Sylvia Day - Pride and Pleasure

“You are full of surprises lately,” Regina murmured. “To think…Secret proposals from two of the most eligible bachelors of the ton. Absolutely delicious. Does Mr. Bond know who his competition was?”

“Yes.”

“Lord Montague is being laudably gracious. Look at him speaking so civilly with your betrothed. And what a pair they make. From this distance, one could almost imagine them as brothers.”

“My understanding is that the similarities between the two exist only on the exterior.”

Regina leaned closer. “Your tone is intriguing.”

Eliza lowered her voice to a whisper. “Have you ever heard anything of a worrisome nature about Lord Montague?”

“Such as?”

“Never mind. There are some things it’s best not to know.”

“You cannot initiate such a topic, only to abandon it!”

When it became apparent Eliza would say no more, Regina snapped open her fan with a flourish. “Hmph…With your engagement, I’d hoped that poor Rothschild girl would finally capture Montague’s attention, but you have me wondering if he’s not such a prize after all.”

“Jane Rothschild?” Eliza frowned.

“Over there.” Regina gestured to where Miss Rothschild was hovering behind a column near Montague and Jasper. “See how she stares at him, looking so forlorn? I’ve noticed her lingering in his general vicinity, as if she hopes he’ll notice her. Her behavior is sadly untoward, but exception must be made for her common origins.”

Jane was a pretty girl with soft brown hair and eyes, and a rather curvaceous figure. An air of melancholy clung to her. Perhaps it was the way her mouth turned down at the corners, or how she shifted so restlessly, as if the disquiet inside her was so great it manifested itself physically.

“Montague told me he attempted to court Miss Rothschild,” Eliza said, “but she was unreceptive.”

“I cannot believe that,” Regina scoffed. “Her parents would pay a fortune for an earldom, and her actions speak for her.”

Eliza could argue with neither point. Curious, she excused herself and moved toward the other woman. Why would Montague say Miss Rothschild was averse to his suit, when it appeared she was in fact openly seeking his regard? It was a puzzle, especially considering how dire Montague’s financial situation was reported to be and how wealthy the Rothschilds were.

As she drew closer, Montague parted from Jasper and moved toward the open doors leading to the moonlit garden. Jane prepared to follow the earl outside, but Eliza spoke out.

“Miss Rothschild. How are you this evening?”

Jane cast an almost frantic glance at Montague’s back, then faced Eliza with a weak smile. “I’m well, Miss Martin. Thank you for inquiring. Congratulations on your betrothal.”

With proximity, Eliza noted Jane’s wan complexion and the dark circles under her eyes. “Thank you. Would you care for something to drink? A lemonade, perhaps?”

“No.” Jane looked out the door again. “I’m not thirsty.”

“Miss Martin.”

Jasper’s voice drew Eliza’s attention. His gaze was blatantly inquisitive.

Jane bolted. “Excuse me, Miss Martin. I wish you a good evening.”

Eliza gaped as the woman hurried out to the garden.

Drawing abreast of her, Jasper queried, “Is everything all right?”

“I doubt it.”

He leaned over her, his proximity far too close to be seemly, but she couldn’t complain. The thrill she felt at his nearness was worth any censure.

“What do you know of your stepfather’s relations?” he asked.

“Extremely little. I avoided speaking with him whenever possible.”

Jasper’s gaze moved over her face, searching. “What was it about him you disliked so intensely?”

“You would have had to know my mother to understand. She was…erratic. Impulsive. What she needed was a firm hand, such as my father’s, but Mr. Chilcott was overly indulgent. He encouraged her wild notions and sudden changes of agenda. His enabling of her behavior led to their deaths. She decided they absolutely had to travel north to celebrate the passing of six months of marriage. She ignored warnings of muddy roads due to torrential downpours, and he didn’t have the sense or will to stay her.”

“I see.”

Eliza looked out to the rear lawn, but could no longer see Jane Rothschild or Lord Montague. The Cranmores had a heterogeneous garden featuring a hedgerow maze, a pagoda, various-sized obelisks, a recreation of a Grecian temple ruin, and a gazebo covered in climbing roses. It was an expansive outdoor space that could not be seen fully while standing in the ballroom.

“What are you looking for?” Jasper asked.

“Escort me outside.”

With one brow arched in a silent show of curiosity, he offered his arm and led her to the garden.

They reached the gravel-lined path beyond the terrace and began to stroll. There were several groups of guests enjoying the many sights, but the distance between parties was sufficient to keep the conversations private.

“What, precisely, are we doing?” he inquired.

Although she was focused on finding Jane Rothschild, Eliza was taken by Jasper’s warm tone. She glanced at him. “We’re searching for a quiet corner.”

“Are you attempting to compromise me, Miss Martin?”

“I confess, the notion is tempting. If you were of a mind to steal a few moments of my time away from prying eyes and ears, where in this garden would you go?”

He raked their surroundings with a considering glance. “Not the maze. Nor the gazebo. The temple might have promise, if you could restrain those sweet whimpers of yours that drive me to distraction.”

“You are not quiet in your pleasures either.”

“Because of you, love. Only with you.”

Her breath hitched at his endearment. Embarrassed by the depth of her reaction, she looked away…and noted footprints moving off the pathway onto the adjacent lawn. She tugged Jasper’s arm to stay him, then pointed at the ground.

His lips pursed, contemplatively.

Only two prints were visible before the rest became hidden by low-lying ferns. A large Italian alder spread its branches above them, providing a slightly shadowy cover from the moonlight.

Releasing him, Eliza looked around to be sure no one was watching, then she followed the trail by stepping deliberately into the preceding footprints. She knew Jasper was with her even though she didn’t hear him behind her. As she approached the tree, she picked out the sound of voices. One was feminine and pleading, the other masculine and biting.

Jasper caught her elbow and pulled her to the side, then urged her to crouch behind a boxwood shrub. Eliza bunched up her pale green skirts to keep the hem from becoming damp and dirty. They were on the far side of the tree from where they’d left the path. She couldn’t see the other couple from their vantage, but the sound was much improved.

“You cannot leave me in this state!” Jane cried.

“I can do anything I desire. Haven’t we already determined that?”

The identity of the speakers was clear to Eliza. When she looked at Jasper, she knew he recognized Montague’s voice, if not Jane Rothschild’s.

“You leave me no choice,” Jane said, with steel in her tone. “I shall tell my parents what you did to me at the Hammonds’ house party. They will know I carry your child.”

“Is it mine?” Montague rejoined smoothly. “I think not. You are a promiscuous piece of baggage. I’m certain I can locate others who would attest to sampling your dubious charms.”

Jasper jolted physically, eliciting Eliza’s concern. Reaching out, she set her hand atop his forearm and found it to be hard as marble. He looked stone-faced and furious, his jaw clenched so tightly the tautness of the muscles was visible. He did not, however, look the least bit as surprised as she knew she did.

“I was untouched,” Jane said with more dignity than Eliza thought she would manage under similar circumstances. “You forced this child on me. You must make this right. Your misdeed can no longer remain hidden.”

“Rape is a serious allegation, Miss Rothschild. In fact, I find it so egregious I’m considering leveling an allegation against you in response: scandalum magnatum. While antiquated, it would still serve to protect my good name. You would go to prison, Jane, for libel against a peer of the realm. Not the most hospitable accommodations for a woman who is enceinte.”

“You’re a monster. Vile and debased. Filled with the devil’s own taste for depravity and lust.”

“And you want to wed me.” Montague laughed. “What does that make you?”

“Desperate,” Jane hissed.

Eliza swayed with a rush of nausea. Jasper grabbed her elbow and stood, dragging her up with him. He propelled her away from their hiding spot and back out to the pathway, nearly running into Sir Richard Tolliver and his sister, who were strolling away from the manse.

“I say,” Tolliver muttered. “What were you doing back there, Mr. Bond?”

Jasper moved to step around the siblings. “We were momentarily lost.”

“Lost?” Tolliver snorted. “Ridiculous. Have you no care for Miss Martin’s reputation? Certainly my sister and I will be discreet, but you should-”

“Your discretion is appreciated. Excuse us.” Jasper gave a quick bow and set off toward the house, forcing Eliza into an indecorous pace to keep up.

As they fled, she glanced behind her. Tolliver was engaged in spirited debate with his sister. Chagrined to have been caught stumbling out of the bushes with Jasper, Eliza was turning her gaze forward again when a shifting shadow beneath the alder caught her eye. A chill moved through her.

Had Jane Rothschild noted their departure? Or worse, had Montague?

“Forgive the delay, Mr. Reynolds.” Eliza hurried into her study. “I wasn’t expecting you this morning.”