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

Chapter 19

I t was a busy night at the gaming hell and Jasper had to smile and engage in pleasant conversation more than he cared to because of Cecelia’s blasted soirée. It was as if the gentlemen who frequented his hell had begun to see him as more of an equal than a businessman, a shift that did not please him. Men who saw him as a friend were more likely to ask for favors, and Jasper’s favors never came without a price.

A few hours after the dinner meal had begun to wind down, one of his security men approached him. “Mr. Jones, there is a young girl at the door. She says she is related to you and must speak with you straight away.”

The hairs on the back of Jasper’s neck stood and he crossed the gaming floor with strides that bordered on a run. It had to be Cecelia, and if she was standing outside his gaming hell a half hour to midnight, then something must be dreadfully wrong.

Jasper threw open the door and his eyes raked her over. There were no obvious injuries, and she was smiling as if she were as pleased as a pig in mud. Jasper yanked her inside and snapped at his doorkeeper, “If you ever see this young woman again, she is to be admitted immediately and not left on the street to the whims and mercies of passing men, do you understand?”

The man tipped his hat in acknowledgment and Jasper tugged Cecelia to the side. “What is the matter? Why are you here? Is the house on fire? Is Miss Turner all right?”

“Why do you ask about Miss Turner?” Cecelia asked, an odd gleam in her eye.

“She is supposed to be watching you, that is why.”

“She is my governess, not my keeper.”

“I can hire a keeper,” Jasper growled.

Cecelia grimaced and said hurriedly, “I am in fact here because of Miss Turner.”

Jasper’s breath caught. “What is the matter? Is she ill?”

“I came here because…”

“Because why Cecelia?”

“I am pausing for dramatic effect, Uncle, but I think I will have to show you what is happening. Before I do, you must promise not to punish Miss Turner by terminating her employment or writing to her governess agency. If you do not make me this promise, I shall not take you to her, and believe me, you want to know what she’s doing right now.”

Jasper sensed a scheme, even as Cecelia’s voice held conviction.

Cecelia pulled her hood over her hair. “Do you promise?”

“I promise.”

He did not bother with his coat or hat; he simply followed his niece into the street, grateful that her hood concealed her identity. He did not always understand the intricacies of proper behavior for society women, but he was almost certain that being seen outside a gaming hell at midnight was cause for scandal. Cecelia was not upper class, but she had money and she had opportunities, and he would not see her waste them on foolish mistakes.

When they were almost at the house Cecelia broke her silence. “Would it make you angry if you discovered Miss Turner hosting a gentleman caller?”

Rage, hot and potent, pulsed through his veins. She had brought an unknown man into his house and exposed his niece to a stranger? How dare she entertain another man when she had kissed him as if she were his?

Jasper paused mid-step at the surprising and unwelcome thought. Where had that come from?

With a deceivingly calm voice he said, “Is she, Cecelia?”

Cecelia shivered. “Your voice, Uncle Jasper! You sound so cold and scary. No wonder everyone is afraid of you. My father said you once survived a three-person knife fight. Is that true?”

“Cecelia!”

“Oh, all right. I can see the answer to my question plainly enough anyway. No, she is not.”

“Then why would you say such a thing?”

Her expression was hidden by the shadow of her hood when she answered, “No reason.”

Jasper’s relief was short-lived. Whatever Cecelia was up to, it wasn’t good. He stopped abruptly outside his front door. The streetlamps had been lit hours ago and the yellow orbs of light danced along the road. The moon was struggling to shine through a persistent blanket of smog, and the heat of the day still clung to the cobblestones. The scent of their evening’s supper of roasted chicken could still be smelled on the air. Everything appeared calm and typical of a late summer evening, except Jasper was convinced he was being set up.

“Is there a lady inside waiting to entrap me in marriage?”

Cecelia took his hand and tugged him up the steps. “No, I promise there is no lady waiting for you, Uncle Jasper. There is only Miss Turner, who I saw slip into your study after you left. I was not going to tell you, but then a brilliant thought occ—I mean, then I thought that I owed you and should let you know.”

They stood inside the foyer, which was nearly tar black with lack of light. Upon hearing that Frankie was in his study, Jasper’s ire returned full force. He should not have let her prior trespassing go unaddressed this long. It was time he discovered exactly why his governess was so intent on entering his study. “Go to bed, Cecelia.”

“But Uncle—”

“ Go .”

She huffed as Jasper lit a candle by the door and handed it to her. “Do not let me catch you eavesdropping.”

She scowled and turned to stomp away, but he was almost certain he caught her scowl shift into a smile when she thought her back was turned.

Jasper did not have time to ponder what Cecelia was plotting. If Frankie truly was in his study, she was about to discover what happened when someone crossed Jasper Jones.

He walked down the corridor, his boots soundless on the tile. The door to his study was closed, but a small bead of light moved beneath the door. He turned the knob and entered. The room was in near darkness except for a single lamp glowing on the table by the settee, and on that settee was Frankie Turner, his ledger on her lap.

The image of her on his settee, in this personal space where he allowed no one, awakened the uncivilized part of him that he struggled to keep leashed. Cecelia’s taunt about Frankie entertaining another man in his own house had riled him more than he cared for, and now, seeing the rule-breaking governess in his lair, he felt what remained of his control slipping away. “I see you found my key.”

Frankie squeaked and jumped to her feet, the ledger falling to the floor and splaying face down. In the dim light her cheeks paled and she took a step back. Jasper advanced toward her, but when she fumbled beside her and snatched up the first thing she found—a discarded letter opener—and waved it in front of her, he halted and frowned.

“What the devil are you doing, Miss Turner?”

“Do not come closer!” She brandished the letter opener as if it were a knife. He could have disarmed her in an instant, but she seemed genuinely afraid. “I do not know how you are involved, but I want answers.”

“As do I. What the hell are you doing with my ledger?”

“No!” She pointed the silver letter opener at him. “What are you doing with the Dowry Thieves?”

Jasper slowly backed up so as not to alarm her, and struck a match to ignite the lamp on his desk. Frankie relaxed slightly at the wash of light. “I do not know what you mean.” He walked to the next candelabra and lit that as well, then he turned to face his fierce governess, her hair falling out of her chignon, her glasses sliding down her nose, and a letter opener clenched in her fist. “But you and I need to have a serious discussion.”

Frankie’s lips pressed together. “Do not think you are going to woo and disarm me with those intoxicating eyes.”

Jasper lifted a brow. “ Intoxicating eyes?”

Frankie blushed all the way to the collar of her gown, and Jasper very much wished he could see the flush move across her chest.

“You know what I mean. Do not think you will use your charms to silence me. I demand to know to whom you are paying three hundred pounds every month.”

“You demand to know?” Jasper asked in disbelief. “You demand that your employer explain his business purchases after you have broken into his study and searched through his private papers?”

“When you say it like that it does not sound good, but yes. That is what I demand.”

Jasper didn’t know if he should laugh with incredulity or tear his hair out. “Put the letter opener down, Frankie. I am not going to hurt you.”

The letter opener lowered a fraction. “Are you going to kiss me?”

Jasper leaned against the desk and crossed his arms over his chest. “Do you want me to?” Frankie’s eyes fell to his lips and her blush deepened. Bloody hell. He knew she’d only kissed him earlier to prevent this very moment, but there was no denying they’d both felt something unexpected when their mouths had met. “No one is kissing anyone else until we figure out this mess.”

She gave a sharp nod. “Good. But I am not putting down the letter opener until you explain yourself.”

Jasper never revealed his hand first, but short of physically taking the weapon out of Frankie’s hand, he did not know how else to deal with the situation. If she’d been a man there wouldn’t have even been this much talking. “If I tell you, you will sit down afterward and explain why you are really in my home and why you are looking through my ledger.”

She nodded. “If your response is satisfactory, then you have a deal.”

Jasper suddenly felt uncomfortable, but he refused to fidget and expose his vulnerability. No one knew how he chose to spend a portion of his vast fortune, and he would have preferred to keep it that way. He had an image to uphold; an image that his business and reputation relied on. Except this nosy governess had forced herself into his business and he had no choice but to reveal his closely guarded secret.

Jasper cleared his throat and said, “It goes to the Rock Wharf School.”

Behind her spectacles Frankie’s eyes narrowed. “The what?”

“It’s a school I founded on the wharf. It educates the children of fishmongers, fishermen, and dockworkers.”

“A school,” she repeated. Her hand with the letter opener fell to her side. “A school is expensive, but it would not be that expensive to run.”

Jasper shrugged. “That shows how little you know of the lower classes. Do you think I opened a school and all of the parents were delighted to send their darlings off for a free education? That is not how the world I come from operates. Children are put to work as soon as they can properly help, sometimes as early as the age of four. A child in school is lost income, and there is nary a man or woman who can afford that on the wharf. A large portion of the three hundred pounds goes toward paying families to allow their children to attend. Another percentage goes toward my man who makes sure the children are attending and the parents aren’t just pocketing the money and then making the children work anyway. The rest funds the building, heat, clothing, food, texts, ink, teachers, and other supplies.”

Frankie set the letter opener on the side table. “You are educating them?”

Jasper’s back stiffened. “They deserve to have a chance. I was fortunate to have been born with a quick mind for math and an even better memory.” It had been his uncanny memory and penchant for ruthlessness that had been his ticket off the wharf, but they had also been the reasons others found him so difficult to befriend, much less love. Not even his own family had loved him. Unfortunately, he was sure far too many children felt the same way. “Most of the children on the wharf are not as lucky, but that does not mean they do not deserve a shot at a life with more promise than working themselves to death for food and coal. Those children are not worth any less than a lord’s child, no matter what the peerage—or any governess—may believe.”

To his surprise, Frankie crossed the room and took his hands in hers. She wasn’t wearing gloves and neither was he, and the skin-on-skin contact was electrifying. Her hands were smooth and soft in his harder, calloused ones. “You misunderstood me, Mr. Jones. I was only trying to make sense of it. I think it is a wonderful idea. You are right; every child deserves a bright future.”

Her words seared through him, branding his soul. Jasper lived on no one’s approval, and yet he found that the approval in those blue eyes meant more to him than anything had in a long time.

“If your only clandestine monetary transaction is funding a school for children, why all the secrecy around your study?” Frankie asked. “In truth you only make it that much more enticing. After hearing that one must never enter your study, all one wants to do is enter your study. Do you not understand the contrary nature of humans? You would do better to leave it alone rather than declaring it forbidden to every person who crosses your path.”

Jasper glared at her. “The contrary nature of some humans, my governess being the most contrary of them all. My study is forbidden because I insist on complete discretion when it comes to my clientele’s financial states and gambling debts. It is why the ledger is kept here, in my personal house, under lock and key. Although it appears my security is lacking after all.”

“You know, Mr. Jones,” Frankie said thoughtfully, “one way toward achieving academic excellence in your school is to impart a fine understanding of mathematics. If you do not have a mathematics teacher for the children, I—”

Jasper slid one hand up her arm, and the words caught in Frankie’s throat. “We can talk about that later,” he murmured. “I have upheld my end of the bargain. Now it is your turn.”