“I heard about the unfortunate incident at the Royal Academy.” Miss Tolliver shook her head. “How terrifying for Miss Martin! I am certain I would be bedridden for a sennight after such a shock.”
“She is managing extraordinarily well,” he agreed.
“Especially considering the circumstances,” Westfield said, in a confidential tone.
She frowned. “Circumstances?”
The earl leaned closer. “There is some speculation that the rope securing the statue might have been deliberately cut.”
“No!” Her hand went to her throat. “Why would anyone do something so heinous? Especially to Miss Martin.”
“I didn’t say she was the intended target,” he qualified, straightening. “She might simply have been in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
“Well, there is some small comfort in that.” She exhaled audibly. “Deliberately cut, you say. I wonder why?”
She looked away and worried her lower lip with her teeth.
“I wouldn’t dare speculate,” Westfield said. “It’s rarely good to have one’s name associated with such sensational tales.”
“True of us all,” she said gravely, dipping into another curtsy. Miss Tolliver excused herself, and Jasper followed her with his gaze. She headed directly to a group of women.
“She spreads the tale,” Westfield murmured, turning his back to her.
“That’s no proof of innocence. In fact, a clever person might assume that bearing the news to others would lighten suspicion. After all, what reasonable person would air their misdeeds to all and sundry?” Jasper intended to have both Tollivers followed for a time. He would not take any chances.
“Excellent point.”
“What do you know of the investment pool managed by Lord Collingsworth?”
“I participated for a time, but Collingsworth is too conservative for my taste. You might feel similarly.”
How like Eliza to be cautious. Money was vitally important to her, not for what it could buy, but for the measure of freedom and control its possession granted her. “Do you know who the other investors are?”
“A few. Not all. Why?”
“Miss Martin is one of them.”
“Truly?” Westfield’s brows rose. “Wasn’t aware of that. Does that make me a suspect?”
Smiling, Jasper said, “Possibly.”
The earl grabbed a glass of champagne from a passing servant. “How delicious.”
“Not if you’re at fault.” Jasper moved forward.
“Was that a threat, Bond?”
“Not if you are at fault,” he said again. “In that case, it would be a promise.”
“Where are you going?”
“To the card room. Perhaps the scent of desperation will lead me in a new direction.”
“You never answered my question about what you’ll do once you own Montague’s property.” Although Westfield was the public face of the wager that secured the property, Jasper hadn’t revealed why he wanted it.
However, he had no hesitation in revealing what he would do with it. “I will raze the house, then leave England.”
“For parts unknown?”
“Didn’t I tell you?” Jasper looked at him. “I’ve purchased a plantation in the South Seas.”
“Good God.” The earl choked on his champagne. “Only you would find peace living among savages.”
“I think similarly about your life.”
A brilliant shade of sapphire blue in the periphery of Jasper’s vision caught his interest. He turned his head to catch Eliza moving toward one of three sets of French doors leading outside to a wide veranda.
She shot him a look over her shoulder. It was not the calculated look of a practiced flirt. It was simpler and more sincere, betraying pleasure at seeing him and the hope he might follow.
He smiled and inclined his head in acknowledgment.
“I will go ahead without you,” Westfield murmured.
“I’ll only be a moment.”
“You disappoint me, Bond. When a beautiful woman looks at you in that manner, you should need far more time than that.”
Eliza moved toward the nearest exterior exit with the hope that her dark gown would blend somewhat with the darkness of night and provide her a brief spell of anonymity. She felt Jasper’s stare following her and fought the urge to quicken her pace. Not because she wished to avoid him, but because it was instinctive to run when caught in the sights of a hunter.
The anticipation of capture was its own pleasure. The hair on her nape stood on end and gooseflesh covered the parts of her arms exposed above her long gloves. When the warmth of a large hand surrounded her elbow, she couldn’t fight the shiver that moved through her.
“Miss Martin.” Jasper’s deep voice caused a tingling in her stomach. With an easy grip, he led her outdoors to where several guests were paired in quietly voiced conversations. “You might have warned me that you would steal my breath upon sight.”
“Thank you.” Unlike Tolliver’s compliment, Jasper’s praise did not make her feel awkward. Instead, she felt warm and slightly giddy.
“Altering your appearance to goad speculation was an excellent plan.” He looked down at her with warm appreciation. “In case I’ve failed to mention it, I love the way you think.”
Eliza flushed. “Would you admire my intellect less to know I hoped my presentation would impress you as much as my reasoning?”
“No. I would be deeply flattered.”
“I feel silly,” she confessed. “Simply knowing you goads me into acting in ways I normally wouldn’t.”
Jasper smiled, and she found him so handsome it made her chest tighten. “Would it ease your nervousness to know I have second-guessed every aspect of my attire from the knot of my cravat to the shoes on my feet before every meeting I’ve had with you since the first? I believe it’s part of the mating ritual.”
He slowed as they stepped outside the circle of light cast by the ballroom chandeliers. There were torches set around the veranda, but they were spaced at wide intervals to provide just enough illumination to delineate where stone gave way to lawn.
“Part of the charade?” she asked.
“I’ve yet to feign anything with you, Eliza.”
Unsure of how to banter flirtatiously, she moved on to safer topics. “How do you know Lord Westfield?”
“Lucian Remington introduced us one evening.”
She was momentarily surprised Jasper would boast membership in such an exclusive establishment as Remington’s Gentlemen’s Club. Then, she recalled that Lucian Remington was the bastard son of the Duke of Glasser. He was known to allow gentlemen of any background to join his club…so long as they could afford it. The practice was tolerated by those born of higher station because Remington’s was grand on the grandest scale. They were loath to deny themselves such luxury.
“Have you known one another long?”
“Not excessively long, no.”
Although he didn’t move, she sensed the change in him. The sudden alertness. It was similar to being doused by chilled water. She sometimes forgot she and Jasper Bond hardly knew one another, because her overwhelming physical attraction to him fostered an illusion of intimacy.
Eliza deliberately kept her tone light when she said, “Forgive me for prying into your personal matters. They are none of my concern.”
She would do well to follow his example and keep to safer topics in their relations. He worked for her, and an employee was all he would ever be to her. Perhaps it would slow her fascination with him to keep that in mind.
How deeply could one fall when the pool was shallow?
While there was no outward sign of it, Jasper knew Eliza had withdrawn and he’d lost ground with her. Relationships were complications for just that reason-at some point, women expected full disclosure. He found the need mystifying.
But he wasn’t willing to cede any of the progress he had made with Eliza, regardless of the points on which he would have to bend.
“I met him two years ago,” he elaborated. “He finds the work I do interesting and from that interest, we became…friends.”