‘The bidding for the Fleet Street building, a former tobacconist’s shop and residence, will now commence,’ the auctioneer announced. ‘Do I have an opening bid?’
Milton raised his hand.
Revenge curled inside Jane. If he wanted the building, she’d make sure he didn’t get it. She flung her hand in the air, upping the price and drawing the entire room’s attention, including Milton’s. The businessmen narrowed their eyes at her in disapproval, but Milton’s eyes opened wide before his gaze shifted, she hoped guiltily, back to the auctioneer.
‘What are you doing?’ Justin Connor whispered from beside her, more amused than censorious. He was here with Jane’s brother, Philip Rathbone, who intended to obtain a warehouse near the Thames. Jane had accompanied them because she’d had nothing better to do.
‘I’m bidding on a building,’ she answered as if she were purchasing a new bonnet. Thankfully, Philip had gone off to speak with an associate, preventing him from interfering with her spontaneous plan. Since she’d reached her majority last year, he no longer controlled her inheritance but it didn’t mean he couldn’t interfere in her management of it. With him occupied, she could spend her money how she pleased and she pleased to spend it on a building.
‘I assume your sudden interest in acquiring property has nothing to do with Milton Charton,’ Justin observed with a wry smile.
‘It has everything to do with him.’ She didn’t care if she was buying a house of ill repute or what Philip thought about her little venture when he finally returned. Milton would not win the auction.
‘Then by all means, don’t let me stop you.’ Justin waved toward the wiry man with the pince-nez perched on his nose who called for a higher price. Across the room, Milton raised his hand again and Jane was quick to follow, driving up the bid and making her old beau purse his lips in frustration. She’d once found the gesture endearing. It disgusted her today.
Milton’s hand went up again and Jane responded in kind, pretending to be oblivious to the disapproving looks of the other male bidders. She ignored them, as she did their sons when they sneered at her bold opinions, or when their wives and daughters had whispered about her after Milton’s surprise marriage to Camille Moseley.
The auctioneer continued to call for bids until the other interested parties dropped off, leaving only her and Milton. Except this time Milton hesitated before he raised his hand.
I almost have him. Jane suppressed a smile of triumph as she raised her hand without hesitation. Milton didn’t have the means to compete with her, or his father’s astute investment sense. Thanks to her inheritance, she possessed the money, and with her business acumen she’d find a way to profit from the building. It was a pity people were against the idea of a single young lady doing it. If they weren’t, she might become a force to be reckoned with in the Fleet like her brother. As it was, she was simply a spinster aunt. Oh, how she despised Milton.
Jane raised the bid three more times as Milton became less sure about the price he was willing to pay to acquire it until he finally failed to counter her.
‘Going once,’ the auctioneer called.
Milton tugged at his limp cravat and shifted in his cheap boots, but he didn’t answer.
I’ve won.
‘Going twice.’
Milton frowned at her, but she held her head up high in triumph. He deserved to be embarrassed in front of his associates just as he’d humiliated her in front of all their friends.
‘Sold, to Miss Rathbone.’ The gavel came down, sending a shockwave of critical rumbles through the gentleman before they turned their attention to the next item on the block. They respected Philip too much to say anything openly to her, but it wouldn’t stop them from thinking her odd. She no longer cared. With no husband or house of her own, the building would give her some much-needed purpose and a future.
Justin tipped his hat to her. ‘Congratulations on your victory. Shall we go and collect your prize?’ He motioned to the payment table. They would have to pass Milton to reach it.
‘Yes, let’s.’
She allowed her brother’s old friend to escort her across the room, not only to rub Milton’s nose in her victory, but to secure the property before Philip returned. She didn’t want him to find a way to stop the purchase from going through. He wouldn’t approve of an expenditure based solely on revenge. He preferred rationally motivated investments. So did Jane, except for today.
She fixed on Milton as she approached him, daring him to meet her gaze, and he didn’t answer it until she was nearly on top of him. Better sense advised her to continue past him, but she wanted to dig the knife in a little deeper.
‘Thank you for the rousing bidding war, Mr Charton.’ She was determined he experience some of the humiliation she’d endured when he’d all but left her at the altar two years ago. ‘I hadn’t intended to buy a former tobacconist’s shop today, but I’m quite delighted now I have it and you don’t.’
Milton’s dough-faced shock changed to one of gloating she wanted to smack from his full cheeks. ‘The building wasn’t for me. It was for Jasper.’
‘Jasper?’ Her heart began to race with an elation she hadn’t experienced in years. ‘But he’s in America.’
He’d left, like so many other people in her life. He wasn’t supposed to return.
‘Not any more.’
‘Did we get it?’ The voice from her childhood drifted over her shoulder, bringing with it memories she’d long forgotten. She was gripped by the thrill of running with Jasper through the Fleet when they were children, of turning pennies into pounds with their schemes and eavesdropping on his older sisters at parties. With the memories came the hope in every wish she’d made for him to come back or to send her word he’d changed his mind about their future together. The letter had never come.
Jane fingered the beading on her reticule, ready to walk away instead of facing Jasper and having her cherished memories of him ruined the way Milton had crushed his. A long time ago, the three of them had been so close. Heaven knew what Jasper must think of her now, especially if Milton had been filling his ears with stories. She didn’t want to see the same oily regard in Milton’s eyes echoed in Jasper’s.
No, Jasper is nothing like Milton, she tried to tell herself before the old fears blotted out her reason. Then why did he never write to me? Because I scared him off the way I’ve scared off every other man since.
Stop it, she commanded herself. She wouldn’t allow either the Charton brothers or her own awkwardness to get the better of her; she would be sensible, as always. It was only a childish infatuation anyway.
Jane took a deep breath and turned, determined to face her past, all of it, except it wasn’t the past smiling down at her, but the present. The lanky fifteen-year-old she’d parted from nine years ago was a man, and taller and sturdier than his brother Milton, who was one year older. During the time he’d spent in America learning the cotton trade from his uncle, his jaw had widened, carving out the angles of his cheeks and filling in the awkward gangliness she used to tease him about. He’d grown so tall she had to step back to see his face and the light brown hair mixed with blonde streaks. He wore a well-tailored coat of fine, dark wool with subtle black-velvet accents on the collar and cuffs. It was offset by the deep blue waistcoat hugging his trim middle. Savannah had added elegance to his masculine frame.
‘Mr Charton, welcome home. I never thought you’d return.’ She struggled to hold her voice steady despite the excitement making her want to bounce on her feet.
‘Neither did I.’ He took off his fine beaver hat to bow to her, revealing the slight wave of his hair across his forehead and the