house and face them and Jane with a clear conscience, to stride down the streets with his head held high, openly greeting the men who gathered here, filled him with hope.
The heels of Jane’s boots clicked across the wood floor as she came to join him. ‘Isn’t it wonderful?’
‘It is.’ He wrapped his arms around her waist and held her tight, more grateful than passionate. He’d been fighting alone for so long, thinking it was up to him to heave himself out of the muck. All the while she’d been working and striving to help him. Perhaps he should tell her everything. Maybe she’d find a way to free him from his past and present troubles the same way she had worked so hard to free him from the hell. It tempted him as much as her hand sliding beneath his waistcoat and her fingers twining in his hair to bring his mouth down to hers.
He was about to take her to the couch and add another story to its lore when a cough made him stop. They let go of one another, straightening their clothes as a lanky youth entered the dining room from the hallway leading to the back of the building. ‘Miss Rathbone—I mean Mrs Charton. I didn’t expect you today.’
‘Good morning, Mark.’ Jane shifted effortlessly between seductive wife and practical businesswoman. ‘Jasper, Mark is the son of one of Philip’s men who guard the warehouse. I hired him to keep an eye on things when the workers aren’t here. We don’t need thieves pinching our new furnishings.’ She turned to the young man, wagging a finger at him like a schoolmarm. ‘However, if we were thieves we could’ve been out of here with half the fixtures before you came in on us.’
The boy lowered his bushy red head. ‘I’m sorry, Mrs Charton, I was in the back seeing to a delivery from the draper.’
‘Good, the new curtains have arrived. Did the plasterer call again?’
‘No, but another man came here this morning. Says he knows Mr Charton and wished to see him.’
The entire building shifted around Jasper before he forced it to still. ‘Who was it?’
‘Wouldn’t give his name, but he was thin with nice clothes, if a bit tattered about the edges.’
It didn’t sound like anyone Jasper knew, but it didn’t mean Lord Fenton or Captain Christiansen hadn’t learned who he really was and sent someone to harass him. Whether they meant to do more than threaten to shut down the club he didn’t know. He’d seen bankrupt gamblers in Savannah take out their frustration on dealers and hell owners in dark alleys. It wasn’t difficult to imagine it happening here, though somehow an earl would remain blameless while Jasper and Jane suffered. ‘If he calls again, inform me immediately. I want to meet him.’
‘Should I send him to your house, sir?’
‘No!’ Jasper coughed, aware of the surprise in Jane and Mark’s wide eyes. He cleared his throat and spoke again, careful to keep his voice as even as if he were giving instruction for the baker. ‘Tell him to wait for me here, then summon me at once.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘That will be all, Mark,’ Jane dismissed him and the boy shuffled back to wherever he’d been before they’d arrived.
She turned to Jasper, a wrinkle of concern marring her forehead. ‘Who do you think the stranger is? Someone from Savannah who might out us?’
‘There aren’t enough people left in Savannah to out us.’ Her willingness to include herself in the fraud of the Company Gaming Room touched him, except it wasn’t right. He was the one with secrets, not her, and the desire to be alone gripped him once more. He wanted space to think without having to pretend he wasn’t troubled, but he wouldn’t have it while she stood here watching him. ‘Most likely someone I used to know. Father told everyone I was back once the moratorium was lifted.’
She eyed him like her brother used to, but much less subtle in her suspicions. ‘Then why the need to keep him from our house?’
Tell her. She had a right to know the potential danger the stranger represented, but still he held back. Each night she went to bed believing she was safe. He couldn’t shatter her peace of mind, especially over something that might turn out to be nothing. The man could be anyone, maybe an old acquaintance or even the former owner of the shop. There was no reason to frighten her. ‘I’m sure your brother taught you it doesn’t hurt to be cautious.’
‘He did.’
‘Good, then let’s not worry about it unless we must. There are, after all, other more pleasurable matters to dwell on.’ He pulled her into a kiss. It whispered with a deeper affection, one he was hesitant to name or bring out into the light. It wasn’t fair to allow her to believe he was a strong man of integrity, but he couldn’t endure losing the faith in her blue eyes. She still believed in good and bad and the strength of love. He didn’t wish to steal these things from her the way they’d been ripped from him. He needed her belief in him and their future to help support his. He allowed the tender kiss to come to a sweet end and drew back to study her beautiful face. In her embrace he was Jasper Charton again, not the wounded man who’d returned in his place. ‘Shall we try the couch or should we venture home?’
‘As the curtains are not hung and Mark is still about, I think we should go home.’
* * *
Jane clung to Jasper during the carriage ride home, made weak by the play of his fingers beneath her skirts, the heaviness of his hands on her breasts through her bodice, and the raking of his teeth against her neck. The demands of his desire and hers muted the noise of the streets but not her suspicions about the stranger, or Jasper. Her decision to ignore the events of yesterday and continue on had made things well between them for a while, but the moment Mark had mentioned the stranger, she’d felt Jasper pulling away from her. Even now when he held her, it wasn’t only to make love but to distract them both. Again, something was wrong and he refused to tell her what.
Their spirited sprint up the front stairs of the house once they reached home didn’t contain the lightness of the auction in Somers Town or their night at the theatre. Even once they were in bed with her skirt hiked up about her waist and his jacket discarded on the floor, his mind was somewhere not even her caresses could touch. The hesitation which had settled over him didn’t come off as easily as his waistcoat, despite how hard he worked to make her believe otherwise. Even while she undid the knot of his cravat and traced the hollow of his neck beneath with her tongue, the quickness of his kisses and the steady pace of his fingers were almost mechanical. He was here, yet he wasn’t as free with her as he’d been before. She considered holding back a part of herself, too, but she couldn’t. Whatever was bothering him, he was, in his own way, turning to her instead of pushing her away and she cared too much about him to deny him the comfort of her embrace. She fumbled with the buttons of his waistcoat, wanting nothing to come between his body and hers. Despite her suspicions about him, in his arms, she felt beautiful, and special and loved.
Love.
She pulled back, her hands stilling on his shirt, unsure if it was really love. She hadn’t bargained for anything but friendship when they’d negotiated their betrothal and she hesitated to assume there might be more. At times, their shared humour drove away his brief flashes of darkness, and his confidence in her abilities kept her doubts about herself at bay. He was so much more to her than a friend and the fire in his eyes tempted her to defy her fear and say it aloud, but she couldn’t. She wasn’t sure he’d say it back or appreciate her trying to drag him into affection he wasn’t willing or prepared to give. She took his face in her hands and kissed him hard, meeting his furious passion with her own, wanting, like him, to
