Sylvia Day - Pride and Pleasure

“The store. It’s ablaze.”

“Pennington’s?”

Eliza’s heart lodged in her throat. “What is ablaze? What’s happening?”

“Stay with her,” Jasper ordered, running down the front steps to where a footman held the reins to Aaron’s mount. Catching the pommel with both hands, he vaulted into the saddle and galloped away.

As he disappeared from view, Eliza stared out the open doorway, confused and frightened. Aaron stepped into the house, panting. She caught him by a thick biceps before he moved past her. Their gazes met directly. “Where has he gone?”

“To your property on Peony Way.”

One meaningful glance at Robbins was all it took to set things in motion. Within twenty minutes a carriage was hitched and brought around front. During that time, Eliza spoke with Regina and Melville, explaining the delay and assuring them all would be well. She ignored admonishments to await Jasper’s return.

“We’re to be married in half an hour,” she argued. “Regardless of the circumstances or location, I intend to be with him at that time.”

Aaron followed her down the front steps to the street. “He wouldn’t want you there. For your own safety.”

“While he risks his own for me?”

“Bond is not unprepared for this event. I’m certain the situation will be well in hand before we arrive.”

“Then he should have no cause for objection.” She pulled together the sides of her hastily donned pelisse and secured the buttons.

Eliza was tying the ribbon to her bonnet when a familiar figure rode up to the house and drew to a halt.

“Don’t tell me I missed the nuptials,” Westfield called out, pushing up the brim of his rakishly angled hat.

“Mr. Bond and I will return shortly, my lord.” She accepted the footman’s assistance up the carriage steps. “Please see yourself inside. Lady Collingsworth will receive you.”

The earl dismounted and approached, catching either side of her carriage’s doorframe with both hands and leaning in. All levity was gone from his features. “What has you so anxious?”

“One of my properties has caught fire. Mr. Bond has gone on ahead.”

“To Peony Way,” Westfield said.

Eliza blinked, understanding that everyone had a piece of the puzzle she was missing. “Perhaps you should ride with me.”

He nodded and climbed in. Aaron joined them, sharing the opposite squab with the earl.

With a crack of the coachman’s whip, the carriage jolted forward.

Her foot rapped an impatient staccato against the floorboards. “Why is the incident at the Peony property of surprise only to me?”

Westfield explained. “The tenant you know as Mrs. Vanessa Pennington is, in truth, Miss Vanessa Chilcott. Bond suspected Miss Chilcott of intending to use her business relationship with you to create a financial liability on your part.”

Eliza felt oddly still inside, her thoughts strangely quiet. She wondered if it was shock she felt or simply resignation. The nature of the Chilcott brood was well-known to her, but she’d thought herself beyond their avarice since her mother’s passing.

“Such as a fire on the property,” she said without inflection. “If I was neglectful as a landlord or deliberately failed to address a safety issue in the building, she might have a claim then.”

“Precisely. Bond believed you might pay a handsome settlement to keep your gender and evidence of your holdings out of the courts.”

A cold fury moved through her. “But such a quiet transaction would no longer be likely to occur once I marry. Hence the need for her to act before the vows are spoken.”

As they neared Peony Way, they found the street blocked off by wagons set perpendicular to the flow of traffic. Thick, black smoke mushroomed into the air and burned her airways. Eliza withdrew a kerchief from her reticule and held it against the lower half of her face.

They alighted from the carriage at the makeshift barrier and traversed the rest of the distance on foot, pushing their way through crowds of onlookers who fought tenaciously to retain their vantages. Westfield led the way while Aaron brought up the rear, both men attempting to cushion her from the crush but being only moderately successful.

When they neared the charred storefront, they found their way impeded by members of the fire brigade working on behalf of Eliza’s insurance company to minimize the damage. She explained who she was, her eyes on the building’s façade. Allowed to pass through, she searched the sea of people clogging the immediate area and spotted Jasper’s tall frame.

“There.” She pointed.

Westfield caught her elbow and shepherded her closer. When they were only a few feet away, the crowd parted and a cleared path appeared, revealing Jasper standing by Mrs. Penning- Miss Chilcott . The woman’s gown and apron were both singed and covered in ash. Her blond hair was darkened by soot, as was her face, which had a swelling bruise around her left eye. The resemblance to Eliza’s stepfather was so obvious, it would be impossible to miss if one was paying attention, which Eliza hadn’t been when they’d met. A morning spent with Jasper in the close confines of his carriage, followed by his entrance into the Pennington shop so swiftly on the heels of her own had kept her too preoccupied to pay any mind to the other woman.

It was a testament to Vanessa Chilcott’s beauty that she was still riveting in her disheveled condition. Westfield faltered slightly when she turned toward them, his breath leaving his lungs in an audible rush.

“Eliza.” Jasper did not appear to be overly surprised to see her. “Why did I know you wouldn’t heed caution and stay home?”

“I go where you go.” She examined him for signs of injury. He was dirty with ash and soot, as if he’d been in the building as well, but he didn’t appear to be hurt.

She turned her attention to the woman standing beside him. “Miss Chilcott.”

Vanessa Chilcott’s blue eyes were red-rimmed and somewhat vacant. She replied in a painfully hoarse voice. “Miss Martin.”

“What happened here?”

Jasper had begun to reply when a fireman approached.

“The fire is contained,” the man said. “We found the body and a can of paraffin oil, just as Mrs. Pennington described.”

“Body?” Eliza felt ill. “Dear God…Someone was caught in the fire?”

Jasper nodded. “Miss Chilcott went up to her flat to retrieve a special order and caught Terrance Reynolds in the act of setting the place ablaze. They fought, and she brained him with a poker. She barely made it out before the fire engulfed the space. I attempted to retrieve him…but it was too late.”

“Mr. Reynolds?” Eliza repeated.

Her man of affairs had been excruciatingly thorough in his vetting of prospective tenants. By God, he’d discovered Jasper’s ownership of the property Westfield wagered against Montague, despite the intricate nature of the inquiry and formidable time constraints. He would not have missed discovering that Mrs. Pennington was actually Vanessa Chilcott. Why had he withheld the information? What reason would he have to allow a Chilcott to rent space from her?

She looked at Vanessa. “You were his insurance. He hid your identity from me to use at his convenience. What role do you play in this subterfuge?”

“None.” Vanessa’s chin lifted. “I am more ignorant of this matter than you are.”

“What relation are you to my stepfather?”

“I am your stepsister.”

Staggered by the day’s revelations and the understanding that the employee she’d trusted so keenly had betrayed her, Eliza swayed on her feet. Jasper caught her close.

She clung to him. “I saw him only hours ago. He came with information about you. Information intended to make me doubt the wisdom of marrying you.”