Pride and Pleasure

by Sylvia Day

  “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.” West-field 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 th
e 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.”

  “Let us hope you see the end of Miss Martin’s troubles.” Jasper pulled out his pocket watch and checked the time. He cursed.

  “Running behind again, are you?” There was laughter in the earl’s voice. “Tardiness is becoming a habit with you. Here I thought you would corrupt Miss Martin’s finer points, but perhaps the opposite is true.”

  Jasper might have been chagrined if not for the fact that the swifter time passed, the sooner Eliza would be his wife. “Step lively, Westfield.”

  But haste didn’t help him achieve his aim. Although they arrived at Miss Chilcott’s shop within posted business hours, the proprietress was not in evidence.

  “Shoddy way to run a new business,” Westfield muttered, tilting his head back to eye the pink-striped awning.

  “Only if you mean to make a success of it. By your accounts, the Chilcotts aren’t ones to work for their keep.”

  Jasper waited for Peter Crouch to return from checking the rear exterior staircase leading to the domicile on the second floor. When the young man appeared, he was shaking his head.

  “Damn and blast,” Jasper muttered. “I cannot wait for Miss Chilcott to return. I’m to meet Montague at Remington’s in an hour to discuss his idiotic mining speculation.”

  Westfield looked at him. “Despite an imminent wedding and the nefarious Miss Chilcott, you still won’t allow Montague to meet his own fate? You know as well as I he’s destined to destroy himself.”

  “He and his family owe me far better than that. I want his destruction to come by my hand, and I will not rest until I’ve seen the deed through to the last.”

  The earl sighed and turned away from the building. “I’ll accompany you to Remington’s, then part ways with you for the evening. With the announcement of Miss Martin’s engagement to you, you won’t be needing me to gain entry to anyplace you choose to go. I, however, am in dire need of a strong drink and a soft woman. Or two.”

  “Easy on the drink,” Jasper said, walking back to his horse.

  “And ride hard on the woman? Excellent idea.”

  Neither man could see the eavesdropper in the room above them. She sat on the floor beneath the barely raised sash and listened to the masculine voices drifting up to her. A smile curved her lovely lips. With a rapacious gleam in her blue eyes, she began to plan…

  It was difficult for Eliza to refrain from fidgeting when she knew she was to be married the next day. However, the Cranmores’ ballroom was not the place to appear anxious.

  A few years had passed since she’d last been invited to a Cranmore event. Lady Cranmore was a consummate hostess whose entertainment innovations were often copied, and her expertise was widely evident tonight. Tulle and ivy wrapped Ionic columns. Harp players filled every corner with music when the orchestra was quiet. Outside, the rear lawn was dotted with dramatically blazing torches. The result was one of Grecian decadence, and everyone in attendance appeared to be in high spirits.

  Eliza, however, was feeling high-strung. She was filled with a mixture of exhilaration and apprehension such as she’d never known. Tomorrow, she would be wed. After so many years of making certain she did nothing as her mother would have, she was no longer allowing Georgina to rule her actions from the grave. Which made every aspect of the coming day momentous.

  “I am so pleased,” Lady Collingsworth said, looking at Eliza with bright eyes. “I must confess, when you told me you would be married tomorrow, I doubted I could do justice to the occasion with such short notice.”

  Personally, Eliza thought nothing more than family and close friends were necessary, but she guessed that saying so would only disappoint and hurt Regina. “Thank you,” she said instead. “You’re too kind to me.”

  “Stuff.” Regina waved one gloved hand carelessly. “I had given up on your ever marrying. I’m so very happy you found someone precious to you after all.”

  “Precious,” Eliza repeated, her head turning to find Jasper. He stood on the edge of the ballroom speaking with Montague. She’d previously taken note of Westfield’s absence.

  “You are full of surprises lately,” Regina murmured. “To think…Secret proposals from two of the most eligible bachelors of the ton. Absolutely delicious. Does Mr. Bond know who his competition was?”

  “Yes.”

  “Lord Montague is being laudably gracious. Look at him speaking so civilly with your betrothed. And what a pair they make. From this distance, one could almost imagine them as brothers.”

  “My understanding is that the similarities between the two exist only on the exterior.”

  Regina leaned closer. “Your tone is intriguing.”

  Eliza lowered her voice to a whisper. “Have you ever heard anything of a worrisome nature about Lord Montague?”

  “Such as?”

  “Never mind. There are some things it’s best not to know
.”

  “You cannot initiate such a topic, only to abandon it!”

  When it became apparent Eliza would say no more, Regina snapped open her fan with a flourish. “Hmph…With your engagement, I’d hoped that poor Rothschild girl would finally capture Montague’s attention, but you have me wondering if he’s not such a prize after all.”

  “Jane Rothschild?” Eliza frowned.

  “Over there.” Regina gestured to where Miss Rothschild was hovering behind a column near Montague and Jasper. “See how she stares at him, looking so forlorn? I’ve noticed her lingering in his general vicinity, as if she hopes he’ll notice her. Her behavior is sadly untoward, but exception must be made for her common origins.”

  Jane was a pretty girl with soft brown hair and eyes, and a rather curvaceous figure. An air of melancholy clung to her. Perhaps it was the way her mouth turned down at the corners, or how she shifted so restlessly, as if the disquiet inside her was so great it manifested itself physically.

  “Montague told me he attempted to court Miss Rothschild,” Eliza said, “but she was unreceptive.”

  “I cannot believe that,” Regina scoffed. “Her parents would pay a fortune for an earldom, and her actions speak for her.”

  Eliza could argue with neither point. Curious, she excused herself and moved toward the other woman. Why would Montague say Miss Rothschild was averse to his suit, when it appeared she was in fact openly seeking his regard? It was a puzzle, especially considering how dire Montague’s financial situation was reported to be and how wealthy the Rothschilds were.

  As she drew closer, Montague parted from Jasper and moved toward the open doors leading to the moonlit garden. Jane prepared to follow the earl outside, but Eliza spoke out.

  “Miss Rothschild. How are you this evening?”

  Jane cast an almost frantic glance at Montague’s back, then faced Eliza with a weak smile. “I’m well, Miss Martin. Thank you for inquiring. Congratulations on your betrothal.”

  With proximity, Eliza noted Jane’s wan complexion and the dark circles under her eyes. “Thank you. Would you care for something to drink? A lemonade, perhaps?”

  “No.” Jane looked out the door again. “I’m not thirsty.”