“You are completely inappropriate for her,” the earl went on.
“Agreed.”
Jasper looked for Eliza and found her. She appeared composed, if slightly irritated. The frown marring her brow betrayed both her peevishness and bemusement. He smiled, appreciating her artless honesty.
“She would be better served with me,” Westfield said. “How can any woman live the life you do, Bond?”
“I expect Miss Martin and I will discover the answer as time progresses.”
Westfield stepped forward, then turned to face him, effectively taking up the entirety of his view. “Is there anything you will not do in your quest to ruin Montague?”
“This has nothing to do with Montague.”
“Of course it does.”
“On the periphery,” Jasper conceded, sidestepping to resume his viewing of Eliza.
“Wait.” The earl moved in front of him again. “Were you talking about her last night? That nonsense about wanting something badly?”
“Yes.” He wanted her now. Eliza had worn another of her mother’s gowns, this one in a lovely rose hue. It was as simple in cut as the sapphire gown she’d worn days ago, but the bodice was provocatively low and the waist perfectly snug. The slender beauty of her figure was a joy to behold.
“Bloody hell.” Westfield looked over his shoulder at Eliza. “Do you love her?”
“I enjoy her, and I can make her happy.”
“I doubt you can. Not for the long term. And how does enjoyment signify? I enjoy half a dozen women any given fortnight, yet you don’t see me proposing to any of them.”
“Therein lies the difference between us,” Jasper drawled. “There are very few things I’ve enjoyed in my life, and none to the degree with which I enjoy Miss Martin’s company.”
“Now, you have me intrigued,” Westfield complained. “I’ll forever be wondering what I missed about Miss Martin.”
“No, you will not. You’ll forget about her in any other capacity than as my wife, and that will be the end of it.”
“Hmm…” Westfield turned around, searching. “I have yet to see Montague. I should like to know how he’s taking the news of your engagement.”
Jasper didn’t care what Montague thought.
The moment the realization hit, his spine straightened and his breath hissed out between his teeth. Shifting his position, he canted his body away from Eliza, his hands flexing at his sides. Soon, he would be able to put Montague behind him, but not now. Not yet. The earl had still to pay for his sins and the sins of his father.
Eliza. She made him forget himself, which was one of the reasons why he needed her. But she couldn’t serve that purpose now. Not yet. His plan was in the final stages after years of frustrated waiting and endless hours of work.
“Mr. Bond.”
Turning his head, Jasper watched as Sir Richard Tolliver approached. Although Jasper had believed Tolliver couldn’t be any thinner, it appeared he was tonight. His dark coat hung loosely on his shoulders and his modestly embroidered waistcoat gaped a little just above the top button. “Good evening, Sir Richard.”
“I hear congratulations are in order,” Tolliver said, looking far from congratulatory.
“They are. Thank you.”
“How fortuitous that Miss Martin should decide to marry so soon after you returned to her life. Almost as if she were waiting for you these last few years.”
“Poetic,” Westfield drawled. “Perhaps if you’d shared your talent for romantic thought and turns of phrase with Miss Martin, you might have had more luck with her.”
“What talent did you share?” Tolliver shot back, glaring at Jasper.
“Be very careful when maligning me,” Jasper warned softly. “Should you inadvertently cast aspersions on Miss Martin’s character, I assure you, I won’t take it well.”
Tolliver’s foot tapped against the floor. “Your long familial friendship with the Tremaines makes it decidedly odd that Miss Martin can share little about you.”
“Cannot? Or will not?” Jasper challenged. “She understands the value of privacy. It’s one of the many qualities she and I have in common. Now, cease being a nuisance. Go find a new heiress to woo.”
Tolliver remained in place for a long moment. Finally, he spoke between clenched teeth, “Good evening, Mr. Bond. And to you as well, my lord.” He turned about and stalked away.
“You’re making friends already,” Westfield said, staring after Tolliver. “I have to say, I never guessed he had such forcefulness in him. Perhaps his feelings for Miss Martin were true after all.”
“Nothing so sublime.” Jasper rolled his shoulders back. This was what he’d wanted—to attract the attention of whoever was endangering Eliza. But he hadn’t anticipated the feeling of jealousy. Tolliver had roused his proprietary instincts and his discomfort was certain to worsen as time progressed.
The sound of Montague’s name being bandied around them drew Jasper’s attention toward the farthest entrance. “He came,” he murmured. “I’d begun to doubt he would.”
“Look at this place.” Westfield gestured with a jerk of his chin. “Lady Valmont hasn’t enjoyed a gathering of this size in many years. The curious come en masse to see Miss Martin’s transformation and the man responsible for it. She changed her appearance for you, did she not?”
“She did it for the investigation. At first.” Jasper gave himself permission to look at her again. He was torn between his two goals—winning Eliza’s hand and staying focused on his vengeance. “Tonight, I think she did it for me.”
“So she was being truthful when she said she had feelings for you?” Westfield snorted. “What in God’s name does she see in you?”
“I wish I knew. I would show her more of it.”
Montague’s progress through the room was marked by a noticeable ripple in the throng. He was heading toward Eliza, who stood on the opposite side of the room.
Jasper started in that direction. Westfield fell in line. They worked their way through the crowd, their path repeatedly blocked by one inquisitive well-wisher after another.
“Is your marriage a sign that Montague’s destruction is now assured?” the earl asked.
“Not yet. I have learned he’s forming a pool of investors for a coal mine speculation.” Jasper grabbed a glass of lemonade from the tray of a passing footman.
“Is that what shored up his confidence about his finances and prompted him to contact me about retrieving his marker?”
“I hope to know the answer tomorrow. Either he’s falling deeper into ruin or digging himself out of it.”
Westfield grabbed his elbow and pulled him to a halt. “Bond.”
Jasper’s brows rose in silent inquiry.
“Have you considered embracing your new life with Miss Martin and leaving Montague’s future to fate? In my experience, deserving fellows have a way of finding their own sorry end.”
“I am Montague’s end,” Jasper said, before tossing back the contents of his glass. He started forward again, lamenting the beverage’s inability to make the scrutiny directed his way more tolerable.