* * *
‘What the hell were you two doing?’ Jasper’s father blustered while his mother sat embroidering, as sensible and calm as her husband was agitated.
‘Discussing business,’ Jasper answered in all seriousness. He slipped his hand inside his coat pocket and fingered the letter which had been delivered a short time ago. He had to admire Jane’s tenacity; she was determined when she set her mind to something and she’d set her mind on him. With the firm imprint of Jane’s breasts against his chest sharper than a shot of brandy, the thought of allowing things to play out as Jane had written held a certain appeal. After the kiss, she could have asked him to rob a mail coach with her and he would have gone along. It had taken him hours to come to his senses.
His father dropped the crystal stopper of the decanter on the table beside it. ‘In your room?’
‘I didn’t invite her there. She appeared all on her own.’
‘Preposterous. It’s not something a lady of her breeding would even consider.’ His father shook his head. ‘Next you’ll tell me she gambles and I detest gambling. Men default on my loans because they’re throwing their money away at the tables while leaving their children to starve and their businesses to founder. Why, I had a cheesemonger’s son in here the other day trying to beg money from me because he’s wasting everything while his father slaves away. The man made me sick.’
This wasn’t the first time Jasper had heard this sort of thing. He’d grown up having the evils of gambling drilled into him. He should have listened to his father.
‘I think this little incident sounds exactly like something Jane would do. She’s always been a bit wild.’ His mother drew a long thread through her embroidery hoop, amused rather than disgusted by Jane’s more than usually outlandish behaviour. ‘You remember the time she dressed up as a boy to visit the coaching inn with you and Milton.’
‘Or the time she went with us to buy tobacco at the auction, thinking she could sell it at a higher price by the docks.’ It was one of Jasper’s fondest memories of Jane.
‘She made quite a profit from that little endeavour, didn’t she?’
‘So did I. It was Milton who lost money because he wouldn’t listen to her and buy a pouch.’
‘Well, there’s your brother for you.’ His mother loved her children, but wasn’t blind to their faults, not even Jasper’s. If she ever learned the true extent of them, she’d throw Jasper out of the house. She was a patient and tolerant lady, but even she had her limits. If his father ever found out where Jasper’s money really came from he’d exile him from the family for good.
Jasper took a deep breath, pushing back his worries. He’d make sure his father never discovered the true source of his income or his inheritance.
‘What the devil has got into the two of you?’ His father frowned. Mr Rathbone had informed Jasper’s parents of the incident, to his surprise leaving out the part about the kiss. It was a good thing he had. With so many Charton siblings, there were few secrets anyone in the family could keep. At times, Jasper was amazed he’d been able to hold on to his for so long. ‘Miss Rathbone isn’t a child any more, but a grown woman who should know better than to act like a wh—’
‘Henry, mind your tongue,’ Jasper’s mother warned.
‘Don’t get me wrong, I love the girl like she was my own and she has an admirable head for investments, but all this nonsense today does make one wonder.’ He took a hearty drink.
‘She’s stubborn, like her mother, God rest her soul.’ Jane’s mother had been Jasper’s mother’s best friend.
‘You’re lucky Philip didn’t march you two up the aisle.’ His father poured himself more brandy, stopped by a stern look from his wife from filling up the glass. ‘Maybe I should. Man like you establishing himself in London after being gone so long doesn’t need Philip Rathbone working against you. You need him with you.’
Being so intimately connected to Mr Rathbone was the last thing Jasper needed. If anyone could ferret out Jasper’s secret it was Philip. Jasper had caught the scrutiny her brother had lodged at him the moment he’d broken from Jane in his bedroom. It was the look he remembered from when they were kids and the man could guess at once exactly where they’d been and what they’d been up to. He had the elder Mr Rathbone’s gift for sizing people up in an instant.
Jasper fingered the letter again, wondering if her note was to be believed and if Philip was indeed planning to haul Jasper and Jane to the altar. If so, he’d have to find a way to turn Philip down and it wouldn’t be any easier than refusing Jane. He admired him and his father was right, he couldn’t afford to make an enemy of the man. The best he could hope for was Philip turning his attention elsewhere and having no reason to pry into Jasper’s affairs by insisting on a wedding.
‘Whatever happens, you can’t let it distract you from establishing your club. The money from the sale of your American goods won’t support you for ever,’ Jasper’s father continued. ‘I’m still amazed what you brought back from Savannah garnered as much as it did.’
‘It appears there’s a better market here for old Louis XIV than in America. So much for superior English taste.’ Jasper forced himself to laugh, pretending like always to be light-hearted. It was the only way to hide the lies weighing him down.
‘You’ll run through the money if you keep spending it like a drunk earl,’ his father blustered and Jasper pressed his lips tight together to hold back a retort. Like the rest of his family, his father failed to understand why Jasper indulged in a few fine things. Death had brushed up against him in Savannah and he was determined to embrace life in London. Besides, it wasn’t only himself he spent money on, but on the footmen and dealers who needed it more than he did.
‘I don’t know what you learned about managing your affairs from your Uncle Patrick. Heaven knows he...’ A warning look from Jasper’s mother made his father abandon whatever line of reasoning he’d embarked on concerning his mother’s favourite brother. ‘Either way, you’re here now, not in America. You must be swift and decisive and stop missing out on opportunities like the Fleet Street building.’
Jasper nodded as his father continued to lecture him about how to handle his affairs, but Jasper’s thoughts wandered from his future and his past to fix instead on Jane. He touched the letter again, the paper smooth like her lips beneath his. He’d meant for the kiss to put her off him. Instead of dissuading her, he’d given her even more reason to pursue him and for him to accept. In her soft sigh he’d heard her whispering for him to follow her out of the shadows of his lies and into respectability.
He wondered if he could.
He plucked a glass paperweight with a wasp suspended inside it off the table beside his mother, the glass cool and smooth against his palm. At one time he would have followed Jane’s intuition and believed, like she did, in everything working out as planned. After the things he’d seen in Georgia he no longer could, and he couldn’t corrupt her the way his uncle had corrupted him.
However, if anyone could help him establish his club, it was Jane. She’d always had a knack for making money.
He rolled the glass between his palms, amazed to find himself considering her offer. A partnership with Jane might have advantages, but it held so many risks. Living as one man during the day and another at night was wearing on him, and not having complete privacy in his parents’ house while his Gough Square town house was being repaired further complicated things. He’d inherited the residence from Uncle Patrick and had intended to move there in the weeks after he’d came home. Then he’d got a good look at the place. It hadn’t been well maintained in the thirty years since Uncle Patrick had left it. Jasper had been forced to employ a builder to see to the much-needed repairs before he could hope to move in. They were almost finished and he would