the glint of mischief in her azure eyes.
Jasper pushed himself up and leaned back against the stuffed pillows, trying to shake off his weariness. ‘How did you sneak past my parents?’
‘I didn’t sneak. I came in through the front door. Your mother was the one who sent me up. Since we’re betrothed and a date is set it seems she is no longer scandalised by the idea of my seeing you déshabillé.’
‘So I see.’ His mother possessed a practical sense of things.
‘Even if she hadn’t told me to come in here, your father’s security is so lax it’s a wonder the thieves of London aren’t parading through the sitting room every day helping themselves to their things, and yours, though I’m not sure who’d want your things.’ She picked up the clock, wrinkling her nose at the overly ornate gilding on the case before she set it back down. ‘Your decor will have to change once we’re married.’
‘I look forward to it.’ And to more intimate time in the bedroom with her. The memory of her lips beneath his made him trill his fingers on the cool sheets, eager to touch her silken hair and a few other soft and enticing places. He crossed his hands on his stomach. Temptation was dangerous, as he’d discovered in Savannah, but he’d be a liar if he said he’d never been tempted by Jane. At fifteen, despite their long friendship, salacious thoughts of her had cost him many a goodnight’s sleep. He could imagine what his fifteen-year-old self would say if he knew he was days away from experiencing one of the many fantasies he’d concocted about her in the middle of the night.
‘So, what, or should I say who, kept you up so late last night?’ she asked in a crisp voice. There was no missing the jealousy flavouring her question or the true intention of this visit. She’s here to make sure I uphold my end of the contract. Her brother had taught her well.
‘I was quite free of female company if that’s what you’re getting at.’ He ran his hands through his hair, determined to prove himself and make her forget yesterday’s misstep. ‘But if you’d like to keep me awake tonight, I wouldn’t protest.’
Her eyes dropped to his chest, then lower down to another muscle hidden beneath the coverlet. ‘I’m keeping you awake right now.’
‘Indeed, you are.’ He laced his fingers behind his head. ‘Anything in particular you’d like to do about it?’
‘Not this morning.’ The faint hint of pink colouring her cheeks undermined her courage. It increased his desire to pull her into bed and teach her something, but he didn’t. He doubted his mother was so open-minded when it came to their betrothal.
It was time to get down to less pleasurable business. ‘What about the Fleet Street building do you wish to discuss?’
She rose, plucked his discarded Jermyn Street shirt off the foot of the bed and flung it at him. ‘Get up and we will visit it together and I’ll tell you.’
* * *
‘I’ve given a great deal of thought to the food we’ll offer here,’ Jane announced while they stood in the entry hall of the musty building. It had been closed up for weeks and the remnants of tobacco and shattered clay pipes lay scattered across the unpolished floor.
‘Shouldn’t we consider the condition first?’ He wiped a line of dust off the dull banister. In the midst of their dirty surroundings, Jane dazzled in her fitted blue pelisse with the stiff collar brushing the slant of her delicate chin. The hint of the cream dress beneath, and the smooth skin of her chest visible at the open V, made concentrating on work a challenge.
‘I did, right after I purchased it. My builder assures me it’s sound and, with little more than some cleaning and paint, we can open as soon as everything else is in place. Tell me which rooms you intend to use for what activities and I’ll start gathering the necessary items.’
He motioned with his hat to the front window overlooking Fleet Street, determined to think about the club and not the subtle hint of her curving hips beneath her long skirt. ‘We’ll offer cigars and wine in there. The back room will be a lounge.’
‘And upstairs?’
‘Private rooms for men to conduct confidential business.’
She crossed her arms under her full breasts. ‘What kind of confidential business?’
‘The business kind of business.’ He took her hand and slid his other around her waist. Her eyes widened when he snapped her close, her chest catching like his before his wink drew out her smile. Then he waltzed her into the dining room before spinning her out so her skirts flared around her ankles. He let go of her, sending her whirling gracefully across the empty room. ‘Do you think we should offer dancing?’
‘Certainly not. We don’t want to distract men from spending money.’ She pressed one hand to her chest and struggled to speak through her giggles. The collusion making her eyes flash reminded him of when they used to sneak out to Club Row Market to feed the puppies for sale before their owners caught them. ‘But we’ll serve better fare than what they’re used to and give them a reason to bring clients here instead of dining at home.’
‘Good idea. I’ll leave it to you to choose the chef and the menu since you’re more acquainted with London tastes than I am.’ He spun his hat between his hands, picturing the room full of tables covered with white linen and fine port and beef with men discussing contracts and trade. Jasper would stand proud among them instead of skulking in the shadows of night. His only ties to the hell would be the money which would continue to come in and protect them from the prospect of poverty.
‘I already have an idea for a special cheese, a delicacy to tempt them. We must also choose the decor. This must look like a respectable place of business, not a colonial bordello.’ She slid him a teasing look before turning her attention to the dining room. ‘You can close the hell at once and sell its contents to pay for what we need here.’
Jasper tightened his grip on his hat, denting the brim before he released it. ‘I can’t.’
She whirled to face him, shoulders set for a fight. ‘Why not? I thought you wanted to leave it behind.’
‘I do, but I owe it to Mr Bronson to offer it to him before I depart. I can’t do it as a gutted shell.’
She narrowed her eyes at him as if wanting to say she didn’t entirely believe his intention to give it to a friend instead of closing it outright. ‘Have you spoken to him to see if he even wants it?’
‘I have and he does.’ At least this was the truth.
‘And will you be keeping a share of its profits?’
Damn, she was too intuitive. He wasn’t ready to have this conversation, but there was no avoiding it now. ‘Yes.’
‘You can’t expect to clear your conscience with a toe in each world.’
‘I can’t risk us going broke if the club fails either.’ He wouldn’t have them burning through his money and hers in an effort to stay out of debtors’ prison.
‘It won’t fail. We won’t let it, especially if our livelihoods depend on it.’
He didn’t share her confidence, not after all the times he’d seen men go from wealthy to broke with one turn of the cards. His silence dimmed her optimism.
