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

Chapter 46

U ncle Jasper, you must stop staring at Miss Turner like that.” Cecelia’s sausage curls dangled like fringe from a lampshade, and when he gave her an extra swing they fanned out from her scalp.

“How am I staring at her?”

“Like you want to throw her on the back of your horse and gallop away.”

It wasn’t that far off the mark. Ever since Frankie had nearly taken a bullet, he’d thought of nothing other than how to keep her safe so that he could spend the rest of her long life telling her every day how much she meant to him.

He was not sorry he’d told her he loved her earlier that afternoon. It would have come out eventually, and as Jasper had already come to realize, he had little desire to keep secrets from Frankie. But maybe he hadn’t needed to spring everything on her at once: love, children, and lets-grow-old-together all in one bundle was a lot for anyone to take in. Hell, it had even been a shock to him to discover he felt that way. He should have known when he told her he loved her that she would not say it back.

That didn’t mean it didn’t sting. In life Jasper always went for it all. He had not wanted a gaming hell; he had wanted the most successful gaming hell. He had not striven to live comfortably; he’d wanted to buy crystal chandeliers and outrageously expensive Scotch. Jasper never did anything half-measure, but with Frankie he had shown his cards and she had said thank you . For the first time in his life, he was willing to take what he could get, because he could not imagine a life without her, even if she was never able to love him the way he loved her.

“I am staring at her because Lord Falmouth is behaving boorishly.” He glared across the floor at the earl, who was grinning with far too many teeth as he danced with Frankie.

Cecelia stepped out of sync with the music, but what she lacked in skill she made up for in enthusiasm, and each one of her steps was executed with confidence and gusto. Jasper was a strong-enough dance partner to keep her contained, but he feared for the man who was not and risked being spun into a column.

The ballroom dance floor was packed with guests. Most of the men were wound tight from the earlier hunt and news of the murder, and were imbibing more than they typically might. The remaining seven Scott Silver investors were tight-lipped and pale. If Devon’s murder had been a message to them, they’d received it loud and clear. The women, having experienced the boredom of a long morning of croquet followed by the stunning violence of the afternoon, were bright-eyed and eager to talk. The result was a crackling energy that was not unlike the mood in Rockford’s on a full moon.

The Houndsburys had spared no expense for the crowning event of their house party, and unlike Cecelia’s soirée at his house, the ton would not make digs about the mountains of food in the anteroom or the excessive amount of liquor and champagne being freely poured. It was rather the opposite: because Houndsbury was a duke, they expected nothing less.

Lady Houndsbury had engaged a double quartet, and the musicians must have been affected by the energy in the room because the music was loud and lively. Six glass-bead chandeliers dripped from the barrel-vaulted ceiling and reflected prisms across the waxed wooden floor. The ballroom was stuffy despite the opened doors, and the resulting perspiration enhanced the floral perfumes and licorice-scented colognes so that the dance floor was a dizzying sensory assault. Jasper had always moved easily within crowds, and he found tonight’s atmosphere as intoxicating as another man might find liquor to be. Cecelia clearly felt the same, because her cheeks were red and her eyes were sparkling.

And yet beneath the buzz of energy, darker currents swirled: fear, danger, and imminent violence. Jasper had, on occasion, felt it in his own club, and it was always a race to identify the brewing conflict and neutralize it before it came to a head.

Tonight was much the same, except this time Frankie’s life might be on the line. He’d wanted to keep her close to his side, but in typical fashion she had calmly stated her low chances of being murdered in a ballroom full of people, and swished away.

“Lord Falmouth is not being boorish, Uncle Jasper. He is dancing with a stiff back and stiff arms, and that seems appropriate to me.”

“It is not how he is holding her, it is how he is looking at her.” Jasper clenched his teeth together. Lord Falmouth was gazing at Frankie with such calculating lust that it was taking everything Jasper had not to walk over there and smack the thought right out of the man’s head.

Cecelia released his hand, did a tight little spin, and then jumped back into his arms. “Miss Turner can take care of herself. You know what I think? I think she agreed to marry you to save her reputation, but you agreed to marry her because you love her.”

The remark was, once again, all too astute. “You are correct.”

“Now before you deny it, I saw how—wait, what ?”

“You are correct. I love Miss Turner and I told her so today.”

Cecelia sighed dreamily. “Someday I hope I make a man look as sick as you do right now, Uncle Jasper.”

When the music ended Jasper kissed Cecelia on the cheek and took her hand. “Let’s go steal Frankie.”

“Uncle Jasper, I cannot dance with both of you.”

“I am not leaving you alone tonight.”

Cecelia tugged on her hand. “I will stay in the ballroom, I promise. Please, Uncle Jasper. This is my first time at a crush like this, and I could not bear it if all anyone talked about after was how Mr. Jones towed around his niece like she was still in leading strings.”

“I assure you that is not what people will be talking about.” Still, she made a fair argument. It was the same one Frankie had made an hour earlier when she’d blithely left his side. Jasper ground his teeth together. “Fine. I am trusting you to stay in the crowd, Cecelia. If you feel even a prickle of unease you come straight to me. And for the love of God, do not dance with one of the seven remaining Scott Silver investors.”

Cecelia stuck her nose in the air. “I would not go near them with a ten-foot pole.”

“I will be watching you.”

“When aren’t you?” she retorted, and spun on her heel.

Adolescents!

Jasper made his way through the crowd of people who were searching for their next dance partners. Frankie was still talking with Lord Falmouth, and beside them stood Lady Evelyn and her father, Lord Elmsdale. Evelyn looked as comfortable in the ballroom as a Scot looked on horseback, and her cheeks were flushed prettily with the heat. She had inherited her poise from her father, the Earl of Elmsdale. Elmsdale was impeccably turned out in black evening wear accented by diamond cuff links and a silk cravat the color of pure snow. Gray patches at his temples and lines at his eyes were the only indications that he was thirty years older than his daughter. Although Elmsdale was a member at Jasper’s club, Jasper rarely spoke with the man. The lord never gambled, seeming content with the fine meals and brandy-led discussions in smoke-filled rooms. Jasper had not seen Elmsdale before tonight, which meant he must have arrived that evening. The duke was allowing guests to enter, but not leave. Jasper mentally crossed the earl off his list of suspects; a man who was traveling from London could not have pulled the trigger on Devon late last night.

Frankie finally took her leave of Lord Falmouth, and Jasper stepped beside her. Leaning close to her ear he said, “This gown would look better lying on my chamber floor.”

Frankie burst out laughing.

“That was not the reaction I was hoping for.”

She pressed her fist to her chest where the thin, silver chain disappeared between her breasts. He knew his ring was on the end of it, and it gave him an odd, savage sense of satisfaction that she still wore it.

“Sor—sorry,” she gasped in between peals of laughter. Her merriment was drawing more than a few gazes, including that of Lady Evelyn. He knew some of the guests would admire Frankie’s resilience after her near-death experience that afternoon, while others would whisper that only a woman with an addled brain could laugh that hard mere hours after someone had attempted to kill her. “How many women have you said that to, Jasper?”

He started to say none, and then realized that might not exactly be true. Chagrined, he said, “I shall spend the rest of my life coming up with original ways to ask you to disrobe.”

She wiped her eyes underneath her glasses. “I shall enjoy that.”

“Dance with me.”

“Jasper, we have already danced once, and it is inappropriate for—

“ Dance with me .”

“Fine. One more dance.”

Jasper pulled her close for the waltz, curving one palm around her waist and interlacing the fingers of his other hand with her own.

“That is not how you are supposed to hold my hand.”

Jasper stepped forward as the musicians struck the first chord. He gave her a wolfish, barely civilized smile as his fingers stroked her lower back, picturing her as she had been earlier that day: blindfolded and open to him, her body writhing and shuddering beneath his touch.

“Stop looking at me like that,” she whispered.

“Like what?”

“Like you are thinking of me in the nude.”

“But I am.”

Frankie bit her lip and leaned forward. “What a coincidence, because I am thinking of you in the nude as well.”

Jasper fought the urge to sweep her into his arms and carry her up to his chamber. Since that was not an option with a murderer among them and Cecelia to care for, he nudged her closer, and she relaxed into his arms like softened wax. They fit together perfectly, the silky top of her blond head just below his chin, her rose-scented warmth enveloping his senses, the curves of her body sinking into the hard planes and angles of his. He had thought he was a man fitted to a lifetime of bachelorhood, but it turned out he had only been waiting for Frankie.

“What are you thinking about?” Frankie asked, peering up at him. The lenses of her spectacles reflected the chandeliers overhead, refracting the candlelight into showers of golden dots.

Jasper spun her in a tight circle. “I am thinking I have not seen a single scrap of sapphire-blue silk tonight.”

“Neither have I. While I dressed this evening, I made a list of all the guests who are also members of Parliament.”

“How many?”

She screwed up her nose. “More than thirty. But, Jasper, I cannot shake the feeling that I am missing something right in front of me.”

That made two of them.

The music ended and Jasper reluctantly released her. “Do not leave the ballroom.”

“I will not.” Frankie shuddered. “I would not care for another attempt on my life.”

The third son of a marquess immediately claimed Frankie for the next dance. As Jasper watched them meld into the crowd, a woman said at his shoulder, “It would be proper for a gentleman to ask his future mother-in-law to dance.”

He turned and bowed to Mrs. Turner, knowing the time had come for him to face her disapproval. Her ball gown was modestly cut and a rich chocolate color, her gray-threaded hair expertly styled, and her throat accented with a single ruby pendant dangling on a velvet ribbon. Again, he was struck by the differences between mother and daughter. Although both were beautiful in their own ways, he never would have guessed they shared blood if it were not for a few shared features.

The music started, and he stepped forward while Mrs. Turner did the same, exchanging positions in smooth adherence to the steps of the dance. Mrs. Turner’s expression was unreadable, her mouth set, and Jasper steeled himself for the sharp edge of her tongue.

But it seemed she had the same ability as her daughter to surprise him, because when she spoke, the words were not what he’d expected. “You defended my daughter in front of the Duke of Houndsbury today.”

Jasper’s dark brows lifted.

“Why?”

“Because Frankie is incredible, and everyone should know it.”

“She is not like other women.”

“No, she is not. Thank heavens.”

Mrs. Turner twisted, her skirt wrapping around her body before falling back into place, and she lifted her gloved hand to press it against his. “Someone shot at my daughter today and you saved her life. I do not often have occasion to admit that I am wrong, but I am beginning to think that you are not all your reputation makes you out to be.”

Jasper considered how to respond and decided only the bare truth would suffice. “I am not perfect, Mrs. Turner. I have committed my share of misdeeds, but I love your daughter, and for the rest of my life I will work to ensure her every happiness.”

Frankie’s mother gave a crisp nod. “She loves you, too, I think.”

“I am not sure she does. I am not even sure she believes she is lovable.”

“Perhaps some of that is my fault. I can see by the look in your eyes you agree. I have done what I thought was best for Francis but… mayhap I did not handle her the way she needed. She and her sister are so odd, so very much like their great-aunt Salome, that I simply did not know what to do with them. I do love them, though.”

Jasper was aware of Frankie dancing a distance away, and knew she was probably dying to hear what he and her mother were discussing.

Mrs. Turner sighed. “I fear you will have to undo some of the damage I have inflicted. Francis could use someone on her side. I have not always been that person.”

The music ended but Jasper said, “I will always be on her side.”

“Make sure of that, Mr. Jones. I am entrusting her life in your hands.” She nodded once, and some of the pressure in Jasper’s chest eased. He doubted he and Mrs. Turner would ever have an overly friendly relationship, but they had forged a tentative alliance for Frankie. Frankie’s family was important to her, especially her sister, and Jasper would do all he could to help her strengthen those relationships.

He scanned the ballroom for Cecelia and spotted her dancing enthusiastically with a young baron whose cheeks were flushed with the exertion of keeping up with her. Jasper was about to head toward Frankie again—drawn like a moth to a flame, he thought with an exasperated shake of his head—when a soft voice spoke behind him. “I require an audience with you, Mr. Jones.”

He turned around. “I have nothing to say to you, Lady Evelyn.”

“Please,” she pleaded. “I wish to make amends. I left Miss Turner alone while we were playing sardines, and I never should have. It is my fault you are betrothed to her now.”

“Your apology is not necessary. You were a victim as well, my lady.”

Lady Evelyn laid a gloved hand on his arm and looked beseechingly upward. “I will not rest easy until I have cleared my conscience. Do not be so cruel as to deny me.”

Jasper sighed internally. “Very well. Say what you wish.”

“Not in here,” she implored, “on the balcony.”

Jasper checked again to make sure Cecelia and Frankie were both safely engaged among the crowd before he followed Evelyn through the crush of perspiring, jostling bodies, and onto the balcony. The clouds had swept out, leaving the velvet night sky studded with stars. They were not the only ones seeking respite from the heat of the ballroom; in fact, there were so many couples on the balcony that it was nearly as crowded as the dance floor.

“Come,” Lady Evelyn said, heading toward the stairs. They led into the gardens, but Jasper would be damned if he followed her into the jungle of blooms. He came to a hard halt at the foot of the steps when she would have started toward the garden path.

“This is far enough,” he said flatly.

Lady Evelyn’s ball gown was a sedate navy, but the moonlight washed it into a pale gray. She sighed and walked back to him. “Very well, Mr. Jones. I have asked you out here so that I can apologize away from prying eyes. The things I have said about Miss Turner in the past were cruel and careless, and I never should have left her alone during the game of sardines.” The apology sounded fluid and sincere, but her expression was far from contrite. In the pale moonlight, her eyes were as cunning as ever. Unease niggled in the back of Jasper’s mind.

“Again, your apology is not necessary, but if it makes you feel better, I will accept it.”

“Mr. Jones, I have brought you out here for more than the opportunity to make amends. I must ask, and please do not mistake my motivations because I ask only for your benefit, what do you really know about your betrothed? I understand you offered marriage out of honor, but you must be aware there are ways out of a betrothal. You could do better than an awkward and troublesome governess.”

Jasper’s instincts were buzzing louder by the moment and would not be ignored. The word troublesome tumbled over in his mind. “What makes you think she is troublesome?”

“Surely you can see how she riles the men with her uncouth mathematics displays and talk of equality. It is a woman’s duty to provide a beautiful home, robust heirs, and polite conversation. Many doctors warn that a woman risks becoming barren if she engages with the sciences. I would not be surprised to learn that Miss Turner is already unable to have children, and I would not wish that for you. I would never forgive myself if I did not warn you about who you have taken as your betrothed.” She tapped her folded fan to his breastbone and slowly dragged it down his chest. “There are other women more suited to the position of Mrs. Jones. Other women like me.”

Jasper caught Evelyn’s wrist in a firm grasp. “Not in this lifetime, my lady.”

Lady Evelyn’s eyes shifted as something over his shoulder drew her attention, and then they widened in horror.

Jasper felt the brush of air at his back a split second before pain exploded in his skull, and the stars in the night sky faded.