in the papers, sniggering together at her boldness and quick to hide the stories whenever Laura or Philip had entered the room. It had been years since the woman’s name had appeared in the gossip columns, but there was no forgetting her antics, including a dip in the Vauxhall Gardens lake in nothing but her chemise.
She whirled on Jasper, who continued to smile like a sly fox. ‘Why didn’t you say something sooner, or stop me?’
‘Because I enjoyed watching you bid. You have a flare for auctions.’
‘But think of the money we’ve wasted. If anyone finds out where we got the service they’ll be horrified.’
‘Or intrigued.’ Jasper nudged her with his elbow. ‘The china is the closest most men will ever come to a famous courtesan and we’ll offer it to them. It’ll make our club the talk of the Fleet.’
No, this was not at all as she’d imagined. It was better. ‘You think so?’
‘I do.’
‘Then let’s purchase the couch and really give them something to discuss.’
* * *
Jasper sat at his desk in the gambling hell, signing off on letters of credit. Through the wall behind him, a great cheer went up. Someone must be doing well at the Hazard table. He returned his pen to the gilded holder of a peacock with full plumage and reached for an equally ornate duster. He didn’t wish the winner ill despite what it meant for the night’s takings. After his day with Jane, it was difficult to be in a bad mood. Jane’s joy at the auction, and the zeal with which she’d acquired a few more of the scandalous old woman’s things, had been a delight to see. Afterwards, they’d spent the rest of the afternoon writing adverts for the club, the work drawing them closer together and hinting at a far better future than the one he’d imagined more than a week ago. With regret he’d left her to come here, eager to return to his bed and her arms come the sunrise.
A series of loud groans from the night’s boisterous crowd began to puncture the quiet of Jasper’s sanctuary. The player’s luck must have given out.
Jasper reached for the grocer’s bill when raised voices and an argument made him halt.
‘Damn you, man, I’ll do as I like. Spin the wheel.’
‘Sir, please, listen to reason,’ came a dealer’s voice.
‘Spin, you bastard.’
Mr Bronson rushed into the office. ‘Captain Christiansen is playing too deep and losing and he isn’t happy about it. I tried denying him credit, hoping it would be enough to discourage him, but he has his own money tonight, more than I’ve ever seen him bring here.’
‘Where did he get it? He hasn’t been to sea in months,’ Jasper asked, rising from the desk.
‘Don’t know, but he won’t have much of it if he keeps playing the way he is.’
Jasper traced the edge of the brass peacock’s fan. ‘All right, cut him off. Take Adam with you and escort Captain Christiansen downstairs as discreetly as possible.’
‘That’ll be hard. He’s likely to make a fuss.’
‘Then try to appeal to his gentlemanly sense of embarrassment and do what you can. I’ll wait down there for you and tell him he’s banned from playing here.’
‘You sure you want to make yourself known?’
Jasper twisted his wedding band on his finger. ‘This place will soon be yours. Better he have a grudge against me than you.’ It would be Jasper’s first steps out of the shadows, one of the many he’d have to take to leave this life behind.
Mr Bronson headed back into the game room to orchestrate the delicate removal of Captain Christiansen while Jasper made his way downstairs. He waited in the dim light of the warehouse. The scratch of a rat scurrying through the few crates stacked along the wall was barely audible over the laughter and voices drifting down through the ceiling. As much as he hated these encounters they were necessary. If he’d stepped in and taken similar action with Mr Robillard, and heaven knew how many others, so many things might be different now, including his view of himself.
He didn’t need to wonder if Captain Christiansen was being disagreeable. His loud protests as Mr Bronson and Adam, the bulky footman, escorted Captain Christiansen to the ground floor were proof enough.
‘How dare you treat me like a pickpocket?’ Captain Christiansen wrenched out of Adam’s firm grip. ‘Do you know who I am?’
‘The second son of Lord Fenton,’ Jasper announced, stepping into the lantern light near the back door to meet the men.
‘And who are you?’ Captain Christiansen demanded. He was tall and round faced like his father the Earl, but with a higher forehead and more hair. His skin was tanned from his years at sea and would never lighten to a more aristocratically preferred pallid white.
‘Mr Patrick, the owner of this establishment.’ It was one thing for Captain Christiansen to meet him, but he wasn’t ready for the man to spread his identity all over London. Jasper might be working to leave this life, but he still couldn’t risk his family learning of it. ‘I thank you for your patronage, but it cannot continue.’
‘You think I don’t have enough to play in your rotten room, but I have more money than you can imagine.’ He poked one finger in the air at Jasper.
‘I’m sure you do.’ Jasper allowed the man his dignity in an effort to make him more compliant. ‘But I don’t permit men to ruin themselves here. I must insist you no longer frequent this establishment.’
‘You can’t ruin me. My brother is sick, the wasting disease.’ He seemed to relish his brother’s impending demise.
‘I’m sorry for his ill health.’ Even with the lingering estrangement between Jasper and Milton, he’d never wish death on him, even if it meant Jasper and not Milton would inherit his parents’ wealth and business. It made the need to be rid of Captain Christiansen all the stronger.
‘My almighty father settled a great deal on me to make me resign my commission. I’m suddenly precious to him when before he didn’t think twice about throwing me to the horrors of the Navy at thirteen.’
Jasper exchanged a wary look with Mr Bronson. Captain Christiansen hadn’t been playing with his money, assuming he had any left, but his father’s. In the last few days, Jasper had heard disturbing rumours about the Fenton family’s mounting debts. He had no idea how much of Lord Fenton’s already diminished wealth this man had lost.
Captain Christiansen mistook the silence. ‘Already regretting kicking a future earl out of your filthy gaming room?’ The captain was reaching far into the future and his lineage to try to assert dominance over Jasper—it didn’t work. He’d lost his respect for nobility in America.
‘I’m safeguarding the legacy your father has settled on you, the one you’ll some day pass on to your son.’ The Charton family might not have a manor house or a title, but his parents had always valued family and the business Milton would one day inherit, the one his father had inherited from Jasper’s grandfather.
‘There’s your legacy.’ Captain Christiansen spat at Jasper’s feet. ‘I could
