Chapter 7
CHAPTER 7
A maid and footman entered the dining room carrying plates of what looked to Jasper like braised pigeons and potato pie. It was rather similar fare to what Jasper had been able to afford of late.
The scent of savoury spices reached his nose, replacing the scent of rolls and cream, which had been their first course, and his stomach growled in response. The first course had scarcely grazed the surface of his appetite.
From her seat at his right, Maria murmured her thanks to the maid as her meal was placed before her. A ripple of awareness and heat travelled up his arm and along his chest, as it had repeatedly done since they’d taken their seats. She was still abnormally sedate, though he could understand why. Her family seemed to delight in monopolizing the conversation.
“This is not our usual fare, Your Grace,” Mrs. Roberts was saying. “Nothing so homely. But our usual cook has taken ill and, well, we must accept what her replacement has prepared for us.”
“Oh, how awful for Mrs. Wells,” Maria breathed, her brow furrowed.
Mrs. Roberts sharpened her gaze on Maria. “Yes, well, she ought to take better care.”
Jasper lifted his fork and turned his attention to his plate.
“Have you been married before, Duke?” a voice trilled. Jasper noted that it was the sister with the dark brown hair and hawk-like nose—Augusta?
“Augusta!” Maria chided.
The young lady scowled at her sister, evidently unaware of the impropriety of the inquiry and familiar address. She then preened as she turned her flirtatious gaze back on Jasper.
He resisted the urge to frown, swallowing his bite of sweet potato pie. “I have not previously been married.”
Maria’s sisters eyed each other meaningfully from across the table, then both turned to gaze adoringly at him.
“Why did you choose Maria?” the other sister—Caroline—inquired, her nose wrinkled. “She’s dreadfully boring.”
Maria stiffened in her seat beside him.
“And old,” Augusta put in.
Jasper opened his mouth to refute their assertions, but Mrs. Roberts’ rebuke cut over him.
“ Girls !” Masticated food sprayed from her mouth, and Jasper cringed.
Mr. Roberts turned to him with a brandy-hazed smile. “How pleasing it shall be to have a son at last.”
“You have a son, Papa,” Maria said firmly. “He?—”
“We have a guest, Maria.” Her mother’s frigid gaze had enough strength to send a chill down Jasper’s back.
He’d heard something about her brother, but damn him if he could recall what that was. Had he been injured in the war? Hell, he couldn’t remember. Would that he had paid attention when Juliana spoke of her friends, but for far too many years he’d shirked his role of brother and confidant.
This wasn’t the first time that his past poor attentiveness had impacted his present, and nor was it likely to be the last. But he now had the presence of mind to learn from his mistakes.
The servants swept through and removed his half-consumed plate. He wasn’t finished, his hunger only minimally appeased, but if it would conclude the meal, Jasper was content to let the food go.
Under the guise of adjusting the napkin on his lap, Jasper brushed the backs of his fingers over the side of Maria’s thigh in a show of unity.
Her breath caught, and his stomach swooped. He instantly wanted more of that delicious contact, but the moment was entirely inopportune.
He cleared his throat. “I look forward to spending more time in Maria’s company.”
Mrs. Roberts smiled at him. “I’m sure she feels the same.”
“Yes, yes,” Mr. Roberts added in between gulps of his brandy. “Perhaps she will spend fewer hours toiling away with her charity groups if she has a nice young man to dote on her.”
Charity . The word rolled through his mind as Miss Morgan’s words from the previous night came to him. Would you believe me if I informed you that Miss Roberts spends the entirety of her days doing charity work? … Aha! Gullible! Most men are utter fools, and will believe any nonsense that doesn’t challenge them.
He glanced down at Maria, who was suspiciously diverted by the silverware. With what, precisely, did she fill her days, if not charity and work as a runner? Was there more ?
The longer he remained in the Roberts’ company, the better Jasper felt he understood Maria. Her sisters, newly out, were young and vibrant but quarrelsome and contemptuous. Their mother, while loving in her own way, was vulgar and rather uncivilized, and Mr. Roberts was a greedy inebriate. Was it any wonder that Maria wished to seek employment as a runner?
Their meal concluded with a nauseatingly sweet fruitcake so dense that he struggled to remove it from the roof of his mouth. He swallowed it down with the remainder of his port, and smiled along with the Roberts’ inane chatter.
Finally able to make his excuses, they said their farewells before the family allowed Jasper precisely what he’d desired all evening: a few minutes alone with Maria.
The strident voices of Maria’s sisters and mother faded down the hall, followed closely by the lumbering footsteps of Mr. Roberts, and Jasper’s shoulders relaxed slightly.
Maria watched him warily, her grey eyes troubled. “Might I speak with you in the parlour, Your Grace?”
“Of course.”
He followed her across the hideously floral foyer and into an equivalently patterned parlour.
She spun to face him. “I must apologize for my family?—”
“It’s quite all right.”
“No,” she asserted, “it is not. I will understand if you should decide to jilt me once the assignment has concluded and Francis’ trial has once again come to an end. As a matter of fact, I would be rather astonished if you didn’t.”
Bloody hell, she was offering him a way out. Something twisted alarmingly in his chest and tingled in his fingertips. “I’ll not abandon our agreement.”
“I imagine that your opinion on the matter will change after prolonged exposure to my family.”
Her family , his mind whispered, once more piquing his curiosity about the moment of tension between Maria and her parents at the table. He wanted to ask her about her mysterious brother but, despite his tenacious interest, there was something more pressing on his mind.
He stepped close, the suddenly warm space between them growing thick with anticipation. His gaze dropped to her full lips and his stomach erupted with nervous buzzing. And hope. Despite imagining this moment more times than he could count, he’d not once believed it would come to fruition.
Now was his moment.
He breathed deeply of her scent of ink, parchment, and soap, letting it drift through his senses. Maria was not a woman for the superfluous, and somehow the absence of bottled perfume was bloody arousing.
Heat warmed him just beneath his skin as he ran his fingertips along her jaw. Grey-blue eyes flickering, Maria’s breath hitched.
“May I kiss you, Maria?”
* * *
Jasper’s low, hushed voice sent tremors of awareness through her and gooseflesh spreading across her skin. There was no denying it: she craved his kiss. She wanted to have him against her, to feel his skin on hers. Damn, but the man was maddening!
“Yes,” she breathed.
She had only the time to blink before his mouth pressed gently to hers.
It was the softest touch of skin, but it spread waves of heat swiftly through her body. She gasped, and Jasper groaned, deepening the kiss. Good heavens , but his tongue! With long, languid strokes, he teased her senses and urged her to reply in kind. So she did.
Clasping his lapels, she flicked his tongue with hers, tasting and exploring. Lord, but he tasted like sugar and fruit. She wanted more.
His arms slid around her, his warmth seeping through the material between them feeling hot against her skin. He pulled her close against him, the hardening ridge of his manhood pressing insistently against the soft belly above her mons. He moaned deep in his throat, and Maria felt a surge of tingling pride. The knowledge that she was the one to cause his state of discomfort was more empowering than she could have imagined.
Just as swiftly as the kiss began, it ended. Jasper released her, retreating a step, and her body felt abruptly chilled by his absence.
She blinked, confusion and arousal tumbling through her.
“I shall make the announcement with the papers, and I shall see you on the morrow,” he said, his voice thick.
She gave him a nod, and was only dimly aware of his departure. Lord, but the man could kiss!
“How could you do that to us?” Her mother’s piercing voice came from the parlour’s entrance, and Maria winced.
Turning, she watched her mother walk stiffly toward her, her curls bouncing.
“How do you expect us to make a favourable impression if you do not give us advance notice that we will have a duke join us for our evening meal? A duke , Maria!” She turned her face up to the ceiling and placed her hands upon her chest. “Oh, what he must think of us! Braised pigeon and potato bloody pie ?” Her eyes fairly bulged as the volume of her voice rose. “And who shall become chaperone for your dear cousin and companion to your aunt? Whatever shall I say to them?”
Maria frowned, her heart pinching. “Were you hoping that I would not find a match? That I would be forced to?—”
“Do not say such nasty things,” her mother hissed.
“I’m merely stating my observations.”
“ Hssst ! Watch your tongue, girl! I’ll not have such insolence in my home.”
As though popping a bubble, the fight fled Maria. It had been a trying day, and all at once, she desired the comfort of her bed.
“Please excuse me, Mama. I have the headache and wish to go to bed.”
Abruptly, the scorn in her mother’s eyes turned to malevolent delight. “I would advise you to get your beauty rest, but we all know that would prove fruitless. You’re too much like your father’s dreadful relations. But best keep up appearances if you wish to garner some attention this season. Lord knows the duke will likely jilt you before you reach your wedding day.”
With a nod, Maria turned away from her mother. Fatigue and discomfort slowed her steps as she made her way to her bedchamber. Abruptly, the frock she’d donned no longer felt correct, her chemise and petticoats wrong against her skin. Would that she had some of her men’s attire at home in which to sleep.
She expanded her lungs as far as her corset would allow and blew the breath out in a whoosh .
Tomorrow would dawn another long day, which included her first shift in Jasper’s home. She had a task to accomplish. And…part of her hoped that he would find the opportunity to kiss her again. Warmth flooded her belly at the thought.
Have a care, Maria , she cautioned herself. She must remember to guard herself from the man’s palpable charms, no matter how delicious his kisses.
Moving slowly through her bath and her ablutions, Maria allowed her mind to wander. Biddable, Jasper was not, but beddable … How long would their kisses have lasted had he not pulled away? Little prickles of delight warmed her from within. She ought to have run her hands through his hair. Is it as smooth as it appears?
Her bed had been turned down, the bedclothes crisp and cool against her flushed skin. She wanted nothing more than to return to Jasper’s arms and lock her lips with his, their tongues entangled and her body pressed against his hardness…and that was precisely why she mustn’t ruminate on it for one moment more. She was on assignment now and had an important task at hand.
But although her determination was firmly in place, her last thought before she fell asleep was of the sweet taste of fruits upon Jasper’s tongue.
* * *
“ Grace! ” Harriet exclaimed breathlessly as she darted into the training room, nervously toying with the ties of her evening cloak.
Grace put up a hand to halt her gentle sparring instructions with Juliana. “Harriet? Whatever is the matter?”
The young recruit gulped air and gestured wildly with her hands as she drew near. “My client’s estranged husband has followed our trail as far as the Swallow and Cross Inn. I cannot possibly risk her safety by continuing on with our plan—most particularly as the evening grows darker. We must have an alternate course.”
“I see,” Grace returned, her nerves calm and her mind racing with possibilities. “Fetch Isadora and return to your client’s side; she mustn’t be left alone from now on. Take the road north toward Leeds and ask for ‘Black Bear’ at the Goat’s Horn Tavern. I’ll send word to an acquaintance in Brampton who can arrange shelter for the three of you there. Additional funds are on my desk in a satchel with an embroidered L . Send word once you arrive.”
Harriet huffed a grateful sigh and dipped in a shallow curtsey. “Thank you, Grace.”
Grace nodded, and the woman dashed from the room.
“You’ve begun something wonderful here, Grace,” Juliana remarked, resuming her position on the sparring mat. “I’m proud to be a runner for you.”
Emotion swelled in Grace’s chest, and she smiled, glancing around the room. Their sparring dummies were naught but burlap jute and hay surrounding a wood structure, and their wall of weaponry was sparse, but she had done a great deal with the space and was proud of the progress.
“Thank you, Juliana. There is much yet to accomplish before we will be in smooth working order, but I’m so pleased that even our smallest cases are impacting women’s lives positively.”
“Certainly.” Juliana eyed her sympathetically. “I’ve sensed some frustration from you with regard to Maria’s case. Are you well?”
“I am.” Brushing a fallen lock of hair from her forehead, Grace grinned thoughtfully. “I trust Maria entirely. She’s determined and, despite having multiple vocations, has proven herself to be an invaluable and intelligent resource for our offices.
“My concern lies with Francis,” she continued, her heart giving a little thwump . “Finding and apprehending someone in London who does not wish to be found will prove a considerable task. There is danger in this assignment and, their willingness to face the risk notwithstanding, I worry over everyone’s safety.” Her lips quirked. “That said, I imagine Maria’s greatest challenge will, in fact, be the duke.”
A light laugh escaped Juliana. “Indeed. Maria has adamantly denied her love for my brother since we were children.”
Grace’s grin widened. “I daresay he feels much the same.”
“’Struth!”
“Now, we resume.” Grace adjusted her skirts and lowered her stance. “Copy my movements, and you shall learn what to do if an opponent attempts to strike you with a blade.”
* * *
The sun found its way into the narrow close beside the newspaper offices— The Morning Herald —warming Maria through her grey woollen coat and matching breeches as she descended the step of the hackney. The morning had gone precisely as usual. She’d eaten, dressed, and summoned the carriage with her favoured coachman and footman—whom she paid handsomely to keep her daily whereabouts secret—and rode to Cheapside, where she left them. Thomas had remained asleep while she changed for her day of work, and then she’d summoned a hack to bring her there.
She inhaled deeply as she entered, taking in the aroma of paper and ink.
The office was humming with activity, and she inwardly grimaced. Working at The Morning Herald was valuable for experience, and it provided a means to help Thomas, but she rather preferred silence when she wrote.
“Oh! Good morning, Mr. Robertson.” Cordelia smiled at her in greeting, green eyes crinkling in the corners.
Maria returned her smile and touched the brim of her hat before slipping the secretary a piece of folded parchment. “Good morning, Cordelia.”
The woman nodded, curiosity brightening her eyes as she accepted the note and hid it in the folds of her skirts. Maria winked at her and strode away.
Reaching her desk, she found three article requests from her superiors, as well as several leads on where to find information. She placed her hat on a nearby hook and settled in to do her work.
Despite the noise, she was soon lost in her writing, the words flowing swiftly from her, the gentle scratch of her pen filling her ears. Before long, two of her articles had been completed, and she was working on her third.
Loud murmuring broke through her focus and drew her notice. The men in the desks around her spoke softly to each other, their attention fixed on the office’s entrance. There stood four men in conversation at Cordelia’s desk. Two of them—unquestionably fellow writers—had their backs to her, and the other two men were obscured by a wall. They spoke animatedly until one of her fellows, Mr. Shoemaker, gestured one of the hidden men toward Shoemaker’s desk.
Her pulse sped and shoulders tightened. It couldn’t be .
They rounded the corner and strode into the room. Mr. Shoemaker’s wide smile was bemused but genuine as he walked past. And following him was the Duke of Derby.
Maria’s breath froze in her throat. If she did not draw attention to herself, perhaps she could take her leave without his seeing her. Surely he would be too preoccupied with his own business to trouble himself with the other workers around him.
She slowly released her breath and unclenched her fists. All that was required was patience, and she could?—
No doubt feeling Maria’s scrutiny, Jasper’s head turned abruptly. His gaze, two-toned and penetrating, met hers as he stood immobile, poised to sit in the proffered chair across from Mr. Shoemaker. Hope fleeing and heart fluttering wildly against her ribs, Maria attempted to keep her expression neutral. Mayhap he would not recognize her.
Just as the thought occurred, his eyes widened.