Historical Romance May 2017 Books 1 - 4. Bronwyn Scott
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‘I’m sorry I didn’t keep in touch with you after I left,’ he offered. ‘More than once I wondered what you were up to here in London.’
‘Not very much.’ She smoothed her skirt with her hands, touched by his apology. It eased a great number of old disappointments. ‘There were dances and picnics, shopping and dinners, and the weddings of all my friends. No one took a fancy to me, at least no one who didn’t bolt.’
‘I’m sorry for what Milton did.’
‘Don’t be. I wasn’t in love with him as much as I was in love with the idea of my old friend being my husband.’ The possibility still held more appeal to her than waiting for some future romance. She didn’t need love, not if she had Jasper, her friend, for a husband.
‘I’m surprised Philip allowed the engagement. He of all people should have recognised Milton’s weakness.’
‘He did, but I didn’t listen.’ She’d ignored every warning thrown in her path until the morning Milton had left her. ‘I wish I had. It would’ve spared me a great deal of embarrassment.’
‘You’re better off without him.’
‘I am and his eloping spared me from having to wear the thin little ring he purchased. His poor wife has it now.’
‘Milton always was miserly.’ Jasper grinned and so did she, glad to find some humour in her misfortune.
‘What about you? Did you impress the ladies in Savannah?’
He reached up to grab the strap above the window. ‘I had my share of amusements.’
‘Did you now?’ She was as curious as she was jealous.
A spark of mirth lit up his eyes. ‘There was one tobacco merchant’s daughter I tried to court, but she rebuffed me the moment she discovered I wasn’t a lord but from the same solid merchant stock as her father.’
‘Did she ever get her title?’
‘No, she died in the epidemic.’ The mischievous Jasper faded into one much older than his twenty-four years. He turned to stare out the coach window at the dimly lit streets, a darkness coming into his eyes which made her shiver. ‘You have no idea the things I lived through in Savannah.’
He spoke with a weariness she understood. It was the one she’d experienced during the two weeks of her parents’ illness and which swathed her around this time every year. Jane leaned across the carriage and clasped his fingers tight. ‘It’s over now.’
The pressure of her touch seemed to startle Jasper, but he didn’t recoil from her. Instead he turned his hand over to hold hers. ‘No, it’s not. It’s still with me and sometimes as real as you sitting there.’
He let go of her and sat back, rubbing his thumb across the tops of his knuckles as he fisted his hand and brought it to his lips. A long moment passed and the clatter of the equipage settled in the quiet. Then he lowered his fist to his knee, tapping it in time to the rocking of the coach. ‘When the epidemic first began no one really thought anything of it. Every summer there were incidents of yellow fever—even I had a mild bout of it the summer before. It’d claim a few people and then disappear when the weather turned cold. It was clear something was different that year.’
‘But you didn’t know what.’
‘Not until it was upon us.’ He continued to stare out the window, his attention fixed on something not outside, but in the past and across an ocean. ‘Those who could fled to their plantations, but death followed them. I was one of the thousands caught in the city after the quarantine.’
‘How awful it must have been.’ She longed to embrace him and drive away the sadness in his eyes, to comfort him the way he’d done for her so many times around the anniversary of her parents’ death, but she didn’t move. It was clear by the stoic set of his jaw he didn’t want her pity any more than she ever wanted anyone else’s.
‘It wasn’t so bad at first, with people flocking to our hell to enjoy themselves before death snatched them away. I enjoyed life with them; you see, once you’ve had Yellow Jack, you can’t catch it again, but it doesn’t mean you can’t suffer or be afraid. We stayed open until the authorities closed all the public places. By then everything was falling apart, and even if you weren’t sick, you were starving. No amount of money or influence could buy you food. It was the first time I’ve ever experienced what it was like to be without and unable to provide for those I care for.’
‘Your uncle?’
He nodded. ‘There was nothing I could do to save him and I could barely feed him either. It’s the reason I started the hell when I came home. Yellow Jack may not be here, but I’ve seen what happens to people who fall into poverty. I don’t ever want to be unable to provide for those I care about again.’ He offered her a sad and apologetic smile. ‘Unfortunately, gambling is the only trade I know.’
‘I understand. I’m not supposed to want a business, but without a husband, in the end, it might be the only thing to keep me should something ever happen to my inheritance. I don’t want to be spinster, but I certainly don’t wish to be a poor one.’
‘You won’t be. You’re too clever.’
She wished she shared his high opinion, but she didn’t. He had his hell and would some day have his club. She would still be alone and growing older. However, nothing she had suffered or endured compared to what Jasper had gone through. She admired his strength and vowed to be more like him. He hadn’t given up in the face of death and sickness. She couldn’t crumble beneath a few setbacks.
The carriage rocked to a halt at the entryway to the alley behind the Rathbone house, the one which led to the garden. The mist had thickened during their ride, but the faint outline of the garden gate was visible. It’d been a lifetime since Jane had last viewed it from this angle, when she and Jasper and Milton had returned from an outing, with her dressed in Philip’s old clothes and a soft hat covering her hair. Back then, she used to creep through the shadows and in the garden gate, steal past Philip’s room and slide into bed as if she’d been there the entire night. Tonight, she’d do it again once more.
Jasper stepped out of the coach and held out his hand to help her down. She gripped it as she joined him on the pavement, reluctant to let go. She didn’t want to leave him to ride home alone with the memories of all the awful things he’d seen accompanying him. To her surprise he didn’t release her hand, but covered it with the other one. ‘Thank you for not judging me too harshly for what I do.’
‘I could never judge you harshly, not even for refusing me.’
‘It’s why I trusted you.’
She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him close. ‘If you need someone to talk to, don’t be afraid to come to me. I’ll listen and keep anything else you want to tell me a secret.’
She squeezed him tight