LITMIR.BIZ

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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.’

      He let go of her and went to a painting of a large house with tall columns hanging on the wall. He swung it aside to reveal a peephole. ‘Come look.’

      * * *

      Jasper held his breath as Jane rose on her tiptoes and pressed her face to the hole. The light spilling out of the room beyond spread over her fine nose and high cheeks, and he caught something of the mischievous imp he’d begun to love before his parents had sent him to America. Except it wasn’t their past captivating him tonight, it was the present. She was so stunning and innocent and he longed to draw her close instead of pushing her away. He couldn’t because she deserved better than a damaged and deceitful man, and it was already too late. There was no stopping Jane from being disgusted by what he was showing her and no way of preventing her from telling everyone if she decided to betray him.

      She won’t. It was the old bond they’d shared in childhood when they used to sneak away from lessons with the bird-like tutor to go and play. It continued to connect them, despite the years they’d spent apart. ‘This is how I make my living.’

      ‘You’re running a gambling hell.’ She pressed her hands against the wall and leaned in closer to the hole.

      He rested her painting on a small hook, then slid aside the portrait of a dog beside hers to view the tables full of men playing cards across the green baize. The cut-crystal lamps hanging over each table cast circles of light to surround them. Men recruited from the nearby slums who’d demonstrated even a modicum of manners moved between the guests to refill brandy glasses and light cigars, and, most importantly, extend credit. ‘Not only do I own the Company Gaming Room, I’m the house bank. The players bet against me and most of the time they lose.’

      A loud cheer went up from across the room as Mr Portland, a rotund man with a long face, threw up his hands in victory. ‘Sometimes, they win.’

      Mr Bronson, a lanky gentleman in a fine suit and a bright red waistcoat, Jasper’s partner in this affair, approached the winner to offer congratulations and payment.

      Jane studied him, but he continued to observe the room, bracing himself for the sneer of disgust he was sure was coming. They’d both been raised to detest gambling as man after man had approached their fathers and brothers for money to cover their debts and save the businesses they were throwing away with the dice. Jasper was contributing to the very thing which had ruined so many, including him.

      ‘Why, Jasper Charton, I never thought you had it in you to be a rogue.’ He turned to face her, stunned to discover her blue eyes, illuminated by the candlelight

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