Without conscious prompting, she straightened in her seat and her hand lifted to the brim of her simple straw hat.

Jasper was such a compelling figure, even the dappled light afforded by an overhanging tree could not diminish his vibrancy. A thrill of awareness moved through her, as did a strong appreciation for the sight of him. How long had he been there? She could have sworn he hadn’t been under that tree mere seconds before.

The earl spoke, drawing her thoughts back to him.

She tore her gaze from Jasper. “I beg your pardon, my lord?”

“Wed me,” he repeated. “I will give you things you don’t yet know you want. I understand you, Miss Martin. We are different in all the best ways. A collaboration between us would be to the advantage of us both.”

“I have a better idea. I will find you a more suitable candidate.”

Montague’s mouth curved. “You intend to play matchmaker?”

“In a fashion.” Eliza was keenly aware of Jasper’s gaze following her.

“Miss Martin, I want to be clear about my intentions. I’ve decided you will suit me best of all. I will not be easily dissuaded from my aim of proving I can complement you as well.”

“As you wish.” She sighed. “Please do not make a nuisance of yourself in the effort, Lord Montague. You’ve always been one of the more agreeable of my suitors. I should like you to stay that way, if possible.”

Montague laughed again and looked at her with sparkling eyes. “You are a delightful surprise. I wish I’d been wiser earlier in the Season.”

Eliza looked behind her to where Jasper had been.

He was gone, leaving behind a marked absence.

As Jasper urged his mount away from South Carriage Drive toward the adjacent Rotten Row, the member of his crew assigned to watching Eliza also turned with him.

“She has an eye for you,” Aaron White said, gesturing at another crew member further up the Drive who would continue surveillance.

Jasper nodded. He had come without thought. It wasn’t until he’d caught sight of Eliza that he realized why. A vague notion had played in his mind-a budding desire to see her glorious hair in sunlight-and somehow it led him here. Ridiculously sentimental. Completely out of character. Her time in his schedule had passed, and he had other matters to attend to.

“Of course,” Aaron continued, “you made certain she saw you.”

Jasper could shine in a crowd or hide among it in the space of a breath merely by making miniscule changes in his deportment and posture. He’d been an unnoticed observer until Montague said something to Eliza that snared her attention completely. Jasper had wanted to steal her regard, and he’d done so. “It’s best that she not seem too taken with any of her other suitors. Defeats the effectiveness of my plan to secure her safety.”

“And your pronounced interest in her has nothing to do with it,” Aaron teased, holding his reins loosely in one hand while the other rested atop his thigh. He was a young lad, short and stocky, a hard worker with three small mouths to feed. For that reason, Jasper kept him away from the more hazardous assignments. Watching out for Eliza was perfect.

“Her attractiveness makes the job more agreeable.” That was all Jasper intended to say on the matter.

Aaron’s gaze followed Montague. “The earl appears to agree. He seems genuinely taken with her.”

The sound of Montague’s recent laughter lingered in Jasper’s mind, and his gloved grip tightened on his reins. “She would be miserable with him. He cares for nothing so much as his own self-interest. I’m doing her a favor.”

“That’s one way of looking at the ruination of a proper society miss.” There was amusement in Aaron’s tone, which was understandable considering Jasper’s rule against dallying with ladies of quality. It was a rule he was clearly intent on breaking.

“I am not ruining her. She decided long ago she would never wed, and she reiterated that intention to me only hours ago.”

“And you’ll show her the joys of shagging, so she doesn’t die ignorant? Another favor? By God, Bond, you’re damn near saintly in your generosity.”

Jasper shot the younger man a fulminating glare.

Aaron raised both hands in a gesture of surrender. “You’re a shrewd businessman above all. Makes me right curious as to why you plan to stop short of the big prize. Since you’re taking her to bed, why not also take her to wife? Add her fortune to the other benefits of the association.”

“Wanting and wedding are two very different things. She would be equally miserable with me. I’ve no notion of how to keep a woman happy outside of the bedroom.”

“Don’t let her out of bed. Problem solved.”

“I am not amused.”

“Merely a suggestion.” Aaron grinned. “Not sure why I mentioned it, considering I benefit from your remaining just as you are now. If you became obscenely wealthy, you wouldn’t work so hard, and I would have fewer opportunities to earn my wages.”

Jasper’s gaze followed Eliza until Montague’s equipage was lost in the crowd. Out of sight, out of mind. He hoped. He withdrew his pocket watch and checked the time. Eliza would return home shortly and begin preparations for the evening.

How would she appear when dressed formally? Not that she would put any effort into it, which he found refreshing. Some women spent excessive amounts of time on their exteriors. Eliza’s most attractive qualities weren’t the most obvious ones. The hints of stronger passions were so subtle, even she was not aware of them. She was of the introspective sort, quietly curious and sharply intelligent.

Jasper, by contrast, preferred a more hectic pace of living. He kept his hours filled from the time he awoke until he couldn’t fight sleep a moment longer. Such preoccupation afforded less time to ruminate on the thorn wedged in his side. Eliza both helped and hindered in that regard. When he was with her, he was so mindful of her there was no room for awareness of anything else. And that was a problem. He could not afford to lose his focus now. Not when he was so close to achieving his aims.

He growled and tugged his hat lower on his brow, hating to be in public while so disconcerted. Over a spinster who thought he was too handsome and too dangerous.

“I shall leave Miss Martin in your capable hands,” he said.

“You might consider occupying your hands with a visit to the upper floor of Remington’s,” Aaron suggested. “To take the edge off.”

The prod to partake in the more carnal offerings at his favorite gentlemen’s club came from keen observation. Although Aaron’s observant nature was one of the reasons why Jasper had employed him, it was damned inconvenient when aimed in his direction. “Watch her. Not me.”

He turned about in search of another familiar figure. As luck would have it, he didn’t have far to look.

The gentleman Jasper sought was en route to him, weaving through the many riders with one hand lifted to his hat brim in perpetual greeting. Gabriel Ashford, ninth Earl of Westfield, was a gazetted rake of prominent family and fortune, which ensured that an inordinate number of female stares were directed his way. Although his exploits were known to include nearly every vice, there were no signs of dissipation marring the features that incited some women to swoon. He looked fit and lean, and his easy smile was on full display.

As Westfield drew near, his countenance changed subtly. The façade he wore so well slipped a little, revealing the true man beneath. A good and kind man whom Jasper had taken into his confidence. A gentleman he considered a friend.

“Good afternoon, Bond.”

Jasper tipped his hat. “My lord.”

“I saw you eyeing Montague.” Westfield drew abreast of Jasper’s mount. “Are you worried he’ll get his hands on Miss Martin’s fortune and settle his debt?”

“Actually, it was Miss Martin who held my interest.”

“Ah…I failed to collect that elusive bluestockings were to your taste.”

“Paying clients are always to my taste.”

“Interesting.” Westfield’s brows rose. “Why does Miss Martin require your services?”

Jasper spurred his horse into motion. The earl followed suit.

“What do you know of her and her kin?” Jasper asked.

“The Tremaine brood is unquestionably an odd lot, which makes them fiendishly easy to gossip about. The males are known to be brilliant to the point of madness, and the females are blessed with that stunningly beautiful shade of hair. Miss Martin seems to have inherited a bit of both traits in addition to her sizeable fortune. As for her parents, Mr. Martin was a man of trade and Lady Georgina was known to be charming and vivacious. Although Miss Martin seems as indifferent to men as her mother was appreciative, I’ve wondered if a deeper resemblance between them is simply untapped. Intriguing to contemplate.”

“Are you saying her mother was indiscriminate?”

“Lady Georgina was known to have a fondness for the social company of men. Does that mean she took many to her bed?” Westfield shrugged. “I cannot say. However, she married Martin immediately following her presentation. She would have had her pick of peers, but instead jumped into matrimony with a commoner. Why, unless it was a love match? And if it was a love match, I doubt she would stray.”

“What do you know of Mr. Martin?”

“I know his death was shocking to many. He was said to have a vigorous constitution. He was built like a laborer and often pitched in as one when the opportunity presented itself. A servant found him dead in his office when he failed to appear for supper. A weak heart was blamed.”

Jasper decided he would have to dig further back, before Eliza’s present-day suitors, to see if the trouble plaguing her had begun long before now.

Westfield inclined his head at a passing acquaintance. “Many have speculated that the vagaries of the family he married into might have hastened him to his grave. His due, so to speak, for his lofty marital aspirations. After his passing, Lady Georgina married again, to another commoner.”

A woman of high passions and a lack of prejudice. Did Eliza carry those inclinations? How delicious if she did…

Jasper shook off the tangential thought. “Miss Martin has a stepfather?”

“Had. Lady Georgina and Mr. Chilcott were killed together in a carriage accident before Miss Martin’s first Season. The poor girl has been sorely afflicted with tragedy.”

Did she grieve? Jasper wondered. Had she always been so detached from others or was that a recently acquired safety mechanism?

“Now tell me,” the earl said, “what has Miss Martin engaged you to do?”

“She has cause to fear for her safety.”

Westfield’s brows rose. “Truly? Who would want to injure her? She’s worth more alive than dead.”

“She believes someone-perhaps an overzealous suitor- is trying to goad her into marriage as a means of protecting herself. I haven’t yet decided if she’s correct, but hearing about her parents’ untimely demise only incites further concern.”

“How diverting,” the earl said. “Can I assist you in any way?”

“I was hoping you would ask.” Jasper reached into his pocket and withdrew the small book containing Eliza’s social calendar. It was an unavoidable fact that there were some doors he needed a peer to open. “I must attend as many of these functions as possible.”

The earl flipped through the small bound pages with one hand. “I see I will have to refrain from arranging a liaison tomorrow evening, so I can squire you about.”

“I appreciate your sacrifice,” Jasper drawled.

“I should hope so.” Westfield’s tone was droll. In truth, he enjoyed participating in Jasper’s work when the circumstances allowed. He was even known to become somewhat of a pest, if Jasper went too long without enlisting him for some task or another. “See you at ten?”

“Perfect.”

Eliza had just pulled on a dressing gown and settled in front of her vanity mirror when a knock came to her boudoir door. When bade to enter, a white-capped maid stepped in and curtsied. “His lordship asks for you, miss.”

“Thank you.”

Frowning, Eliza watched the servant back out of the room. She’d enjoyed tea with her uncle just an hour before, listening fondly as he spoke at length and with great animation about his latest botanical experiments. Once, their solarium had been filled with comfortable chaises and short bookcases. Now, it housed rows of long tables supporting various potted plants. Eliza didn’t mind the loss of her former favorite reading spot, appreciating how the experiments in the glass space exposed his lordship to sunlight and fresh air.

What would cause him to ask for her now, at an hour when she was beginning preparations for the evening’s social events? Perhaps he had an epiphany of some sort or something of a celebratory nature to share? He once woke her before sunrise because a splicing experiment yielded unexpectedly delightful results.