Historical Romance May 2017 Books 1 - 4. Bronwyn Scott
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become like him. He’d thought to pull himself out of his old life by his own bootstraps. Maybe it was a more feminine hand he needed for the final steps.
He took the key ring out of his pocket and swung it on one finger, imagining the two of them working together and rising in prominence like her brother, or wielding the kind of influence his father enjoyed. It would be like his first few years in Savannah when he used to mingle with influential men or host parties in his Franklin Square house. For a time tonight, with her, he’d been free to be his old self and not have to lie. It was the life he’d imagined when he’d gone to the auction, the one he’d thought he’d lost until Jane had appeared and made him realise it could still be his.
He clutched the keys in his palm, stilling their spinning. It was one thing for Jane to know about his hell, it was another for her to be involved in it. He couldn’t corrupt her the way his uncle had corrupted him or risk leaving her to wrestle with even a small measure of the guilt and blame he endured because of the affair with Mr Robillard. Except it wasn’t a part of the hell she wanted, it was a part of him and his club. He could give her the club, and himself, and keep back the hell and the ugliness of Savannah. She needn’t be involved in the tempting of players, but she could share in the freedom it offered to enjoy the finer aspects of London, the ones denied to her by her current situation. She’d come to him with a proposal for a partnership, to help him build a reputable professional life with the added benefit of more enticing nocturnal pursuits. It was an opportunity he could no longer resist. His time with her had always been an adventure. It would be again.
‘Miss Rathbone, good morning,’ young Chester Stilton greeted Jane as she came downstairs for breakfast. Despite having been up most of the night, she’d awakened at her usual time just after sunrise. Force of habit was stronger than fatigue.
‘Mr Stilton, it’s a pleasure to see you here so early.’ It wasn’t, but she had to be polite to Philip’s clients. After the last day and night, she’d had her fill of young men and was in no mood to entertain any more. All she wanted was to continue on to the dining room and the large pot of coffee sure to be waiting there.
‘I certainly didn’t ask to come at this ungodly hour, but my father insisted.’ Mr Stilton’s thin upper lip pulled back in displeasure, revealing teeth as yellow as a wheel of cheese. Rumour was he rarely rose before noon, long after his industrious, and poorly named, cheesemonger of a father had gone to work to support his family and pay off his wastrel son’s large tailor bill. She wondered how long it would be until Chester Stilton began to seek loans to support his spending habits, assuming he hadn’t already done so to maintain his supply of the gaudily striped waistcoats, white hats and bright blue coats. ‘My father is here to pay off the loan your brother extended him last year. He wanted me to join in the discussion and learn a little something about money, as if I should take lesson like that from a man like your brother.’
Jane stiffened. ‘With all the credit the tailor extends you, one would think you possessed ample experience handling money, and debts. How proud your father must be of your ability to spend his hard-earned money on your clothes.’
‘As proud as your brother must be of paying his spinster sister’s milliner bills. You couldn’t even land staid Milton Charton of all people.’
‘I’m holding out for better prospects than the limited ones before me.’ How dare a man whose waistcoats were of more use to his father than he was pass judgement on her or Philip’s worth. She made a motion to leave, but he stepped in front of her.
‘As much as I don’t care for your brother or his moneylending ilk, for the right price I’d gladly take you off his hands.’ He swept her with a lascivious gaze which would have made a lesser woman blush.
She didn’t so much as twitch, but stared him down the way she would a slug crawling on one of the rose bushes. ‘What an honour to be added to the long list of other wealthy women in the Fleet who’ve spurned you.’
His lip dropped down to cover his yellow teeth. Before he could answer with what she imagined would be a less than witty response, the door to Philip’s office opened and the elder Mr Stilton, sharing his son’s long face and displaced front tooth, emerged smiling from inside. ‘Thankfully the better sort are hungering for my particular brand of cheddar, otherwise I don’t know where we’d be. Thank you again for your assistance, Mr Rathbone.’
Mr Stilton grabbed Philip’s hand and shook it vigorously before coming down the hallway to stand beside his son. ‘Miss Rathbone, how wonderful to see you this morning. I hope my son wasn’t being too cheeky with you, although if he was I wouldn’t mind. Chester, you couldn’t do better than to have an interest in Miss Rathbone. The girl is as sensible as she is pretty. What do you say, Miss Rathbone, any interest in my boy?’ He clapped Chester on the back, failing to notice the chill between Jane and his son.
From over the elder Mr Stilton’s shoulder Philip shook his head ever so slightly. Jane hardly needed the warning. Chester might feel he’d finally hit the bottom of the matrimonial barrel, but she wasn’t so desperate, yet.
‘Thank you for your kind offer, Mr Stilton, but I’m afraid my interests lie elsewhere.’
‘More’s the pity.’ Mr Stilton shook his head, then turned to Philip.
Jane didn’t hear what he said as she strode off to the dining room, doing her best to appear dignified. Once out of view, she stormed inside and up to the sideboard, immediately garnering Laura’s attention.
‘Jane, what’s wrong?’
‘Nothing, except for the yellow-toothed wastrel of a cheesemonger who decided to insult me this morning.’ She scooped out a hearty helping of eggs and smacked them down on her plate, wishing the china was Chester’s face and the spoon something more substantial. Jane marched to her place at the table beside Laura and tossed down her plate, causing some of the egg to spill over the side and on to the polished surface. She dropped into the chair the footman held out, her one comfort being the cup of black coffee he set beside her plate. She stared at the dark liquid, wondering if she could slip some brandy into it without anyone noticing. It would take the edge off her anger and the disappointment in herself.
There’d been a grain of truth in Chester’s insult. She was a spinster and time was not improving her situation or her prospects. When she’d held Jasper’s hand last night, she’d wondered if her fate was about to change, but it hadn’t. Despite his insistence, and her gut feeling, a morning like this one made it hard for her to believe the fault was with Jasper and not her.
‘Don’t let him get to you.’ Laura laid a calming hand on Jane’s arm. ‘You’re a wonderful young lady and some day the right man will come for you. You’ll see.’
‘When?’ Jane demanded, poking the eggs with her fork.
‘I don’t know, but we’ll put our minds to it and find you someone, or at the very least, something to entertain you. Perhaps you could stay with my mother for a while? She might introduce you to some of the new surgeons Dr Hale is training.’
‘You mean men who haven’t heard about my being thrown over?’ She shouldn’t be sulky with Laura. It wasn’t her sister-in-law’s fault she was on the shelf. If she weren’t so bold with her opinions and insistent on having her way, she might not be in this situation. She could only imagine how many young men who’d been trounced by her during debates on stocks must be gloating at this comeuppance.
‘That’s not what I mean,’ Laura clarified, more understanding than annoyed. ‘But you could help her. It might take your mind off—’
Thomas, William and Natalie came barrelling into the room, talking at the tops of their voices. Judging by the dirt on Natalie’s dress and the dust on the boys’ shoes they’d been playing in the garden.
‘Mama, Mama, Thomas pulled Natalie’s pigtails,’ William, the youngest boy, lisped over the noise