Pride and Pleasure

“You have been wonderful.” She wanted to say that Regina had done far better than her own mother would have, but she bit her tongue. She would never understand what the sweet, generous Lady Collingsworth had seen in the self-centered, mercurial Georgina. Whatever it was, it had inspired an abiding loyalty that persisted beyond the grave. Eliza learned long ago to voice no disparagement of her mother to Regina. To do so was to invite extensive reprimand and extolments of her mother’s worth.



“You are kind to say so.” Her ladyship smiled. “You look so like Georgina in that gown. I was taken aback upon first sight of you. For a moment, it felt almost as if time had moved backward.”



Eliza didn’t see the resemblance beyond the hue of her hair and eyes, but again, she said nothing. Then, she realized she should offer thanks for the voiced observation. Her ladyship would perceive it to be a compliment. “Thank you.”



“You are a remarkably sensible young woman,” Regina continued. “You are cautious and prefer not to leave anything to chance. But matrimony is all about taking chances. Do you know how much time Collingsworth and I spent together before he paid his addresses? If you consider only the moments we actually spoke to one another, it was no more than a handful of hours. There were parties and dinners and picnics and such, but always with others nearby impeding any chance for quiet, meaningful discourse. You speak of knowing someone well, but in truth there is very little you need to know. Does an attraction exist between you? Do you both wish to see the other happy or, at the very least, reasonably content? If you have those things, you have all you need to enjoy a comfortable marriage.”



“And what if there are things he refuses to share with me? How can there be trust, if there are aspects of one another we don’t know?”



“Are there not parts of yourself that you would rather keep private?” Regina challenged. “Things you would choose not to discuss? Of course there are. Women are entitled to their mysteries, and men are entitled to their secrets. Frankly, some secrets are painful and best left alone.”



Eliza considered this information carefully. There were indeed things she would prefer never to discuss again. It stood to reason that Jasper, too, would have memories he would like to forget. The person he was today might have been shaped by past events, but they didn’t rule him now. Why should they rule her?



“You can manage a man,” her ladyship coached, “if you pander to his pride and innate sense of self-importance. Convince him that your idea is his and he’ll follow it through. When handled correctly, marriage can be a useful enterprise.”



“The effort you describe is altogether too much work, in my opinion.” But perhaps worth the effort for a man such as Jasper Bond. Shockingly, Eliza was contemplating all the things she might have to concede if she wanted to have Jasper in her life for longer than the length of the Season.



“My dear child. You extract from life what you put into it.” Regina leaned forward. “Your coin will be of little comfort to you during chilly nights and solitary meals. I want a happier future for you. Someone to look after you. Children to love. This is a man’s world, Eliza. Whether we like it or not, there is no help for it. You think you have freedom and independence now, but marriage would grant you even greater license. And Mr. Bond appears to have means of his own, so you might have everything to gain and nothing to lose.”



The carriage rolled to a halt outside the Melville town house.



Eliza caught her ladyship’s hand and gave it an affectionate squeeze. “Thank you, Regina. You’ve given me a great deal to think about.”



“I’m available to you, if you need me.”



As Eliza climbed the steps to the front door, she recognized that a decisive shift had taken place in her world. It was as if she’d been sleeping in a moving carriage, content to move in any general direction. Now she was awakened and feeling the need to change course. Unfortunately, she had no notion of where she wanted to go. She was, however, beginning to think that wherever the destination, having Jasper with her would make the journey far more interesting.



Chapter 7



“This is the last one.” Mr. Terrance Reynolds consulted the sheaf of notes in his lap. “As I mentioned during our last meeting, Miss Martin, your newest tenant creates perfumed soaps, bath oils, and candles to order. Business is slow at present, but having purchased some of Mrs. Penning-ton’s products for my wife, I think that will soon change.”



Jasper kept his gaze on Eliza, who sat on the opposite squab. It was nearing two o’clock in the afternoon. They’d been visiting her various properties for nearly three hours now, solidifying in his mind just how wealthy Eliza was. He could easily see how someone would find the lure of her fortune overwhelming, but a suitor would have to be capable of looking beneath the surface to discover it. In her business dealings, Eliza went to great efforts to hide her gender and, therefore, her identity.



“I’ll pay a visit to this store,” she said, looking out the window of Jasper’s unmarked, enclosed town carriage. “It will be interesting to see the scent the proprietress chooses to create for me.”



Jasper wanted to tell Eliza that he liked the way she smelled already, but could not with Mr. Reynolds present. In addition to the safety considerations that prompted today’s excursion, the exercise also brought to light how much he enjoyed talking with Eliza and listening to her view of situations. He missed being able to speak with her freely, but felt it best to keep the arrangement between himself and Eliza private. To Mr. Reynolds’ knowledge, Jasper was a friend of Melville’s and a possible investor in Eliza’s proposed plan to modernize the amenities in a few of her older properties.



“How close are we to the store?” Jasper asked.



“A few blocks,” Reynolds replied. “We’re almost there.”



Rapping on the roof, Jasper signaled for his driver to stop. “I’ll walk from here. That will give us a sufficient length of time between Miss Martin’s arrival and mine so it doesn’t appear as if we came together.”



An odd look crossed Eliza’s features before she nodded. He made a note to ask her later what prompted it. Alighting from the carriage, he accepted the cane she passed to him through the open door.



“Pink and white striped awning,” Reynolds advised.



“Thank you.” Jasper saluted Eliza with a quick touch to the brim of his hat, then he set off.



Today, he’d learned more than just how wealthy she was. Though neither Eliza nor Mr. Reynolds said so outright, Jasper noted that she leased her properties predominantly to women. He expected his investigation would prove her tenants to be mostly spinsters and widows. It was an honorable endeavor, and he admired her for undertaking it. However, the practice made it less likely that one of her tenants was to blame for her recent troubles. She would engender gratitude before malice. He would need to cast his net wider to include those whose rental applications had been denied. Meanwhile, every day that passed without a stronger lead aggravated him more. The work itself was not an issue. It was the threat to Eliza’s safety that made Jasper dread every moment she was out of his sight.



In short order, he spotted the cheery awning and his waiting carriage nearby. This time, it was Reynolds who remained out of view while Eliza entered the store. One of the most important lessons Lynd had taught Jasper was to surround himself with trustworthy staff and to pay them well enough to keep them happy. Better to have two people you trust with your life, than a dozen you can’t vouch for. Eliza appeared to have the same sensibility. Terrance Reynolds was paid handsomely. That fact was made obvious by the quality of his attire and his accessories, from his gold pocket watch to his leather satchel. In return, the man seemed genuinely fond of Eliza and intent on serving her interests well.



As Jasper entered the store, the bell above the door jingled to herald his arrival. The interior of the shop was perfectly sized for an establishment catering to the sense of smell. The air was fragrant without being overpowering. A variety of cloth-covered round tables were placed at set intervals around the room, displaying wares in colorful groupings.



He removed his hat.



“Good afternoon, sir.”



Jasper found the speaker to his left, arranging items on a tabletop in front of Eliza. The shopkeeper was young and beautiful, blond and blue-eyed. As shapely as a prized courtesan, but with the face of an angel. He bowed in greeting, then shifted his attention to Eliza. The hue of her hair made her initially more arresting to the eye than the paler tresses of the proprietress, but she lacked the fullness of curves and classic beauty of the other. That didn’t alter the fact that he found Eliza to be far more pleasing to look upon. From the first, she’d called to him on a physical level. There was raw magnetism between them, unique in its form. Bedding her would not be about the appeasement of his hunger, but a celebration of it. He’d never felt that for anyone else. With her it was the journey to be savored, not the destination.



“Miss Martin,” he drawled. “Fancy meeting you here. It’s a lovely day, wouldn’t you agree?”



“I would indeed, Mr. Bond.” Her eyes sparkled with genuine pleasure. The manner in which she looked at him always stirred him. She lacked the artifice to hide how much she enjoyed his appearance.



Jasper couldn’t look away.



Eliza blushed when he continued to stare. She caught her lower lip between her teeth and a wash of heat swept over him.



He could arouse her with a glance. Did she know what that did to him?



“Is there something in particular I can help you find?” the blonde asked, excusing herself from Eliza. She wiped her hands on the apron tied around her waist, then gestured at the goods around them. “Floral or fruity? Musky or spicy? If you tell me the age and gender of the person you’re shopping for, I can help you find just the thing. Or I can create something unique.”



“What would you suggest for a young woman of discriminating taste, high intelligence, and deep passions? Nothing ordinary or expected, please. She is neither.”



“Is she a wife or a lover?”



He considered the inquiry a moment, both the boldness of the question and his possible answer.



“It’s best if I ask,” she explained, glancing back at Eliza. “Providing you with the best possible product will ensure both your future business and your referral, and I need one as much as the other.”



“How can I argue with that, Miss…?”



“Mrs. Pennington.” In close proximity, she appeared to be no older than Eliza.



“Why don’t I look around,” he suggested, “while you assist Miss Martin?”



Once again, Mrs. Pennington looked over her shoulder. “She’s selecting a half dozen of her favorite scented oils, which is what I would like you to do.”



“I will start with the same offerings, then.”



Mrs. Pennington gestured toward the back of the store. Jasper followed her prompting. As she opened up free space on a table, she continued to cast furtive glances at Eliza. Perhaps she feared thievery?



He held back and remained silent, not wanting to distract her from finishing her task as soon as possible. When she straightened, he listened to her instructions and assured her that he could whittle down the choices without further help.



When she left him, he watched her return to the front of the store and waited to see if she would eye him as often as she had Eliza. She did not. But Eliza did.



He’d never known it could be so arousing to be ogled. He supposed it was because he had never been ogled by the right person.



Once Eliza was home again, she stripped off her gloves in the foyer, then looked at the post lying on a silver salver atop the console table. She set aside the few letters for Melville that appeared to be of a personal nature and collected the rest, intent on taking them up to her room. She wanted nothing so much as something to eat and a cup of tea.



She was halfway up the stairs when Melville called her name from below. Turning on the step, she smiled at him. “Yes, my lord?”



“Could I have a moment of your time?” he queried, frowning while trying to straighten his crooked waistcoat.



“Of course.” As she descended, her gaze met the butler’s. “Could you ask Mrs. Potts to bring tea to his lordship’s laboratory?”



The servant’s tall and lean frame moved quickly out of range of her sight.



Eliza followed Melville around the base of the staircase and collected his mail at the console. They passed her study door, then turned to the right at the end of the parquet-lined hallway. The room where his lordship spent much of his time was there. She made a chastising clicking noise with her tongue when she found the drapes drawn tight. A copious number of candles were scattered around the room, offering plenty of light…and smoke.



“It’s a glorious day outside,” she chastised, dropping the day’s post onto one of the long, slender laboratory tables before moving briskly over to the windows. She drew the drapes aside, then systematically unlocked each of the windows lining the length of the wall and pushed up the sashes.



“Too bright,” his lordship groused, blinking like an owl.



“You need sunlight. We humans don’t thrive in dark places as mushrooms are wont to do.”



“Mushrooms!” He snapped his fingers. “Brilliant, Eliza.”



Melville quickly rounded his desk and began writing.



She pulled out one of the wooden stools that butted against a table bearing various-sized glass tubes and bottles. Waiting patiently, she blew out nearby candles that were unnecessary now that sunlight illuminated the large, disorganized space. The multitude of colorful liquids in jars cast jeweled beams of light onto the floor. In that moment, it was possible to see how Melville could become entranced by the mysteries he researched.



When Mrs. Potts bustled in with tea service on a tray, the intrusion seemed to snap his lordship into a renewed awareness of his location and his visitor.