They were a good fit for each other. It was a matter of convincing her and moving her past the panic. Logic wouldn’t fly, so he would present his case on the emotional.
Yes. It just might triumph. He enfolded the ring into his hand and returned to his work area. And if things went well, he would propose again, but not in the traditional way. As he looked over the empty bonbon shells, his grin grew. He’d pop the ring into one of those shells and fill the interior with violet syrup, topping the whole thing with a sugared violet flower.
That would play to her romantic side, for he was sure she had one, if missing passion was part of her complaint. Couple that with a willingness to help her sell more underpinnings, and this revisitation of a courtship would have a much more pleasant outcome.
Consign her to the past? Foolish notion, that. She’d always been with him. Now he could correct what had gone wrong before.
“Theodore?” he called to his assistant and strode to the doorway.
“Yes, Mr. Winslow?” The eager young man with a shock of red hair severally parted in the middle of his head, faced him, wiping his hands on his Parisian-style black apron.
“See if you cannot locate the bottle of violet syrup we made a few weeks ago. I’m going to fashion a special, limited run of bonbons today. Perhaps, if successful, we’ll expand into a whole flower collection—rose, orange blossom, lavender, honeysuckle, clover honey and so on. It is, after all, still spring, and once this dratted rainstorm blows itself out, customers wi
ll visit in force.”
“Intriguing idea.” The other man nodded. “It would be wildly lauded. Floral anything is a big draw at the moment.”
“We can only hope the trend will have staying power.” He returned the ring to his pocket. Seducing his lady fair would begin at the first available moment.
It wasn’t until later that afternoon when Evangeline made an appearance in the emporium.
Jasper caught sight of her and his breath stalled. Though she wore the same shirtwaist and skirt she had on the previous night, in the day time and despite the gloom, she retained an air of expectation. A certain light played about her face that sent a twinkle into her blue-green eyes. Her golden hair glimmered with red highlights, and the braids she’d wrapped around the back of her head resembled the finest, silken ropes.
When she smiled at Theodore and accepted the young man’s offer of tea, Jasper nearly expired on the spot. He sucked in a lungful or two of oxygen while she made her way to the one available table in the far corner of the emporium.
Had she always been so beautiful? But his fascination of her went beyond her physical appearance. He continued to observe her while Theodore fussed over her table, laying out the standard sweets and individual trays of tea cakes and scones. She thanked him then engaged him in light conversation, and when he went away to fetch her tea, his cheeks blazed as scarlet as his hair. She didn’t have to talk with his assistant, but she did. Where most patrons ignored the help, she singled him out for a chat.
Jasper grinned. Not suited for ton life indeed. She was as gracious as any duchess he could think of. He wiped his fingers on his Parisian-style apron and glanced about the emporium. The convivial hum of genteel conversation filled the cozy shop. With all six tables now occupied, one could almost forget the dreary weather outside. Perhaps that was what brought the patrons on this afternoon. Chocolate made a person happy.