Never Gamble Your Heart (The Secret Society of Governess Spies #2)

Chapter 5

F rankie was dining in the morning room with Madam Margaret, who had smiled kindly at her when she’d entered and then promptly fallen asleep, when Jasper bellowed as if he were several houses away rather than several rooms. With Madam Margaret dozing by the window, Frankie dared a sigh and pushed her plate aside. Heavens knew what the man was in a tizzy about now. It was only half past ten, and that was nearly ten, which made her only half an hour late starting Cecelia’s lessons. Her mother had once told her she was the least punctual person in all of England, but Frankie knew for a mathematical fact that was impossible.

Yesterday Frankie had sent a missive to the Dove warning her of Jasper’s reluctance to employ her. The Dove had replied promptly, the message arriving that morning, and Frankie had read the letter while munching on a plate of toast and rashers. She had anticipated that the Dove would be disappointed over Jasper’s desire to dismiss her, but the vigilante had appeared unworried.

I have not received his correspondence, which means you have time yet. Your priority is the business ledgers. If Jones is behind the Dowry Thieves there may be a duplicate ledger recording his transactions with the grooms. I trust that you will be able to tell the difference when you see it.

I must warn you again that Jasper Jones has an unforgiving reputation. Do not allow yourself to be caught.

—The Dove

At Jasper’s rather rude summons, Frankie folded the letter, tucked it up her sleeve, and stood. She followed the echo of his roar to the sitting room. As she was about to enter, she caught sight of a flash of orange at the end of the corridor; it was Cecelia, peeking from behind a stone bust. She mouthed an apology before quickly disappearing.

Frankie’s brow furrowed. Whatever the cause of Jasper’s ire, it seemed to involve Cecelia.

Before she crossed the sitting room threshold, her gaze landed on a tightly closed mahogany door just beyond the stone bust. The knob and keyhole gleamed silver in the morning light. Jasper’s study . Her heart quickened. He had made it strikingly clear that no one was allowed in his study, not even for a cleaning. If he were hiding a duplicate ledger, it would be there.

“I am waiting, Miss Turner.” His voice was deadly calm, and it reminded Frankie of the stillness in the air before a winter storm. The hairs on the nape of her neck lifted. The Dove’s warning echoed in the back of her mind: Do not allow yourself to be caught.

Jasper was standing by the desk at the window, his black hair gilded with morning light. His boots were polished, his navy morning coat brushed smooth, and his dark eyes flashed with barely concealed irritation. He smelled of fresh air and leather, as if he’d taken a ride earlier that morning, and it mingled with the sweet scents of honeysuckle and lavender. For an instant Frankie imagined herself in the countryside, dipping her toes in a pond and letting the sun wash over her face. She quickly banished the fantasy; she ought to be ashamed of thinking about relaxing by a pond. Her sister was heaven knew where, and this man could be responsible for the ruination of a number of women. Whatever he was frothing about, she would have to meekly rectify it if she wanted to complete her investigation during the few days he’d granted her.

Frankie inclined her head. “Mr. Jones.”

“Miss Turner.” Odd, it sounded as if he were gritting his teeth when he said her name.

Frankie met his eyes and waited patiently.

After several moments of silence, where the air in the room grew increasingly thick, he said, “Cecelia came to see me this morning.”

Frankie shoved at her spectacles and wished he would hurry up and say what he had to say.

“She desires to attend the house party at the Houndsbury country estate in Richmond.”

Frankie suddenly understood, although she did not think a modest request deserved shouting down the house. “Very well, Mr. Jones. I will have you know it is not generally within my purview to chaperone a pupil at a house party, but this one time I will make an exception, assuming I am still here. I know how much Cecelia wants to attend, and I must admit I think it is very good of you to allow her to go. She is clearly devastated by the loss of her father and terribly lonely. It will do her well to mingle with other young women her age, perhaps even find a companion or two. Goodness knows we could all use a few nights away from this pungent city.”

“That is not at all what I—” Jasper’s heavy brows drew together. “Why do you think she is lonely?”

“How could she not be?” Frankie exclaimed. “She is a fifteen-year-old girl rattling about a behemoth house that is not her own, with no one but Madam Margaret and the servants to keep her company. All the other girls of her social standing are in the country for the summer, and yet she is stuck here with far too much time on her hands to think. It must be universal knowledge that when one suffers a great loss, the best remedy is to keep busy. The party will do her a world of good.”

“I haven’t yet—”

“You are a very caring uncle,” Frankie continued. “Caring, but thoughtless. This is hardly enough time for the modiste to sew Cecelia an entirely new wardrobe. She absolutely cannot attend the Houndsbury function wearing dresses designed for an eight-year-old.”

“That we are in agreement on. As for the—”

Frankie snapped her fingers. “Perhaps there is hope! Surely Madame will have a few pre-sewn gowns on hand that will take only a few adjustments to fit Cecelia. The ball gown will be more challenging, but I suspect it can be managed. Have you written to Lady Houndsbury yet to accept her invitation? It would be awfully rude to simply show up.”

“No, I have not. And I am—”

Frankie heaved a sigh. “I shall write to her if you would like, and we will send it expressly. Now if we can—”

She squeaked as he closed the distance between them with three long strides and gripped her shoulders. His hands were powerful, the heat of them searing through the thin fabric of her gown. She lifted her eyes and her breath caught at his nearness. His face was closer than anyone’s had been since she’d snuck a kiss from the milk delivery boy when she was twelve and fancied herself in love. That was before she’d learned that no man could love a woman as odd as she.

Up close Jasper was even more handsome, and she was sure he knew it. Despite his defined physique, his lips appeared full and soft and… and for a moment Frankie could understand why women threw themselves at him. If he ever looked at her with as much passion as he did conceit, she might even feel fluttery, and Frankie Turner did not flutter. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to flutter, but in her experience very few men were able to look past the fact that she was smarter than they were, which meant she had little practice with flirting and flutters.

“Miss Turner,” he said, his voice bordering on desperation, “if you do not let me finish a single bloody sentence, I shall dismiss you on the spot.”

Frankie snapped her mouth shut so hard her teeth clicked, but she didn’t avert her eyes.

“We are not going to Richmond. I cannot leave the gaming hell that long.”

“You do not have a man you trust?”

“I do—”

“Then I don’t see why you cannot—”

“Miss Turner!”

She clapped both hands over her mouth. The corners of Jasper’s eyes creased in what nearly looked like amusement. He released her and stepped back. “Beyond the gaming hell, there are a number of other issues, not the least of which is that Cecelia is entirely too young, the venue entirely too far, and I am entirely too uninterested in attending a stuffy party that lasts for days on end. And because I suspect you have a hundred solutions to each of those issues, I shall add that I doubt any modiste has a ball gown ready on the drop of a hatpin for someone of Cecelia’s height.”

“Modiste? Did you say modiste and ball gown in the same sentence? Oh, Uncle!” A blur of bright orange streaked into the room and flung itself onto Jasper. “I just knew you would let me! I knew it! Have you forgiven me for before? I promise I will not do it again. I am so thrilled I cannot even express myself. Did Miss Turner convince you? No matter, I must go pack.”

“Cecelia.” Jasper caught the girl’s wrist before she could dash from the room, his expression resolute. “We are not…”

Cecelia blinked at her uncle with wide, adoring eyes, and Frankie was reminded of the time her sister had brought home a street puppy and begged to keep it. One look at Fidelia’s radiant face and her mother hadn’t even bothered arguing with her about turning it out. The dog had lived with them ever since.

“We cannot go to the Houndsbury party because”—a barely audible sigh escaped Jasper’s lips—“we are having a party here.”

Cecelia clapped both her hands over her mouth to muffle her scream of delight. “That is even better, Uncle! I have not seen my friends since… since before. May I invite them? They are not society people.”

Jasper frowned. “Why have you not invited them before now?”

Some of Cecelia’s excitement dimmed and she gave a small shrug.

Inspiration appeared to strike Jasper. “Why do you not plan the party, Cece? You are the lady of the house. I am sure with Mrs. Hollendale’s expert guidance you will do splendidly at putting together a small gathering.”

Cecelia beamed at him. “Thank you!” she squealed before skipping from the room.

As soon as she was gone Jasper shot Frankie a smug smile. “Being a guardian is not so hard as everyone makes it out to be.”

“I fear you underestimate Cecelia.”

“I am not worried,” he said, returning to the desk to collect his correspondence. “This is the happiest I have seen her since she came here. Besides, what is a small gathering? I have the means to support her project, and with so many peers in the country for the summer there is little risk of it turning into a stuffy society crush.”

“Do you want to bet on it?” Frankie asked impudently.

She caught Jasper’s head whip up, but she was already spinning around and sailing toward the door, a single doubt worming its way into her mind. Jasper had been resolute about not letting Cecelia attend the house party, and yet when it had come time to crush her dreams, he had offered an alternative instead. There was taking care of family, and then there was sacrificing for family. Hosting a party at his notoriously private residence would indeed be an enormous inconvenience for a man like Jasper, whose reputation excluded caring about anyone but himself.

So why had he done it?