“Only if you mean to make a success of it. By your accounts, the Chilcotts aren’t ones to work for their keep.”
Jasper waited for Peter Crouch to return from checking the rear exterior staircase leading to the domicile on the second floor. When the young man appeared, he was shaking his head.
“Damn and blast,” Jasper muttered. “I cannot wait for Miss Chilcott to return. I’m to meet Montague at Remington’s in an hour to discuss his idiotic mining speculation.”
Westfield looked at him. “Despite an imminent wedding and the nefarious Miss Chilcott, you still won’t allow Montague to meet his own fate? You know as well as I he’s destined to destroy himself.”
“He and his family owe me far better than that. I want his destruction to come by
The earl sighed and turned away from the building. “I’ll accompany you to Remington’s, then part ways with you for the evening. With the announcement of Miss Martin’s engagement to you, you won’t be needing me to gain entry to anyplace you choose to go. I, however, am in dire need of a strong drink and a soft woman. Or two.”
“Easy on the drink,” Jasper said, walking back to his horse.
“And ride hard on the woman? Excellent idea.”
Neither man could see the eavesdropper in the room above them. She sat on the floor beneath the barely raised sash and listened to the masculine voices drifting up to her. A smile curved her lovely lips. With a rapacious gleam in her blue eyes, she began to plan…
It was difficult for Eliza to refrain from fidgeting when she knew she was to be married the next day. However, the Cranmores’ ballroom was not the place to appear anxious.
A few years had passed since she’d last been invited to a Cranmore event. Lady Cranmore was a consummate hostess whose entertainment innovations were often copied, and her expertise was widely evident tonight. Tulle and ivy wrapped Ionic columns. Harp players filled every corner with music when the orchestra was quiet. Outside, the rear lawn was dotted with dramatically blazing torches. The result was one of Grecian decadence, and everyone in attendance appeared to be in high spirits.
Eliza, however, was feeling high-strung. She was filled with a mixture of exhilaration and apprehension such as she’d never known. Tomorrow, she would be wed. After so many years of making certain she did nothing as her mother would have, she was no longer allowing Georgina to rule her actions from the grave. Which made every aspect of the coming day momentous.
“I am so pleased,” Lady Collingsworth said, looking at Eliza with bright eyes. “I must confess, when you told me you would be married tomorrow, I doubted I could do justice to the occasion with such short notice.”
Personally, Eliza thought nothing more than family and close friends were necessary, but she guessed that saying so would only disappoint and hurt Regina. “Thank you,” she said instead. “You’re too kind to me.”
“Stuff.” Regina waved one gloved hand carelessly. “I had given up on your ever marrying. I’m so very happy you found someone precious to you after all.”
“Precious,” Eliza repeated, her head turning to find Jasper. He stood on the edge of the ballroom speaking with Montague. She’d previously taken note of Westfield’s absence.
“You are full of surprises lately,” Regina murmured. “To think…Secret proposals from
“Yes.”
“Lord Montague is being laudably gracious. Look at him speaking so civilly with your betrothed. And what a pair they make. From this distance, one could almost imagine them as brothers.”
“My understanding is that the similarities between the two exist only on the exterior.”
Regina leaned closer. “Your tone is intriguing.”
Eliza lowered her voice to a whisper. “Have you ever heard anything of a worrisome nature about Lord Montague?”
“Such as?”
“Never mind. There are some things it’s best not to know.”
“You cannot initiate such a topic, only to abandon it!”
When it became apparent Eliza would say no more, Regina snapped open her fan with a flourish. “Hmph…With your engagement, I’d hoped that poor Rothschild girl would finally capture Montague’s attention, but you have me wondering if he’s not such a prize after all.”
“Jane Rothschild?” Eliza frowned.
“Over there.” Regina gestured to where Miss Rothschild was hovering behind a column near Montague and Jasper. “See how she stares at him, looking so forlorn? I’ve noticed her lingering in his general vicinity, as if she hopes he’ll notice her. Her behavior is sadly untoward, but exception must be made for her common origins.”
Jane was a pretty girl with soft brown hair and eyes, and a rather curvaceous figure. An air of melancholy clung to her. Perhaps it was the way her mouth turned down at the corners, or how she shifted so restlessly, as if the disquiet inside her was so great it manifested itself physically.
“Montague told me he attempted to court Miss Rothschild,” Eliza said, “but she was unreceptive.”
“I cannot believe that,” Regina scoffed. “Her parents would pay a fortune for an earldom, and her actions speak for her.”
Eliza could argue with neither point. Curious, she excused herself and moved toward the other woman. Why would Montague say Miss Rothschild was averse to his suit, when it appeared she was in fact openly seeking his regard? It was a puzzle, especially considering how dire Montague’s financial situation was reported to be and how wealthy the Rothschilds were.
As she drew closer, Montague parted from Jasper and moved toward the open doors leading to the moonlit garden. Jane prepared to follow the earl outside, but Eliza spoke out.
“Miss Rothschild. How are you this evening?”
Jane cast an almost frantic glance at Montague’s back, then faced Eliza with a weak smile. “I’m well, Miss Martin. Thank you for inquiring. Congratulations on your betrothal.”
With proximity, Eliza noted Jane’s wan complexion and the dark circles under her eyes. “Thank you. Would you care for something to drink? A lemonade, perhaps?”
“No.” Jane looked out the door again. “I’m not thirsty.”
Jasper’s voice drew Eliza’s attention. His gaze was blatantly inquisitive.
Jane bolted. “Excuse me, Miss Martin. I wish you a good evening.”
Eliza gaped as the woman hurried out to the garden.
Drawing abreast of her, Jasper queried, “Is everything all right?”
“I doubt it.”
He leaned over her, his proximity far too close to be seemly, but she couldn’t complain. The thrill she felt at his nearness was worth any censure.
“What do you know of your stepfather’s relations?” he asked.
“Extremely little. I avoided speaking with him whenever possible.”
Jasper’s gaze moved over her face, searching. “What was it about him you disliked so intensely?”
“You would have had to know my mother to understand. She was…erratic. Impulsive. What she needed was a firm hand, such as my father’s, but Mr. Chilcott was overly indulgent. He encouraged her wild notions and sudden changes of agenda. His enabling of her behavior led to their deaths. She decided they absolutely had to travel north to celebrate the passing of six months of marriage. She ignored warnings of muddy roads due to torrential downpours, and he didn’t have the sense or will to stay her.”
“I see.”
Eliza looked out to the rear lawn, but could no longer see Jane Rothschild or Lord Montague. The Cranmores had a heterogeneous garden featuring a hedgerow maze, a pagoda, various-sized obelisks, a recreation of a Grecian temple ruin, and a gazebo covered in climbing roses. It was an expansive outdoor space that could not be seen fully while standing in the ballroom.
“What are you looking for?” Jasper asked.
“Escort me outside.”
With one brow arched in a silent show of curiosity, he offered his arm and led her to the garden.
