other night, my mother went willingly to Montague’s bed.”
“Jane Rothschild,” she supplied.
“But like Jane Rothschild, my mother became pregnant.” He began to pace. “When Montague refused to offer for her, she had to tell her brother. Lord Gresham’s response was to disown her.”
“Her own sibling…Is that why you don’t bear his name?”
“I changed it legally. He left her in the city when he retired to Ireland, Eliza. She had nowhere to turn.”
“I cannot imagine.” Her voice was barely a whisper. “Being so helpless.”
He spoke more harshly than he intended. “And yet you freely offer me the means by which you are independent?”
She met his gaze unflinchingly. “You’re angry with me for offering my support?”
“No. Damnation. I’m angry at Montague for placing money between us!” He reached the wall and pivoted. “My mother turned to him. Begged him. He made her his mistress, then boasted to one and all that he’d reduced the Season’s brightest star to being his whore. When his luck in the gambling hells ran out and his debts mounted, someone offered to take a night with my mother as payment.”
“Oh, Jasper,” she breathed. “Where were you in all of this?”
“I was in the schoolroom during the day, and locked in my bedchamber at night. Some of the men Montague sent to her brought gifts and tokens of esteem. They remembered how promising her future had been and took pity on her. She pawned them all and used the money to fund my education…and her growing dependence on opium.”
Jasper didn’t look at Eliza as he spoke, knowing if he saw pity in her eyes he wouldn’t be able to continue.
“As Montague’s financial situation declined,” he went on, “so did the quality of my mother’s lodging, the men who came to her, and the gifts they brought her. She wasn’t willing to allow my education to suffer, so she began to earn money the only way she could…through whatever acts and degradation were required.”
His voice hardened. “Meanwhile, I learned all I could from my tutors, so that one day I could ruin Montague the way he ruined my mother. I was furious when he passed on before I was ready.”
There was a length of silence, during which all he heard was Eliza’s elevated breathing. Finally, she said, “What happened to your mother is unconscionable, Jasper. A cruelty so vile I could never have imagined it possible. And his son is cut of the same cloth.”
She stood and came to him, catching him around the waist mid-stride and forcing him to accept the comfort she offered. He stood stiffly for a long moment, breathing hard, his mind filled with scenes from a past he wished desperately to forget. Then the scent of her perfume penetrated through the fog of memories and brought him back to the present. Back to the wife he’d never expected to have, yet could no longer imagine living without.
He pressed his cheek to her crown. “I know what you sacrifice with your offer. As consumed as I’ve been by vengeance, I could easily squander everything you and your father have built. You know this, but you love me enough to put my needs first.”
“I do love you.” Her arms banded tightly around him. “I want you to be happy.”
“And I love you. I understood when I sent Lynd to deal with Mrs. Reynolds’s assignment that what I wanted most was to spend time with you. I also realized Montague could rob me of that, if I allowed him to.” He leaned back to look at her. “If I allowed him to define me and my actions.”
She swallowed. “What will you do?”
“I intend to ask Westfield to return the deed to Montague, and I will wash my hands of him. That’s why West- field is here this morning. You see, my mother wins if I enjoy a life of happiness with a beautiful wife and rambunctious, extremely bright children. The victory would be hers.”
Her hands cupped his face, her blue eyes shining with unshed tears and a love that humbled him. She was about to speak when a knock came at the door.
“Don’t move,” Jasper admonished.
Eliza’s dimple flashed, and he almost told whoever was bothering them to return in a few hours. Or days…
He pulled the door open.
Robbins stood in the gallery. “Forgive me, Mr. Bond. There is a Runner here to see you and Mrs. Bond. A Mr. Bell.”
“Right. Thank you. We’ll be down in a moment.”
Jasper collected his coat. Eliza accepted his arm when he was ready and they descended to the ground floor. As they passed the parlor, Westfield could be heard speaking with Miss Chilcott. He sounded affronted.
They met with Mr. Bell in Eliza’s study.
The Runner declined to take a seat and looked grim. “Yesterday, Mrs. Reynolds mentioned the Earl of Montague multiple times.”
Jasper kept his expression neutral, but shot a quick look at Eliza, who nodded.
“Right,” Bell said. “I’ve no notion-yet-of how his lordship is connected to yesterday’s events, but I thought it might be relevant to tell you he was murdered an hour ago.”
Eliza lost the color in her cheeks, but said nothing. Jasper, too, needed a moment to absorb the news. He was surprised, then relieved to realize he felt no regret or anger, as he’d felt when his father died. Montague’s escape into death robbed him of nothing. Everything he needed was standing right beside him.
“How?” Jasper asked finally.
“Miss Jane Rothschild did the deed,” the Runner relayed. “Shot his lordship in the heart with her father’s pistol.”
Epilogue
Eliza stood in the middle of her uncle’s study and wondered how she would find a slender journal amid the multitude of books.
“Are you quite certain it’s not in your bedchamber?” she asked.
Melville’s wild head of hair appeared on the other side of a high table. His face was seen shortly after, his cheeks red and eyes bright. “I’m certain I looked for it there.”
“Can we not purchase a new journal for your use on the island?”
“I require the information in the journal,” he said. “Not simply blank pages on which to write.”
Eliza jumped at the sound of Jasper’s voice, startled as ever by how silently he moved. He stood directly beside her. “Not quite. We’re still searching for his lordship’s journal.”
“
Jasper’s brows rose as Lady Collingsworth entered the room while reading from a thin-spined book.
“I’m delighted, Burgess,” Regina said, with a telltale blush. “Who knew you were a poet?”
Eliza was of the mind that her uncle was less than proficient in poetry, by any estimation, but she’d learned that the sentiment behind a gift or gesture was the most important aspect. Practicality came a distant second.
“Now may we set off?” Jasper held out his hand to Eliza. “I, for one, would prefer not to miss the ship carrying our luggage.”
“I’m ready,” Regina said, closing the journal and holding it out to Melville. When he accepted it, she took his arm.
“It will sound better when I read it to you,” his lordship whispered, leading Regina out to the waiting carriage.
Setting her hand in Jasper’s, Eliza wondered if the vibrating excitement reverberating through her was obvious on the exterior. He squeezed her fingers and smiled. “I can feel how anxious you are.”
“Not anxious. Eager.” She followed him back out to the foyer, where Robbins held her pelisse and bonnet. “I love the ocean and temperate weather. I cannot wait to be surrounded by both.”
“There’s nothing like falling asleep to the sound of crashing waves,” he murmured. “I intend to lay a blanket on the sand and ravish you in the moonlight.”
