Historical Romance May 2017 Books 1 - 4. Bronwyn Scott

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      ‘Henry, mind your tongue,’ Jasper’s mother warned.

      ‘Don’t get me wrong, I love the girl like she was my own and she has an admirable head for investments, but all this nonsense today does make one wonder.’ He took a hearty drink.

      ‘She’s stubborn, like her mother, God rest her soul.’ Jane’s mother had been Jasper’s mother’s best friend.

      ‘You’re lucky Philip didn’t march you two up the aisle.’ His father poured himself more brandy, stopped by a stern look from his wife from filling up the glass. ‘Maybe I should. Man like you establishing himself in London after being gone so long doesn’t need Philip Rathbone working against you. You need him with you.’

      Being so intimately connected to Mr Rathbone was the last thing Jasper needed. If anyone could ferret out Jasper’s secret it was Philip. Jasper had caught the scrutiny her brother had lodged at him the moment he’d broken from Jane in his bedroom. It was the look he remembered from when they were kids and the man could guess at once exactly where they’d been and what they’d been up to. He had the elder Mr Rathbone’s gift for sizing people up in an instant.

      Jasper fingered the letter again, wondering if her note was to be believed and if Philip was indeed planning to haul Jasper and Jane to the altar. If so, he’d have to find a way to turn Philip down and it wouldn’t be any easier than refusing Jane. He admired him and his father was right, he couldn’t afford to make an enemy of the man. The best he could hope for was Philip turning his attention elsewhere and having no reason to pry into Jasper’s affairs by insisting on a wedding.

      ‘Whatever happens, you can’t let it distract you from establishing your club. The money from the sale of your American goods won’t support you for ever,’ Jasper’s father continued. ‘I’m still amazed what you brought back from Savannah garnered as much as it did.’

      ‘It appears there’s a better market here for old Louis XIV than in America. So much for superior English taste.’ Jasper forced himself to laugh, pretending like always to be light-hearted. It was the only way to hide the lies weighing him down.

      ‘You’ll run through the money if you keep spending it like a drunk earl,’ his father blustered and Jasper pressed his lips tight together to hold back a retort. Like the rest of his family, his father failed to understand why Jasper indulged in a few fine things. Death had brushed up against him in Savannah and he was determined to embrace life in London. Besides, it wasn’t only himself he spent money on, but on the footmen and dealers who needed it more than he did.

      ‘I don’t know what you learned about managing your affairs from your Uncle Patrick. Heaven knows he...’ A warning look from Jasper’s mother made his father abandon whatever line of reasoning he’d embarked on concerning his mother’s favourite brother. ‘Either way, you’re here now, not in America. You must be swift and decisive and stop missing out on opportunities like the Fleet Street building.’

      Jasper nodded as his father continued to lecture him about how to handle his affairs, but Jasper’s thoughts wandered from his future and his past to fix instead on Jane. He touched the letter again, the paper smooth like her lips beneath his. He’d meant for the kiss to put her off him. Instead of dissuading her, he’d given her even more reason to pursue him and for him to accept. In her soft sigh he’d heard her whispering for him to follow her out of the shadows of his lies and into respectability.

      He wondered if he could.

      He plucked a glass paperweight with a wasp suspended inside it off the table beside his mother, the glass cool and smooth against his palm. At one time he would have followed Jane’s intuition and believed, like she did, in everything working out as planned. After the things he’d seen in Georgia he no longer could, and he couldn’t corrupt her the way his uncle had corrupted him.

      However, if anyone could help him establish his club, it was Jane. She’d always had a knack for making money.

      He rolled the glass between his palms, amazed to find himself considering her offer. A partnership with Jane might have advantages, but it held so many risks. Living as one man during the day and another at night was wearing on him, and not having complete privacy in his parents’ house while his Gough Square town house was being repaired further complicated things. He’d inherited the residence from Uncle Patrick and had intended to move there in the weeks after he’d came home. Then he’d got a good look at the place. It hadn’t been well maintained in the thirty years since Uncle Patrick had left it. Jasper had been forced to employ a builder to see to the much-needed repairs before he could hope to move in. They were almost finished and he would at last have complete privacy, one he didn’t wish to impede with a marriage.

      He couldn’t continue the deceit inside the intimate bonds of a marriage, but as a friend, she might understand. He could confide in her the way he hadn’t been able to do with Milton or anyone else, and trust her to keep his secret the way she’d trusted him enough to be alone in his room and take his nakedness in her stride, confident he’d do nothing against her will. He was certain of it, even if it risked making her recoil from him.

      His hand stilled, trapping the paperweight between his palms before he set it down. He hated to lose her regard so soon after he’d returned, but he must reveal a little of the ugliness ruling him in order to make her understand why they could not marry.

       Chapter Three

      Jane trudged upstairs after a tense and uncomfortable dinner. Philip’s anger had vanished, but there’d been no mistaking his weariness over her behaviour and his constant need to correct it. If her niece and nephews hadn’t chattered throughout the entire meal, masking the adults’ silence, she would have been able to hear herself chew.

      The lively conversation she used to enjoy at meals before Mrs Townsend had left to marry Dr Hale no longer existed. Instead, all discussion seemed to focus on Thomas, Natalie and William’s lessons or antics. Jane loved her niece and nephews, but she missed Laura’s mother and the long hours they used to spend discussing the latest gossip or news. Mrs Townsend, or Mrs Hale as she was now, might not be far away, but Dr Hale’s busy medical practice commanded her time, leaving her little freedom to linger over tea with Jane.

      She stopped at the top of the stairs, wishing she could speak with Mrs Townsend the way she used to, especially to discuss Jasper’s unexpected kiss. She had no idea what to make of it, or how to stop thinking about it. With one finger she traced the curve of the polished wood banister. The potent memory of his tongue caressing hers made her heart skip a beat and his silence all the more irritating. He hadn’t rushed to answer her note.

      I should’ve listened to Philip and simply sold Jasper the building. Her plan had only succeeded in making her appear like a desperate fool. How many times did Jasper have to tell her he wanted nothing more from her than friendship before she’d listen?

      Friendship was the only thing I was offering. He was the one who wanted more. And she should have pushed him away and upbraided him for his forwardness and salvaged something of her pride. If she hadn’t enjoyed the kiss so much she would have.

      I can’t believe I was so weak. She slapped the top of the rail and strode down the hall to her room. Inside, with the door closed, she undid the front flap of her dress and shrugged out of the garment. Laying it aside, she breathed deeply against the soft boning of her stays and made her way to the washstand. She poured some water into the bowl, dipped her hands in and was about to splash her face when her eyes met Jasper’s.

      ‘Good СКАЧАТЬ