LITMIR.BIZ

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silently urging him to confide in her once more, but as fast as the old Jasper appeared he was gone, covered by the smooth gallant who’d embraced her this afternoon. ‘Come on, the Jane I used to know wouldn’t have shied away from an adventure.’

      He was right. She’d always been the one to drag the Charton brothers into mischief. How things had changed. Milton had turned out to be a bigger rat than the ones shuffling along the garden wall, Jasper had gone off to find his life and Jane was still waiting for hers. Tonight she would have it. ‘All right, I’ll go with you.’

      She took the garment, her fingers brushing his before she pulled back. It was as fleeting a touch as a raindrop, but it doused any remaining reservations she might have about going with him. This was dangerous, not in a get-with-child way, but in a lose-your-head-and-be-hurt-again sort of way. However, while they were together tonight there was still a chance to change his mind.

      She snapped out the dress then lowered it to step inside, very aware of how bending over revealed the tops of her full breasts above the stays and how keenly he watched her. She hid her sly smile by focusing on doing up the tapes. Let him be tempted and then try to tell her he wanted none of it. She didn’t believe him or the salaciousness of his secret. They were rarely as interesting or as awful as people painted them.

      When she was done dressing and had donned a sturdy pelisse, he held out his hand to her, his fingers long and his palm wide. ‘Are you ready?’

      Her heart raced as the old memories collided with the coming thrill of a new adventure. She hadn’t felt this excited or daring in ages. She slipped her hand in his, drawing in a sharp breath as his fingers closed around hers. ‘Yes.’

      * * *

      ‘You can’t marry me because of a warehouse?’ Jane stared up at the squat building, the mouldy stench of the nearby Thames River making her wrinkle her nose. ‘These don’t frighten me. Philip owns a few.’

      ‘It’s not the warehouse, it’s what’s inside.’ He fiddled with a small iron ring, making the keys hanging off it clatter together.

      ‘Unless you have bodies for the anatomists stacked in there, I very much doubt it. Even then, I could probably do something with them.’

      ‘I don’t doubt you could.’ He shot her an appreciative smile as he unlocked the door and pushed it open. ‘But I’m not a resurrectionist.’

      ‘Good, it’s a rather smelly business.’ She strode through the small door set beside the larger one used to load and unload freight.

      He joined her in the darkness of the warehouse, drawing the door closed behind them. Slivers of moonlight fell in through the high windows at the top and the few cracks in the wooden walls, illuminating the dust kicked up by their entrance. The warehouse was nearly empty except for a few paintings in large, gilded frames leaning against a far wall. They were kept company by an overly ornate set of bergère chairs, a few crates and a wide but dismantled four-poster bed. ‘Shouldn’t there be more here? It seems a waste to pay rent to store so little.’

      ‘They’re the last of what I brought back from America. I sold the rest. Besides, storage isn’t the only thing I use this building for, as you’re about to see. Come along.’ He led her through a narrow door at the far end, past empty crates without their lids and bits of straw littering the floor around them.

      Beneath the steady cadence of his boots, Jane caught the dim sound of laughter and footsteps from somewhere overhead. She thought she was imagining it until Jasper opened another door to reveal a narrow staircase. More laughter and voices drifted down from upstairs. ‘Are you having a gathering in a warehouse?’

      ‘You could say that.’ He avoided her eyes as he slid the keys back in his pocket.

      ‘Jasper Charton, are you running a house of ill repute?’

      His head jerked up. ‘No, at least not the kind you’re imagining. Even if I was, don’t appear so excited. It isn’t right for you to be so thrilled at the idea.’

      ‘It isn’t right for me to be in a warehouse with a single man in the middle of the night either...’ she threw open her arms ‘...and yet here I am.’

      ‘Yes, here you are.’ He pulled his lips to one side in displeasure, as if his plan wasn’t unfolding quite as he’d imagined. Good. It’d be a welcome change to have someone else’s plans go awry instead of hers.

      ‘Well, are you going to show me?’

      ‘I’m debating it.’

      ‘The time for that has passed.’

      ‘I suppose it has. Come on then.’ Jasper took her hand, his fingers tight around hers as he started up the stairs. She held on to him, the pressure of his skin against hers making her a touch dizzy as they climbed to the first floor. Her curiosity increased with each step as she tried to guess what he’d brought her here to see. She hoped it wasn’t just warehousemen relaxing over cards after a long day. She was tired of disappointments. There’d been too many of them lately.

      They stepped into the hall and stopped before a closed door. Light slipped out from under it along with muffled conversation and the faint aroma of pipe smoke. She studied the light beneath the wood, noting how it dimmed and brightened as someone on the other side passed between the source and the door. She waited anxiously for him to open it and reveal what was on the other side, but instead he led her past it to the far end of the hall. She could see the dark recess of an opening and the top of another, much wider, staircase leading back down to the ground floor and the front of the building. It was quiet here, the sounds drifting out of the other room muffled more than they should be in an old place like this. There was also nothing here except a lantern on a metal hook breaking up the endless line of knotted planked wall. She wondered if he meant to lead her back into the warehouse when he reached up and pushed aside the wide plate connecting the metal base to the lamp. It exposed a brass ring hidden behind it.

      Now he really had her attention.

      He pulled the ring and a portion of the planked wall popped open, revealing a door concealed by the wood and the darkness.

      ‘Impressive,’ Jane conceded, jealous. As children, they’d dreamed of having a secret room of their own. The empty space beneath the stairs in the Charton house was the closest they’d come, but every adult had known about it, along with every servant who used to check there first whenever they couldn’t find them.

      ‘Don’t compliment me yet.’ He unlocked the door and led her into an office far more opulent than Philip’s. Gilt-framed paintings adorned the far wall and an elaborate peacock inkwell punctuated the lustrous blotter. Sumptuous leather furniture complemented the narrow-legged burled-wood desk and added to the gaudy wealth of the decor.

      ‘Are you sure you’re not running a house of ill repute because your office is decorated like one.’

      ‘This came from my uncle’s house in Savannah. He had a penchant for gaudy furniture. I sold the worst of it a while back.’

      She hated to think what the rest of it looked like if this was the most conservative. She was about to say so when he faced her, as serious as a bailiff. ‘Promise me, no matter what happens between us, you won’t reveal to anyone what I’m about to show you.’

      She didn’t share his sense of gravitas. ‘Your accounting books?’

      He ignored her humour and took her hands. His eyes bored into hers with a severity she’d only seen the morning they’d laid her parents to rest. It turned her as serious as him. ‘I brought you here because I can trust you, I always could, and I need someone to confide in. I thought I could do it with Milton, but he’s proven himself unworthy.’ A stricken look crossed his face, reminiscent of the one Philip had worn the morning Arabella, his first wife, had died after giving birth to their son Thomas. ‘Promise me.’

      She imagined the loss of his closeness with Milton might be to blame for the darkness colouring his eyes, yet deep down she suspected it wasn’t. ‘I promise.’

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