“I will not allow you to turn a discussion about your safety into an argument about independence and the drawbacks of matrimony.”
“Won’t allow. I see. Is this acceptance and rejection of acquaintances reciprocal? Can I forbid you to meet with Lord Westfield?”
“You are deliberately baiting me.”
“I am simply attempting to discern where the boundaries are, and if they apply equally to both of us.”
“Westfield is no danger to anyone.”
“Maybe I know something you do not,” she challenged. “Of course, if I follow your example, I don’t have to share what I know with you.”
She looked away to hide the prickling of tears and saw Lord Montague approaching. Her shoulders went back.
“Miss Martin.” Montague kissed the back of the hand she extended to him, then released her with a stately dip of his head. He looked at Jasper. “Mr. Bond. May I extend felicitations to you?”
Jasper’s lips curved in a teeth-baring smile. “You may, my lord. I accept them with pleasure.”
Eliza knew the rigidness of her posture betrayed the op-positional nature of her conversation with Jasper, but she was too frustrated to care overmuch.
“Is it too much to hope, Miss Martin,” the earl said, “that you might still have room on your dance card for me?”
“The next waltz is yours.”
A tic in Jasper’s jaw filled her with acrimonious satisfaction.
She’d deliberately withheld the evening’s two waltzes. Not for Montague, but as a token gesture for Jasper. She had intended for her next waltz to be with him, even though it would take weeks for him to learn the steps and absorb them into memory.
“It appears I, too, am fortunate,” Montague said. “Although not to the same degree as you, Mr. Bond.”
“So it seems.” Jasper’s features were set in hard lines.
The orchestra played a few brief notes to alert the guests that the next dance would soon begin. Eliza gratefully excused herself and searched for her partner, Baron Brimley. As she moved away from the terrible tension emanating from Jasper, her breathing became easier. Reason returned to her, swiftly followed by regret. She disliked that they’d quarreled. Worse, she disliked herself.
Jasper watched Eliza walk away with undue haste and berated himself for sparking their first argument. He knew he had to tread lightly with her or risk her thrusting issues of money and independence between them, but he’d been discomfited into acting rashly. The surprise of learning that she’d met with Montague drove him to be harsh and unyielding, yet his ignorance was his own fault. Lynd had called upon him unexpectedly, and Jasper made the mistake of delaying the daily reports in order to accommodate his old mentor.
How could he have been so careless? He lived by rigid schedules and timetables for a reason—they kept things running smoothly and without startling incidents. Compounding his error by expelling the anger that should rightly have been self-directed only made the situation worse. He’d now caused a rift between him and Eliza that he could ill-afford.
“You have Byron’s brooding countenance mimicked to perfection,” Montague said. “I didn’t try that tactic when attempting to woo Miss Martin.”
Jasper’s head turned slowly, his expression altering to reveal no emotion whatsoever. He and his half-brother were nearly of a height. The similarities between them were numerous enough that Jasper shifted slightly to put more distance between them. “I cannot say I’m sorry you lost her to me.”
Montague smiled and rocked back on his heels, blissfully oblivious to the resemblance between them and the reason for it. “You are somewhat of a mystery, Mr. Bond.”
“Ask me what you want to know. Perhaps I’ll answer you.”
“How do you feel about coal?”
A ripple of satisfaction moved through Jasper. Could acquiring the information he needed be so easy? “It’s a necessity. Life would be miserable without it.”
“My thoughts exactly.” The earl’s smile turned into a grin. “I have a speculation you might find interesting.”
Jasper pushed Eliza from his mind and managed a smile. “You have the entirety of my attention, my lord.”
By the time the Earl of Montague collected Eliza for their waltz, her ire had vanished. Still, she was completely out of sorts. For the first time, she understood that she’d lived her life without conflict after her mother passed on. No one disagreed with her because there were no points of contention; she was not obliged to explain herself nor meld her viewpoint with anyone else’s. The result of her unchallenged independence was that she was sorely unprepared for arguments. Her entire body responded negatively to discord. She had a headache, and her stomach was upset, even though she was no longer angry.
“I’ve never seen you look lovelier, Miss Martin,” Montague murmured, as he set his hand at her waist.
“Thank you.” She stared at his cravat, noting its elaborate style and thick starching.
Montague had dressed flamboyantly in peacock blue velvet and a multi-colored waistcoat. His attire was far removed from Jasper’s more somber style, and yet the earl’s height and physical coloring were uncannily accurate substitutes for Jasper. The similarity caused Eliza to focus on how the earl made allowances for her shorter stature when an upraised arm position dictated it. He was a highly accomplished dancer, leading her expertly through the steps. She took mental notes for use in Jasper’s dancing lessons, grateful the preoccupation afforded her some respite from her emotional turmoil.
“You have aroused my curiosity,” he said.
“In what regard?”
“Your matchmaking skills.”
Eliza frowned. “I didn’t say I possessed any. Only that I could find someone more suitable for you than I.”
“Suggestions?” His dark eyes were laughing.
“I believe any unmarried woman in attendance tonight would fit that criterion.”
“For shame,” he cried, laughing, and thereby turning heads toward them. “To foster hope, only to dash it with a cruel jest.”
“Fustian. You could have anyone.”
“Except for you.”
It took her a moment to realize he was teasing her. “How about Audora Winfield?” she offered.
“Her laugh drives me to madness.”
“Jane Rothschild?”
“I frighten her. She stammers and turns red. The best we’ve managed were short stretches of time at a house party where I spoke incessantly to fill the void and she nodded vigorously to everything I said.”
“Poor thing. Perhaps more time spent with her will alleviate her nervousness?”
“Too torturous for both of us, I think. Certainly too much work.”
“Lady Sarah Tanner?”
He shook his head.
“What fault does she have?” Eliza asked.
Montague hesitated a moment, then said, “She is…overbold.”
“Oh. I see.” She found herself at a loss. There were others, she was sure, but she couldn’t name them offhand. “Perhaps you would be best served by waiting for a new Season and new debutantes?”
“As recently as yesterday, I would have said I could not afford to wait that long.”
“And today?”
“Today, I have renewed hope that I can buy the time necessary to find a suitable replacement for you. I believe I have found a solid investment with a high probability of return. Mr. Bond might join me in the pool. We have plans to discuss it further tomorrow.”
“Do you?”
Why would Jasper consider investing with Montague when he claimed not to trust the earl and knew him to be insolvent? It was unreasonable. And that wasn’t her only concern. What was Jasper’s experience with investments? Did he know what he was involving himself in?
In the morning, she would ask Reynolds to look into Montague’s speculation and assess its potential. Then, she’d approach Jasper directly and ask him to explain. If he refused to answer, she would give him an ultimatum—share with her or lose her.
They could progress no further as a couple with so much unsaid between them.
Chapter 12
“I’m sorry.”
Eliza turned away from the French doors leading to the rear garden and faced Jasper. He entered the Melville ballroom with a determined, forceful stride. There were over one hundred feet of marble floor between them, but she felt his presence keenly.
“Close the door,” she said.
He drew to a halt. The massive room was dimly lit, with only the indirect morning sunlight at her back offering any illumination. She heard him take a deep breath before turning around and returning to the door.
As the click of the latch echoed through the room, she asked, “Did you sleep well?”
“No.” Jasper resumed the long walk to where she stood, passing the many mural vignettes without looking. “But then, I’ve never slept well. There is too much to be done and not enough time in the day.”
“I didn’t sleep well either.” She absorbed the rush of sensation she always felt upon first sight of him. Interspersed between the Georgian-era vignettes of a picnic party were long, slender mirrors framed by cream-colored molding. The result was many Jaspers filling the room. Her reaction was equally magnified.
“I apologize for last night,” he said again, reaching for her and pulling her into his arms. Lowering his head, he sealed his mouth over hers.
There was nothing remorseful about his kiss. It was hot, fierce, and lustful. Jasper’s tongue teased her lips open, then licked inside. The taste of him exploded across her senses, awakening a powerful need to possess him.
Eliza caught him to her with fevered desperation. Her arms encircled his shoulders, her fingers pushed into his silky hair and cupped his nape. Her breasts swelled against his chest, the lingering soreness between her legs forgotten in a rush of slick moisture. She wanted to bare his skin, rub her open mouth across it, caress him with her hands and uninhibited undulations of her body.
He groaned and twisted his mouth away.
“Jasper…?”
“I handled myself poorly.” He rested his temple against hers. “I know you won’t tolerate being dictated to.”
She no longer wanted to talk, but knew they must. Sexual passion could not be all they had. “H-how do you know that?”
“Because I pay attention to you.” He set her away from him. “And I’m a good judge of character.”
“You have me at a disadvantage. I know nothing about you beyond your livelihood and your wish to marry me.”
“You know how I look without my clothes on. And how I feel inside you.”
She wanted him inside her now. Ached for the feeling of fullness and delicious friction. The incendiary rush of climax and the repletion that followed.
Eliza linked her hands behind her back and circled him, her green skirts swaying around her legs. “That isn’t enough for me in quiet, contemplative moments. I think of you and how I act when I’m around you, and I do not recognize myself. You are the catalyst for the changes in me, yet you’re an enigma. Can you understand how difficult it is for me to experience such upheaval with no foundation upon which to lay it?”
He turned his head to keep their gazes connected. “I know it appears as if I haven’t altered as much or sacrificed as much as you have.”
“You aren’t the only one sorry about their behavior last night. I said and did things I regretted almost the moment they happened. I was irritated with you and reacted unthinkingly.”
“Relationships are fraught with such behavior. It’s perfectly normal.”
“It will not be normal for us, or I want nothing to do with it.”
His stance widened. “What are you saying?”
Slowing in front of him, she eyed him from head to toe. He was dressed for riding in snug doeskin breeches and polished Hessians. The powerful muscles of his thighs and calves were clearly delineated. He crossed his arms, as if in preparation for a confrontation, and his flexing biceps strained the seams of his dark gray coat.
He was the most attractive, sexually alluring man she’d ever crossed paths with.
“I cannot hide how I want you,” she said huskily. “I want to be in your bed even now, despite the fact that it’s the middle of the morning. I want you so badly I burn with it.”
“Eliza.”
“See how you’ve changed me, that I can say such things aloud? But desire alone won’t be enough impetus to wed you. I could insist on an affair instead.” She rounded him again. “I agreed to your proposal because you’ve been honest with me. Although you haven’t revealed much of yourself, what you have shared up to this point has been truthful.”
Jasper caught her arm as she came around. “I’m different with you, as well. I am learning to adjust. You will, too.”
“Not unless you become more than a stranger to me. You once said your past and future are irrelevant. But since then, you’ve asked me to blend your future with mine. To create a joint future. Our future. In order for that to happen, you have to show me the road upon which you travel. I cannot be led along blindly. If you won’t commit to sharing, then we are finished before we begin.”
“The future is shaped by the past.” His throat worked on a hard swallow. “My past will alter your view of me. The risk of you turning away from what I am is too great.”
Eliza cupped his cheek. With every inhale, she smelled the beloved scent of his skin. “What kind of life would we have together, if we continue to do and say things to each other we lament? It’s the worst sort of dishonesty. I’ve seen it before, and I know it ends in sorrow and misery. I don’t want that for you, or for me. I do not want that for us.”
He caught her hand and kissed her palm. “You speak of your parents.”
