Historical Romance May 2017 Books 1 - 4. Bronwyn ScottЧитать онлайн книгу.
pulled him inside, eager to reach the auction and get him away from the gaudily dressed woman across the street trying to catch his attention.
‘I’m coming.’ He bounded up the stairs past her, pulling her along. At the top, he tugged hard enough to make her skip over the last tread and land with a bounce in front of him on the landing. He caught her other hand and pulled her against him and away from the drop. The rumble of his laughter rose up to meet hers, the joy they’d taken in one another over the last weeks increasing. Whatever doubts she’d entertained about Jasper before the ceremony had long been destroyed by his constant humour and the hours they’d spent together. He wanted to be with her and they were revelling in their newfound freedom.
A balding businessman in a light coat mumbled his apologies while he passed them on his way out. His presence forced Jasper and Jane to assume a more professional air before they entered the room. It was a large one in the old house, a ballroom maybe, converted like the rest into a private apartment. True to its past it was embellished with chipped wainscoting, scrolled doors, tall windows hung with thick curtains and an abundance of gilt furnishings and knick-knacks.
‘It looks like your office,’ Jane whispered as they slipped behind the gathered crowd and gawked at the massive amount of baroque mirrors.
Jasper lowered his head to hers. ‘Maybe this is who purchased all of my old things.’
‘If you recognise anything, don’t buy it back.’
‘Why not? Aren’t you eager to own a sofa with this much red brocade?’ His breath tickled her ear while he motioned to the sofa behind them. ‘Think how it would go with our bed and what we could do on it.’
‘We could be quite wicked.’ Jane slid him an enticing sideways look, almost ready to abandon the auction for home and more carnal pursuits when the auctioneer announced the next item.
‘A large lot of French china in a classical pattern.’ A man held up a plate and bowl. The china was the only thing of style and taste in the entire room.
‘The set is perfect for the club and enough to get us started in the dining room.’
‘Are you sure you want something from here?’ Jasper fingered the tag of a very strange statue on the table beside them. The bronze couple was locked in an embrace worthy of the red sofa.
‘I do.’ The auction began, and only when she’d made the opening bid did she wonder at Jasper’s question. ‘Why shouldn’t I?’
His eyes danced with mirth. ‘No reason. Continue on.’
With the auction in progress, she couldn’t pause to interrogate him. Winning the china proved easier than securing the Fleet Street property and it didn’t come with a parcel of censorious looks from the other gentlemen crowded into the apartment. Whatever had enticed the other attendees here it didn’t include a sizeable set of French porcelain. In a few bids, she’d won the lot at a price she couldn’t wait to boast about the next time she dined with Philip.
‘Congratulations, my dear. You’ve made quite an acquisition.’ Jasper raised her hand to his lips and brushed it with a kiss. It sent a tingle down her arm and into places deeper down before the tight press of a restrained smile made her cock her head at him. He knew something she didn’t and it was amusing him to no end.
‘What are you thinking?’
‘About the allure we’ll offer to our clients. They can brag to their friends about eating beef off the notorious Mrs Greenwell’s china.’
All Jane’s plans to brag to Philip about her splendid purchase vanished. ‘What?’
He pointed at the portrait of an almost-naked woman hanging on the wall behind them and surrounded by a number of other works to make her blush. Then it struck her why the address seemed so familiar. At one time, Jane and Mrs Hale had followed the famous courtesan’s exploits in the papers, sniggering together at her boldness and quick to hide the stories whenever Laura or Philip had entered the room. It had been years since the woman’s name had appeared in the gossip columns, but there was no forgetting her antics, including a dip in the Vauxhall Gardens lake in nothing but her chemise.
She whirled on Jasper, who continued to smile like a sly fox. ‘Why didn’t you say something sooner, or stop me?’
‘Because I enjoyed watching you bid. You have a flare for auctions.’
‘But think of the money we’ve wasted. If anyone finds out where we got the service they’ll be horrified.’
‘Or intrigued.’ Jasper nudged her with his elbow. ‘The china is the closest most men will ever come to a famous courtesan and we’ll offer it to them. It’ll make our club the talk of the Fleet.’
No, this was not at all as she’d imagined. It was better. ‘You think so?’
‘I do.’
‘Then let’s purchase the couch and really give them something to discuss.’
* * *
Jasper sat at his desk in the gambling hell, signing off on letters of credit. Through the wall behind him, a great cheer went up. Someone must be doing well at the Hazard table. He returned his pen to the gilded holder of a peacock with full plumage and reached for an equally ornate duster. He didn’t wish the winner ill despite what it meant for the night’s takings. After his day with Jane, it was difficult to be in a bad mood. Jane’s joy at the auction, and the zeal with which she’d acquired a few more of the scandalous old woman’s things, had been a delight to see. Afterwards, they’d spent the rest of the afternoon writing adverts for the club, the work drawing them closer together and hinting at a far better future than the one he’d imagined more than a week ago. With regret he’d left her to come here, eager to return to his bed and her arms come the sunrise.
A series of loud groans from the night’s boisterous crowd began to puncture the quiet of Jasper’s sanctuary. The player’s luck must have given out.
Jasper reached for the grocer’s bill when raised voices and an argument made him halt.
‘Damn you, man, I’ll do as I like. Spin the wheel.’
‘Sir, please, listen to reason,’ came a dealer’s voice.
‘Spin, you bastard.’
Mr Bronson rushed into the office. ‘Captain Christiansen is playing too deep and losing and he isn’t happy about it. I tried denying him credit, hoping it would be enough to discourage him, but he has his own money tonight, more than I’ve ever seen him bring here.’
‘Where did he get it? He hasn’t been to sea in months,’ Jasper asked, rising from the desk.
‘Don’t know, but he won’t have much of it if he keeps playing the way he is.’
Jasper traced the edge of the brass peacock’s fan. ‘All right, cut him off. Take Adam with you and escort Captain Christiansen downstairs as discreetly as possible.’
‘That’ll be hard. He’s likely to make a fuss.’
‘Then try to appeal to his gentlemanly sense of embarrassment and do what you can. I’ll wait down there for you and tell him he’s banned from playing here.’
‘You sure you want to make yourself known?’
Jasper twisted his wedding band on his finger. ‘This place will soon be yours. Better he have a grudge against me than you.’ It would be Jasper’s first steps out of the shadows, one of the many he’d have to take to leave this life behind.
Mr Bronson headed back into the game room to orchestrate the delicate removal of Captain Christiansen while Jasper made his way downstairs. He waited in the dim light of the warehouse. The scratch of a rat scurrying through the few crates stacked along the wall was barely audible over the laughter and voices drifting down through the ceiling. As much as he hated these encounters they were necessary. If he’d stepped in and taken similar action with Mr Robillard,