Chapter Three

      Jane trudged upstairs after a tense and uncomfortable dinner. Philip’s anger had vanished, but there’d been no mistaking his weariness over her behaviour and his constant need to correct it. If her niece and nephews hadn’t chattered throughout the entire meal, masking the adults’ silence, she would have been able to hear herself chew.

      The lively conversation she used to enjoy at meals before Mrs Townsend had left to marry Dr Hale no longer existed. Instead, all discussion seemed to focus on Thomas, Natalie and William’s lessons or antics. Jane loved her niece and nephews, but she missed Laura’s mother and the long hours they used to spend discussing the latest gossip or news. Mrs Townsend, or Mrs Hale as she was now, might not be far away, but Dr Hale’s busy medical practice commanded her time, leaving her little freedom to linger over tea with Jane.

      She stopped at the top of the stairs, wishing she could speak with Mrs Townsend the way she used to, especially to discuss Jasper’s unexpected kiss. She had no idea what to make of it, or how to stop thinking about it. With one finger she traced the curve of the polished wood banister. The potent memory of his tongue caressing hers made her heart skip a beat and his silence all the more irritating. He hadn’t rushed to answer her note.

      I should’ve listened to Philip and simply sold Jasper the building. Her plan had only succeeded in making her appear like a desperate fool. How many times did Jasper have to tell her he wanted nothing more from her than friendship before she’d listen?

      Friendship was the only thing I was offering. He was the one who wanted more. And she should have pushed him away and upbraided him for his forwardness and salvaged something of her pride. If she hadn’t enjoyed the kiss so much she would have.

      I can’t believe I was so weak. She slapped the top of the rail and strode down the hall to her room. Inside, with the door closed, she undid the front flap of her dress and shrugged out of the garment. Laying it aside, she breathed deeply against the soft boning of her stays and made her way to the washstand. She poured some water into the bowl, dipped her hands in and was about to splash her face when her eyes met Jasper’s.

      ‘Good evening, Jane.’

      She jumped back with a stifled yelp, sending the water in her hands spilling down over her neck and chest, and rolling under her stays. The cold liquid made the fabric of her garments stick to her skin. ‘How did you get in here?’

      Jasper stepped out of the shadow between the washstand and the armoire, took the towel from the rail and handed it to her. ‘The way you taught me to when we were children.’

      Except Jasper was no longer a boy; he was a man, as his semi-nakedness had proven today. She snatched the linen out of his outstretched hand, careful not to brush against him. He dropped down on the bench at the foot of her bed and watched her dry her face. Together with Milton, they had spent many nights huddled there, whispering their plots for surprising the housekeeper with frogs and getting a peek at the shops, at least until the day the adults had made it clear there were to be no more night-time games between them.

      ‘Is there some reason you decided to sneak past Philip’s men to come see me?’ She should speak to Philip about his men failing to guard the house, but she was more flattered than perturbed. Milton had never been so bold.

      ‘Yes, I received your note.’

      Jane twisted the towel between her hands. ‘And?’

      He shook his head. ‘You have to give up on the idea of us, Jane.’

      She tossed the damp towel on the washstand. ‘As you did when I was thirteen and I told you I’d wait for you?’

      ‘This isn’t a child’s game.’

      ‘Then why bother with all these theatrics? Send a note and be done with the matter.’

      ‘I can’t.’ Jasper came to stand over her. He smelled of night-air-dampened wool with a hint of spicy snuff. It was a heady mixture which enticed her to draw up on her toes and inhale, but she kept her feet firmly on the floor. If she was going to be rejected, again, it wouldn’t be while sniffing him. ‘I know you, Jane. Once you decide on something it’s difficult to talk you out of it, but I must.’

      She took a step back, ready to tease him with some of the same heat he’d tried to singe her with today. He wasn’t the only one who could play the game of wiles. ‘Are you sure that’s the only reason you’re here?’

      He slid his gaze down to her chemise and the tight breasts beneath it. She wasn’t sure what he could see through the wet cotton, but she hoped it was a great deal and made him at least regret his rejecting her. He took his time admiring her and she shifted on her feet, trying to ease the tension creeping through her. She was seized by the desire to fall on him and do all the things she’d imagined while she’d stared at his half-naked body in his room. There was no Philip to stop her. If Jasper took her in his arms and fulfilled the offer in the press of his lips against hers this afternoon, she wouldn’t put up much of a resistance.

      The low rumble of a suppressed laugh rippled out of his throat. ‘You think you know something of the world and men, but you don’t.’

      She raised her chin in defiance. ‘I know enough.’

      He leaned back against the bedpost and pinned her with the same wicked smile as he had right before he’d kissed her, his confidence as annoying as it was seductive. ‘You don’t know anything. Not about me or about life.’

      He was right and it chafed as much as the wet chemise sticking to her stomach. She’d seen nothing of the world and, except for this afternoon and a rather dull few minutes in the dark part of the garden with Milton, she had very little experience with men. ‘You think you’re the one to teach me?’

      ‘Yes, and I’ll prove it.’ He slid her dress off the chair where she’d tossed it and held it out to her. ‘I’m going to show you something no one else in London knows about me.’

      She tilted her head at him, puzzled by his sudden seriousness. Whatever he had planned clearly didn’t involve more of his naked body against hers. Too bad. ‘You have the French pox?’

      He jerked back. ‘No!’

      Well, at least this finally struck a blow. ‘Then simply have out with it and save us both the bother.’

      He shook the dress at her. ‘It’s better if you see it.’

      ‘I can’t. If I sneak out with you and Philip discovers me gone, he’ll commit me to a convent.’ She’d wounded her brother enough today with her silly scheme. She didn’t want to worry him if he came in and found her gone.

      ‘You have to be Catholic to become a nun.’

      ‘Not with Philip’s contacts.’ Her brother knew someone everywhere and could always get exactly what he wanted when he wanted it. She wished she were so abundantly influential.

      ‘Well, before you’re cloistered, come with me. You’ll understand why we can’t marry after you see it and how the fault is with me, not you.’

      The pain edging his entreaty made her heart ache. She wanted to pull him out of his darkness, not because she was plotting to ensnare his hand, but because she didn’t want her old friend to suffer alone the way she did. ‘I don’t care about your faults.’