Sylvia Day - Pride and Pleasure

Marriage would not be the end of his hunt.

Jasper urged his horse away from Lambeth Palace. He cast a final look at the brick gatehouse and Lollard’s Tower, then set his hand lightly over the Special License tucked into his coat’s inner pocket.

Drawing abreast of him, Westfield said, “You have yet to tell me precisely what the letters said. Since their contents incited our mad rush to the archbishop, you have to know I’m overset with curiosity.”

“The missives were brief. A few lines each, almost in rhyme, with the same admonishment to retire from the city. Two made indirect references to sidesaddles and the Serpentine, both of which relate to accidents Miss Martin experienced.”

“Nothing about the falling statue at the Royal Academy? Perhaps it was an accident.”

“Perhaps. I’m at a disadvantage in many respects. I don’t know if the letters arrived before the events, which might suggest violence was not the culprit’s first choice. Or if the letters arrived after the fact and served as taunts.”

“Written by a woman, you say?” Westfield whistled. “There is some sense in that. A man who wished to prevent her from marrying could simply compromise Miss Martin.”

“I doubt she would have conceded, despite the damage to her reputation. She has an aversion to being managed and a limited appreciation for Society’s mores.”

“Truly?” The earl tugged the brim of his hat down as a shield against the late afternoon sun. “The more I learn of her, the more I like. Who would have thought a spinster’s sixth Season would cultivate such drama and intrigue?”

“Which begs the question: why now? Melville’s correspondence has been accumulating for years. His housekeeper was able to present a small trunk of past letters, and there were no threats prior to this Season.”

“I assume you won’t be abandoning your work in favor of a honeymoon?”

The mention of a honeymoon was all it took to fill Jasper’s mind with lascivious thoughts. “If only I were so fortunate.”

“You are extremely fortunate.”

Jasper’s brows rose. “Oh?”

“You knew precisely what you wanted, and made certain you attained it.”

Directing his gaze forward, Jasper pondered the somber note in the earl’s normally droll tone. “Is all well with you, my lord?”

“Of course. Nothing is ever wrong in my world, Bond. There are no surprises. No challenges. Equanimity rules the day.”

“There is something to be said for that.”

“Yes, it’s boring.”

Laughing, Jasper urged his mount into a canter, leaving the Thames behind. There was a great deal to be done before he could end the day. “You are welcome to stay in my world for a while longer, if you prefer. Never a dull moment.”

“Wait until you’re married,” Westfield drawled.

Jasper entered his house to the sound of raucous laughter floating out of the downstairs parlor. Behind him, Westfield barely stepped onto the marble floor of the visitor’s foyer when Herbert Crouch caught sight of them.

Herbert, who’d been leaning against the parlor doorjamb as if awaiting them, pulled his hands out of his pants’ pockets and straightened. He was one of Jasper’s most seasoned employees; old enough that his two grown sons also worked for Jasper. He lumbered over with a broad grin that peeked out from the frame of a bushy, unkempt beard.

The Crouches were an odd-looking lot as a whole. Herbert was of a height with Jasper, but considerably broader. Many of his progeny were near giants; the top of their sire’s head barely reached their shoulders.

Herbert mussed his wheat-colored hair with a meaty hand, disrupting the perfectly molded shape of his hat’s interior. “I ’ave news that might be interesting.”

Gesturing toward his study, Jasper passed his hat and gloves to his butler, but kept his coat on. The Special License in his pocket wasn’t something he was willing to allow out of his immediate reach.

He settled behind his desk. Westfield moved over to the console to help himself to the Armagnac. Herbert sank heavily onto one of the settees.

With libation in hand, Westfield faced the center of the room and leaned back against the console with his hip. He crossed his legs at the ankle and enjoyed a deep swallow of brandy. “How fare you, Crouch?”

Jasper studied him. The earl seemed to be imbibing more of late. If he continued along the same vein, Jasper intended to bring the matter up for discussion. It was not a subject he looked forward to broaching, but the health of his friend warranted his concern.

“As well as can be expected, mi’lord.” Herbert didn’t smile, which was unusual for him. Jasper knew the commoner was ill-at-ease conversing socially with an earl.

“How are Mrs. Crouch and your brood?”

“All are well. The missus is increasin’ again.”

“Again? Dear God.” Westfield took another drink. “How many children do you have now?”

“Eighteen. Until the birthin’.”

“You are a stronger man than I, Crouch.”

Herbert gave an awkward pull on his beard and looked at Jasper almost pleadingly.

Jasper took pity on the man and said, “Before you begin, it is important to know we’re now looking for a woman.”

“I knew it!” Herbert slapped his knee.

“Of course you did.” Jasper was more than satisfied with the strengths of his crew. Herbert in particular had an instinct for hunting, becoming quite dogged when he sensed something was amiss. “What did you uncover?”

“I still ’ave a few more questions of my own to answer ’bout some o’ the renters, but there’s one I’m fair certain isn’t what she says she is.”

“Who?”

“Vanessa Pennington. Aaron and I ’ave asked around, but we can’t find any proof of a Mr. Pennington. No ring on ’er finger, no papers or letters, no portraits-”

“Perhaps she keeps such sentimental items in a private place,” Westfield suggested.

“I checked,” Herbert said.

“How-?” Westfield paused. “Forget I asked.”

Jasper’s mouth curved. “Her residence is above the store, yes?”

Herbert nodded. “Aside from the agreement to rent the space from Miss Martin, I couldn’t find anything with the name ‘Pennington’ on it. But I did find several receipts and such addressed to ‘Vanessa Chilcott.’”

“Chilcott.” Jasper leaned back heavily into his chair. “Bloody hell.”

“A ne’er-do-well clan of thieves and miscreants.” West-field straightened and took the seat opposite Herbert. “Perhaps their past success with Lady Georgina has made them bold in regards to the Tremaine family.”

“How is Vanessa Chilcott related to Miss Martin’s stepfather?” Jasper asked.

Herbert lifted one sturdy shoulder in a shrug. “Aside from praising her face and figure, the other shopkeepers in the area ’ad little to say ’bout her. She keeps to ’erself.”

Westfield snorted. “I’ve been told the Chilcotts are all remarkably good looking. Which is not enough to make me foolish, but clearly the same cannot be said of everyone, or the family wouldn’t be so successful in their subterfuges.”

Jasper averted his gaze. Eliza was too intelligent to miss seeing the parallels between her relationship with him and her mother’s with Chilcott. She had to overlook prejudicial experiences in order to extend her trust to him, which made her credence all the more valuable. He would have to tread carefully or risk losing something priceless.

“I want Miss Chilcott watched at all hours until further notice,” he told Herbert. “I want to know whom she speaks to, where she goes, and what hours she keeps. And I need to know how she’s related to Miss Martin.”

“I’ll see to it.” Herbert pushed heavily to his feet.