Pride and Pleasure

“Ah…I failed to collect that elusive bluestockings were to your taste.”

“Paying clients are always to my taste.”

“Interesting.” Westfield’s brows rose. “Why does Miss Martin require your services?”

Jasper spurred his horse into motion. The earl followed suit.

“What do you know of her and her kin?” Jasper asked.

“The Tremaine brood is unquestionably an odd lot, which makes them fiendishly easy to gossip about. The males are known to be brilliant to the point of madness, and the females are blessed with that stunningly beautiful shade of hair. Miss Martin seems to have inherited a bit of both traits in addition to her sizeable fortune. As for her parents, Mr. Martin was a man of trade and Lady Georgina was known to be charming and vivacious. Although Miss Martin seems as indifferent to men as her mother was appreciative, I’ve wondered if a deeper resemblance between them is simply untapped. Intriguing to contemplate.”

“Are you saying her mother was indiscriminate?”

“Lady Georgina was known to have a fondness for the social company of men. Does that mean she took many to her bed?” Westfield shrugged. “I cannot say. However, she married Martin immediately following her presentation. She would have had her pick of peers, but instead jumped into matrimony with a commoner. Why, unless it was a love match? And if it was a love match, I doubt she would stray.”

“What do you know of Mr. Martin?”

“I know his death was shocking to many. He was said to have a vigorous constitution. He was built like a laborer and often pitched in as one when the opportunity presented itself. A servant found him dead in his office when he failed to appear for supper. A weak heart was blamed.”

Jasper decided he would have to dig further back, before Eliza’s present-day suitors, to see if the trouble plaguing her had begun long before now.

Westfield inclined his head at a passing acquaintance. “Many have speculated that the vagaries of the family he married into might have hastened him to his grave. His due, so to speak, for his lofty marital aspirations. After his passing, Lady Georgina married again, to another commoner.”

A woman of high passions and a lack of prejudice. Did Eliza carry those inclinations? How delicious if she did…

Jasper shook off the tangential thought. “Miss Martin has a stepfather?”

“Had. Lady Georgina and Mr. Chilcott were killed together in a carriage accident before Miss Martin’s first Season. The poor girl has been sorely afflicted with tragedy.”

Did she grieve? Jasper wondered. Had she always been so detached from others or was that a recently acquired safety mechanism?

“Now tell me,” the earl said, “what has Miss Martin engaged you to do?”

“She has cause to fear for her safety.”

Westfield’s brows rose. “Truly? Who would want to injure her? She’s worth more alive than dead.”

“She believes someone-perhaps an overzealous suitor- is trying to goad her into marriage as a means of protecting herself. I haven’t yet decided if she’s correct, but hearing about her parents’ untimely demise only incites further concern.”

“How diverting,” the earl said. “Can I assist you in any way?”

“I was hoping you would ask.” Jasper reached into his pocket and withdrew the small book containing Eliza’s social calendar. It was an unavoidable fact that there were some doors he needed a peer to open. “I must attend as many of these functions as possible.”

The earl flipped through the small bound pages with one hand. “I see I will have to refrain from arranging a liaison tomorrow evening, so I can squire you about.”

“I appreciate your sacrifice,” Jasper drawled.

“I should hope so.” Westfield’s tone was droll. In truth, he enjoyed participating in Jasper’s work when the circumstances allowed. He was even known to become somewhat of a pest, if Jasper went too long without enlisting him for some task or another. “See you at ten?”

“Perfect.”

Eliza had just pulled on a dressing gown and settled in front of her vanity mirror when a knock came to her boudoir door. When bade to enter, a white-capped maid stepped in and curtsied. “His lordship asks for you, miss.”

“Thank you.”

Frowning, Eliza watched the servant back out of the room. She’d enjoyed tea with her uncle just an hour before, listening fondly as he spoke at length and with great animation about his latest botanical experiments. Once, their solarium had been filled with comfortable chaises and short bookcases. Now, it housed rows of long tables supporting various potted plants. Eliza didn’t mind the loss of her former favorite reading spot, appreciating how the experiments in the glass space exposed his lordship to sunlight and fresh air.

What would cause him to ask for her now, at an hour when she was beginning preparations for the evening’s social events? Perhaps he had an epiphany of some sort or something of a celebratory nature to share? He once woke her before sunrise because a splicing experiment yielded unexpectedly delightful results.

She stood and pulled a comfortable house gown out of the wardrobe. Then she called for her abigail, Mary, who entered the room from the bathing chamber and assisted Eliza in securing the row of buttons following the length of her spine. Despite skipping her chemise and stays, it took long moments to become presentable. Eliza tied a quick ribbon around her unbound hair and considered herself ready enough.

“What will you wear tonight?” Mary asked.

“Lay out three of your favorites.” Eliza opened the door to the gallery. “I’ll pick one when I return.”

She often left the selection of clothing to her abigail. It didn’t matter what Mary chose-Eliza always picked the gown on the farthest right. Her dresses were all impeccable, if unremarkable, having been created by a seamstress who was in high demand for her skill. The modiste had originally protested Eliza’s selection of colors that, while fashionable, did little to emphasize the hue of her hair. But eventually the hopelessness of the objections became patently clear, and Eliza was spared from hearing them. She felt it was only fair to avoid giving anyone the notion she was attempting to entice or set a lure. Since the most popular shades were pastels and she looked best in darker colors, there was no excuse for her to dress with self-flattery in mind.

She left the room and headed directly to the family parlor on the same floor. The door was ajar. A fire crackled merrily in the grate, and his lordship paced before it in his usual state of dishabille-mussed hair, lopsided cravat, and unevenly buttoned waistcoat sans coat.

Eliza entered with a brisk stride. “My lord?”

He faced her with a distracted smile. “I’m sorry to disturb you, my dear, but you have a visitor.”

She glanced down at her hastily composed presentation. “A visitor? Downstairs?”

“Good evening, Miss Martin.”

Jasper’s voice. A shiver coursed down her spine at the sound. Pivoting, she found him standing behind the door. His gaze was narrowed, his face austere. He was dressed in the same riding garments he had been wearing when she’d seen him in the park, but his cravat was less crisp and the outside of his boots bore traces of scuffing.

As they did every time she saw him, her thoughts skidded to a halt. It took her the length of several heartbeats to remember to speak.

There was no hiding the way her breath hitched when she greeted him. “Mr. Bond.”

Chapter 4

“Behave yourself as promised, young man,” Melville said, before hurrying from the room. Clearly, he was eager to return to whatever he’d been doing before being interrupted. The door was left open, but Eliza doubted such measures would impede a man like Jasper if he was of a mind to act scandalously.

“You have my word, my lord,” Jasper said softly.

There was a pregnant pause after the earl departed. Jasper raked her with a heated gaze, from top to toe and back again. Then he averted his head, exposing a clenched jaw and rapid pulse. Eliza realized he was aware she’d