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

Chapter 24

T here was a stir among the crowd. Frankie would have said more, but Lady Jane, ever the observant hostess, quickly clapped her hands and announced that the evening’s literary entertainment was about to begin.

The crowd dispersed, and Frankie exhaled a sigh of relief. She did not know how popular debutants withstood such scrutiny event after event, Season after Season. Her relief was short-lived when her extremely distant relation, Mr. Farthins, returned to insist on escorting her to her seat, where she found herself wedged between him and Lord Wilson. Jasper was seated farther behind her with his own set of admirers. At least she had managed to make her “controversial statement” before the event began. She was almost certain tongues would be wagging at intermission.

Frankie’s cheeks grew hotter and hotter over the next hour as one erstwhile man after the other stood and directed his flowery poetry in her direction, their eyes rich with romantic sentiment and their words so convoluted that Frankie did not even know what they were saying 90 percent of the time. All the while the back of her neck prickled with the heat of Jasper’s stare.

When, two hours into the program, Lady Jane announced an intermission, Frankie jumped to her feet and was halfway to the door before Mr. Farthins caught up with her. She wanted to scream.

Mr. Farthins gave her an oily, understanding smile. “Might I interest you in a walk in the courtyard?”

“Yes!” Frankie cried. She was desperate for a respite. She had to breathe . She didn’t even care if she had to suffer the company of Mr. Farthins if it meant she could leave the claustrophobia of the room.

The French doors were closed to the flowered courtyard, but beyond the glass, heat-bleached plants whipped with the wind of the oncoming storm.

“Oh drat, I forgot the storm brewing,” Farthins said. “Perhaps we might investigate the library? I hear it is one of the largest libraries in town.”

Frankie was already stepping into the corridor, her slippers soundless on the tile as she rushed from the sitting room without giving a thought to asking Madam Margaret to accompany her. Her golden gown, too tight to begin with, suddenly felt suffocating. She had attended plenty of society events during her four Seasons out, but the events had been smaller, and she had always gone unnoticed. For the first time, she questioned whether she was capable of carrying out the ruse. Never before had she been given so much attention and been under such scrutiny.

When she reached the library, Frankie instantly felt calmer. As Mr. Farthins had claimed, it was a grand room so full of volumes of text that it would have done the queen proud. It smelled of old leather and polish, and Frankie inhaled deeply just as she heard the door click shut.

She spun around in surprise. “Mr. Farthins, please open the door. You forget that it is improper for a young lady to be unchaperoned in a closed room with a gentleman.”

Mr. Farthins stepped closer, the mothball scent of his velvet coat filling her nostrils. He gave her a broad, yellow-toothed smile, and the facade of flattery fell away, leaving his face harsh and twisted.

With a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach, Frankie realized she’d made a grievous error. She’d been so eager to get away from the crowd that she had not even considered that Mr. Farthins might not be a gentleman. She had felt especially confident knowing that the leader of the Dowry Thieves would not have had time to set up an entrapment. That, she realized belatedly, had been a number of costly errors on her part.

“Alas, you are not a lady . You are nothing but the granddaughter of a baron, a governess putting on airs because she struck it lucky.” Mr. Farthins bared more of his teeth. “As your distant cousin, I think it is only fair that I share in your good fortune.”

“What do you want from me?”

Mr. Farthins blinked, reminding her of an eel she’d once observed in a sea exhibit. “Did you know that when your father and I were children, he accused me of stealing from him and then bloodied my nose? He humiliated me in front of our entire family. But that was nothing compared to what he did a decade later, when he swooped in and married the woman I loved.”

Frankie gawked at him. “You—loved my mother?”

“I spotted her across the room at a country ball, and I fell for her instantly. She would have felt the same for me, too, if your father had not begun courting her. He was a half-hour gentleman and she deserved better. But he is dead now, and today I shall walk away with both his daughter and a fortune.” He peered closely at her. “You look more like him than her, but there are enough common details that it will not be hard to pretend you are her.”

Frankie felt ill. “I would never exchange vows with the likes of you, but I will give my mother your regards.” She strode toward the door with all the regal bearing of a duchess, but before she could reach it Farthins snatched her wrist and swung her back, his grip so bruising that she cried out in pain.

“When we are married you will not leave a room before you are dismissed.”

Frankie could not scream to alert anyone for help without also inadvertently compromising herself, so instead she glared at Mr. Farthins, her fear eclipsed by her fury. How dare he threaten her? “If you touch me again, another Turner shall bloody your nose.”

“You little bitch. I shall take great pleasure in teaching you how to treat your better.”

He shoved her against a bookshelf, his breath a sour mix of tea and quail egg refreshments. “Look at me, Miranda.”

“I am not my mother!” His hands pinned Frankie’s shoulders to the bookshelf, and she was pulled too tightly to his sinewy body for her legs to be effective weapons. She was powerless. Except… she had once read a text on human anatomy, and it had included a diagram of an entire skeleton (she had then hidden it beneath her floorboards, knowing she would be punished if she were caught reading something so scandalous). She recalled that the bony protuberance of a human forehead was very thick and hard. With that knowledge in hand, Frankie did the only thing she could think to do: She smashed her forehead into Mr. Farthins’s nose.

Frankie saw stars and her spectacles nearly fell off her face. Mr. Farthins howled in pain, releasing her to cup his nose. Blood spurted between his fingers and dribbled down his hands and arms, staining the fraying cuffs of his coat. Frankie didn’t wait for him to recover; she sprinted to the door and was about to yank it open when Farthins snatched her from behind and threw her back against the bookcase. Droplets of blood splattered on her new golden gown and across the skin of her chest.

“You will pay for this, you—”

Air whooshed across Frankie’s face as Mr. Farthins was ripped away and tossed to the ground. The scuffle that ensued was fast and dirty, and it was nearly over before it had begun. Jasper was precise and ruthless; Mr. Farthins was simply no match for his experienced fists and the fury that propelled them. Frankie could only sag against the bookcase and watch in horrified fascination as Jasper pummeled Mr. Farthins until he slumped unconscious on the floor.

Despite the beating, Jasper was barely breathing hard when he spun around to her, his cravat askew and his eyes wild and dark with rage. He had blood on his knuckles from Farthins’s already-broken nose, but she didn’t flinch from him when he gently cupped her cheek with his palm.

“Are you all right? Did he hurt you?”

Frankie grasped his wrist as if the touch would anchor her to reality. She licked her trembling lips and said, “My head hurts something fearsome. I smashed my forehead into his nose.”

Jasper gently touched his own forehead to hers just as the first boom of thunder rattled the library windows. “There is blood on you.”

“It is his,” she assured him.

“What the hell were you thinking, going off alone with him? That man is vile and a petty thief. I do not know how he dared show his face here today.”

Jasper lifted his head, his eyes searing into hers. His body was pressed against hers, warm and big and hard, and he was cradling her cheek as if she were the most precious thing in the world. His clean, warm scent enveloped her in a soothing cocoon, and Frankie had never felt so safe and confused in her entire life. “I was not thinking,” she admitted.

Jasper growled in frustration. “Do you know how torturous the past two hours have been, watching every man in the city fawn over you?”

“It is because of the dowry.”

“Mayhap that was the initial draw, but I know when a man is truly interested in a woman, and a good number of them have been charmed silly by your crooked grin and clever wit and this damned gown that shows off more curves than a governess ought to have.”

Frankie took a shallow breath. “Why does that bother you?”

Lightning flashed outside the window and the skies opened, releasing a torrent of rain. Drops slashed against the windowpanes and beat on the roof overhead, all while the wind roared down the street with the howl of a freight train.

“Because it is my job to keep you safe, and you are making that difficult by wandering off with loathsome men and enchanting dozens of others. Could you at least pretend to be boring and stupid?”

“I am safe now, Jasper,” she said softly. “You may let me go.”

But rather than backing away, he lifted his other hand to curve around the side of her neck, his body caging hers in a way that made her feel hot and flushed, her skin overly sensitive and her stomach unstable.

“There is no way in hell I’m letting you go, Frankie.” His mouth crashed down on hers.