Sylvia Day - Pride and Pleasure

“An investment pool managed by Lord Collingsworth and rental properties,” she answered, with her head already bent and quill in hand. “Both residential and commercial. I can take you to them, if you like.”

“I would.”

“Will the day after tomorrow be soon enough for a tour and meeting with my man of affairs, Mr. Reynolds?”

“Quite. I will also need a list of your tenants.”

She glanced up at him. “Your attention to detail is very impressive.”

He bowed. “I do try. I will call on you tomorrow at one.”

“I’ll be ready.”

Turning about, Jasper moved to leave the room. On the threshold, he looked back, finding a small bit of pleasure in catching Eliza staring after him, despite the frown marring her brow. She looked down quickly.

When he reached the foyer, he pulled out his pocket watch and was startled by the time. He’d overstayed his visit by nearly ten minutes, making him late for his next appointment.

Bloody hell. He had completely forgotten the time.

Eliza was compiling the list of property holdings Jasper had requested when her man of affairs was announced. She looked up at the somberly dressed but friendly-faced man in her study doorway, and gestured for him to take a seat before her desk. “Good morning, Mr. Reynolds.”

“An excellent morning, Miss Martin.” Terrance Reynolds sat and placed his satchel at his feet.

She shook her head at the butler, who’d been waiting to relay a tea service request to the housekeeper. While she knew she should offer the courtesy, she truly didn’t have much to say, and she dreaded the awkwardness that would arise when she couldn’t fill the additional time with conversation. Some women possessed a talent for charming but meaningless discourse. Sadly, she was not one of them.

“You will be happy to hear,” Reynolds began, “that I’ve found a shopkeeper for the vacant space on Peony Way. A purveyor of soaps, candles, and such.”

“Excellent. You are most efficient, Mr. Reynolds.”

“Thank you.”

She set her quill aside, noting how much more comfortable she was talking to Reynolds than she was to Mr. Bond…Jasper. Yet that wasn’t to say she preferred the comfort of one over the excitement of the other, which made no sense, considering she’d never been one to enjoy excitation overmuch. Her mother’s life had forever been a series of crises and bursts of happiness interspersed with heated arguments and the depths of despair. Eliza had grown so weary of Georgina Tremaine Martin Chilcott’s incessant drama that she’d taken great pains to moderate her own life. She preferred private dinners to lavish balls, and the comfort of laying on her boudoir chaise with a book over literary luncheons. There was nothing at all soothing about Jasper Bond, and she was intrigued by the fact that she missed the heightened awareness she felt in his presence.

Eliza returned her attention to the man sitting across from her. “You mentioned last week that your brother’s employer had passed on. Is he still in search of employment?”

The males in the Reynolds family were all in trade as men of affairs and bookkeepers. She’d been briefly introduced to another of the siblings, Tobias Reynolds, who was possessed of the same golden locks and green-as-glass eyes as Ter-rance. She had henceforth inquired about Tobias on occasion-part of a well-meant but surprisingly arduous attempt to be more personable-and she’d learned of his misfortune in the course of those inquiries.

“He’s been assisting our father and other brother,” Reynolds replied, “but yes, Tobias is without a permanent post at the moment.”

“I should like to engage him, if he’s so inclined. He will have to travel and leave quickly, but the recompense should be sufficient to mitigate such inconveniences.”

Reynolds frowned. “Where would you like him to go?”

“County Wexford. There is a person of interest there I would like to know better. Family, circumstances, community stature. Things of that nature.” Eliza ignored the hint of unease that briefly plagued her. Yes, Jasper asserted that his past was irrelevant, and he was not a man one wished to cross. However, she had a right to know if she would be lying on his behalf, or if there was indeed more to her thief-taker than met the eye. “As always, discretion is the rule, but more so in this instance. I don’t want Lord Gresham to be aware of my interest. And timeliness will be rewarded.

“Would you prefer me to see to it personally?” he offered.

“No. I need you here. We’ll be advancing the monthly tour of my properties to the day after tomorrow.”

“As you wish, Miss Martin. I will speak with my brother as soon as I depart.”

“If you could also ascertain the extent of the allowance he feels will be sufficient to support the endeavor, I will ensure I have the amount available before he departs.”

“Certainly.” He didn’t query her about the nature of her interest, which was why they worked well together. She did not like to justify her expenses to anyone.

“Thank you.” She managed a smile. “That will be all for now, Mr. Reynolds. I appreciate you, as always.”

After he left, Eliza glanced at the clock on her desk. Her nose wrinkled. The morning was gone, and the afternoon was rushing by as swiftly. Soon, she would be welcoming guests into her parlor and engaging in conversation so inane she wouldn’t remember later what she discussed.

She was disappointed Jasper wouldn’t be there. The time would be much more engrossing if he were. When she considered all the amusements used to enliven events that never engaged her-the pianoforte, singing, card games, and chess-she was taken by the realization it was a man best used as a blunt-force instrument who interested her most.

There were some days when Eliza actually enjoyed riding through Hyde Park, despite the torturously slow pace of the congestion and the need for endless smiling that pained her cheeks. Today was one of those good days. The soft breeze and gentle warmth of the sun were refreshing, and the need to prepare quick and appropriate responses to greetings kept her thoughts free of Jasper.

“You seem to be enjoying yourself today, Miss Martin,” the Earl of Montague said from his seat beside her. He’d arrived for their agreed-upon outing in a new and clearly expensive curricle. When he first began pursuing her in earnest, she’d wondered why a peer of seemingly substantial wealth would show such dogged interest in her of all people. Then she learned he maintained the appearance of solvency through prudence-and luck-at the gaming tables. It was a clever ruse and one few bothered to delve into.

She looked at him with a frown, slightly chagrined by her inability to navigate the social waters without bumping into things. “Is it so obvious that I usually do not?”

“Not so obvious, no,” he said, while deftly handling the ribbons. He maneuvered through the multitude of conveyances on South Carriage Drive with admirable skill. “But I’ve taken to paying close attention to you, Miss Martin. And I collect that you have little interest in Society as a whole.”

“To put it bluntly, my lord.”

Montague grinned, his teeth white despite the shadow cast by the brim of his hat. Of all her suitors, she would say he was the most attractive. His dark hair was so thick and glossy she thought it might feel like silk if she touched it, and his eyes were extremely expressive. Similar in color to Jasper’s, but nowise near as shuttered.

“I understand,” he went on, “that a woman loses a measure of freedom when she takes a husband.”

“Most vexing, to be sure.”

“And I appreciate your reticence. You see, I’ve come to the delayed understanding that people in general perplex you.”

Eliza’s brows rose. “You have?”

“I realize now I was going about this business of courting you all wrong. Most women want wooing-flowers and tokens of affection, focused attention, and the like.”

“The flowers you send weekly are lovely,” she said automatically, although she thought it a shame for such beautiful living things to be cut away from their source of nourishment.

“I’m gratified you think so. But I believe you wouldn’t miss them if I ceased making the gesture. You would not experience hurt feelings or attribute emotional reasons to my actions based on conjecture.”

He offered a genuine smile, and she stared, seeing a charm in it she’d missed previously. It was an aftereffect of Jasper that she was now overly attentive to other males. She wanted to discern why the thief-taker affected her so strongly.

“I am sorely inept at interpreting such things,” she agreed, adjusting the angle of her parasol to better shield her face. The slightest touch of sun on her nose would result in more freckles.

“No, you are perfectly reasoned,” his lordship argued. “And that’s where I erred. I was pandering to your softer nature, when I should have been appealing to your intellect. Therefore, I will not insult your intelligence any further. I’m in need of your fortune, Miss Martin.”

Intrigued, she shifted on the seat to better study him. “A novel approach, I must say. Quite bold.”

His grin held shades of triumph. “And you like it. For the first time in our acquaintance, I feel as if I have your attention in its entirety.”

Montague paused to tip his hat to Lord and Lady Grayson as they passed. When he looked back at Eliza, there was a new gleam in his eye, reminiscent of the way Jasper looked at her. It lacked the ability to make her breath catch, but she recognized it for what it was-the earl was suddenly more intrigued by her as well.

“The best approach to you is so obvious,” the earl continued, “that I’m quite put out by my failure to see it before. Whether or not I have elevated feelings for you isn’t of enough value to you to equal what you believe you will lose. In the simplest of terms, I haven’t shown you that I am a good investment.”

Captured by the uniqueness of the conversation, Eliza wished they were not in public so she could fully enjoy the surprise without interruption. “Please, go on.”

“First and foremost, the Montague lands are vast and with proper care would yield a tidy return.”

“Why isn’t the estate supporting you now?”

“My father suffered from a loose hand with coin, an untrustworthy steward, and a greedy mistress. I assure you, however, I am not my father.”

“Perhaps not, but you are a gamester, my lord. You have managed to do well enough with your winnings.” She gestured at his fashionable equipage. “But luck at the tables is a fickle thing, and certainly you would eventually contract mistresses of your own. Perhaps you will become smitten by a paramour who is also afflicted with avarice. I would not take kindly to destitution due to gambling or the waste of my funds on another woman who was enjoying the companionship of my husband. I expect to own the things I pay for, and I rarely lend them out.”

“Ah, so,” he said softly, with another warm glance in her direction. “You know, Miss Martin, the more I know of you, the more taken I am.”

“Today, I find myself enjoying your company as well. But forgive me, my lord, I have no desire to marry you.”

“There are other benefits.” Outwardly, nothing changed, but Eliza sensed a new weight of expectation, as if he were debating whether or not to continue with his thought. “Aside from financial considerations, there are other ways in which a man and his wife reach an accord. I want to assure you, you would not find married life to be distasteful. I’ve no wish for disharmony in my home. I would make every effort to see that you were satisfied in sharing your life with me.”

For a moment, she was perplexed by his statement. Did they not have an accord now? Then she recalled the conversation she’d had with Melville and Jasper about the things women wanted from men. Which led her to thinking about the things a peer would want from a woman…

“Are you referring to procreation, my lord?”

Montague visibly jolted. Staring straight ahead, he seemed unable to respond. And then he laughed. It was a full, open-throated sound that drew stares from every quarter. “No wonder you find the usual discourse less than interesting. Speaking one’s mind is much more stimulating.”

Eliza opened her mouth to reply, then shut it again as her attention was snared by a familiar shade of blue velvet. Montague’s carriage continued to move forward, but Eliza’s eyes remained riveted to Jasper, who sat astride a black steed just off the Row, watching her with the fiercely intense stare that set butterflies to flight in her stomach. Her response was so strong, it was unnerving. Her palms grew damp, conveying a heat that had nothing to do with the weather. It was rather like spotting a crouched panther in the brush, its rapacious gaze following the prey it intended to pounce upon at any moment.