The Lady's Chocolatier: a Victorian-era romance novella Page 2

  An eyebrow soared upward while he flicked his gaze quickly over her person. Heat stabbed through him. She’d always possessed a voluptuous figure. Now, that figure had only been enhanced, featuring curves in all the right places. Curves that would drive a man insane for a peek at bosom or hip. The tight confines of the green velvet displayed her charms to full advantage, the frothy lace at her throat drew his attention there. He sent his gaze over her left shoulder. “I do, but that is not the point.” Jasper cleared his throat. “Do you, ah, have appropriate travel arrangements?”

  “Perhaps.” She looked to the side, the brim of her hat hiding her face.

  Walk away, Jasper. Leave her haughty arse on the platform and make certain she remains in your past.

  The problem with having a conscience was that it was nearly impossible to ignore it because, if one tried, the blasted thing would keep on talking until one’s head was full of suggestions and advice—and ill-advised hope. He sighed. “If it wouldn’t trouble you too much, perhaps you should share my carriage. I shall be happy to take you anywhere in London you need to go.”

  “I am quite fine here, thank you.” She still wouldn’t look at him. Was that a faint blush staining her pale cheeks? Hard to tell in the gloom.

  Interesting. Was she angry or embarrassed—or was a different emotion at play to put such color into her cheeks? And why did he want to know? He shoved the thoughts away. “You never were a tolerable liar, Evangeline,” he said softly, taking leave to use her given name. “Come. Share my carriage and get out of the rain. Even pride must fall before horrid English weather.”

  For long seconds she stood, avoiding his gaze, the cold precipitation further soaking her garments. Eventually, she nodded, and it was a curt affair, but she swiveled around so that she peered directly at him from beneath the brim of her hat, her emotions unreadable. “A break from the rain would be welcome.”

  “Excellent.”

  “Yes, quite.”

  This is ridiculous. “Let’s crack on then. I’m not inclined to remain in the damp either.” He looked at her luggage. “There’s nothing for it but to heft the trunk into the carriage. It can rest upon one of the benches.” Had he known he would need to accommodate a lady’s excessive baggage, he would have impressed upon his assistant to have a different vehicle brought around.

  “Do be careful. The contents are of some value.” She took possession of her carpetbag, folded her umbrella and then followed him toward the carriage.

  “I’ll do my best.” As they drew even, the driver opened the door and handed Evangeline inside. “If you would help me haul that trunk over, I’d appreciate it.” He tossed his valise onto the floor of the carriage.

  The other man glanced between the abandoned trunk to the woman in the carriage and back to the luggage, speculation in his gaze. Jasper hated that look, hated the thoughts no doubt running through the driver’s mind. “We’ll have it loaded in two shakes.” Gus—the driver—ran through the rain while Jasper folded his umbrella and went to assist the man with the trunk. Nothing else was said—or implied—regarding the rescue of lady or luggage.

  Once they perched it onto one of the benches, the red velvet squabs crushed beneath its weight, Jasper nodded his thanks. “To Bond Street, my good man. The Emporium to be precise.” It was said out of rote. He’d forgotten the presence of his feminine cargo. Heat crept up the back of his neck. “I mean…”

  The driver nodded then hunched into the rain. “Very good.” He cleared his throat and again slid a glance inside the carriage. Evangeline had turned her face away from the window. In fact, she’d scampered to the far side of the conveyance. “I understand your address, but will there be a stop between for the lady?”

  “I’m not certain. Once I procure the information, I will let you know.”

  “Right. We’ll be there soon.” As Gus swung himself into his seat, Jasper climbed into the carriage. As soon as he slammed the door closed, the vehicle lurched into motion. He peered at his companion through the dim interior. “Do you have a direction?”

  “No.” The thick silence around them swallowed the one-word answer. “For all intents and purposes, I am alone for the moment.”

  Jasper stared as water dripped from the brim of his hat. Well, that did put him in a pickle. The second the trace of a tear made its way down the pale slope of her cheek, illuminated in the light from a lamp they passed, his decision was made. “Bond Street it is then.”

  Hellfire and botheration. What am I supposed to do with her now?

  Chapter Two

  Dear heavens, I’ve acted the shrew.

  Again.

  That wasn’t her intention. Miss Evangeline Bradenwilde stared straight ahead as she sat with shoulders stiff and back straight. The carriage clattered over the cobblestone streets of London, headed to God only knew where, and here she was, nearly brushing arms with the one person she hoped she’d never see again, Mr. Jasper Winslow—the man she’d bolted from that long ago day when he’d gone down on one knee and brought forth a ring.

  That dratted diamond solitaire surrounded by small amethysts that formed a flower, all set in elegant silver filigree, the blasted sentimentality of it, for he’d always brought her posies of violets when they were in bloom, saying when she wore them or anything purple, her eyes were more blue than green. The ring had sent panic down her spine and fear into her heart, prompting flight.

  All in a bid for independence. Seeing him again when she’d been at her lowest had brought out the prickles.

  The burn of embarrassment and annoyance simmered within her chest, warming her through and making her temporarily forget the chilly dampness of her clothing as well as the panic from having her purse stolen on the train. When she’d made the decision to leave Jasper to his future while she chased hers, it had been the best for them both. She’d wanted her freedom, wanted to spread her wings without depending on her family’s money or connections within the ton, wanted to have success linked to her name that included more than an advantageous marriage, creating the perfect family or keeping an efficient house.

  Yet what did she have to show for their five years apart? Working in an underpinnings shop owned by her aunt with anemic sales and no personal relationship to speak of or inroads made into starting a family—perfect or otherwise. She was twenty-nine years old. Way past an age where a man of discerning taste would take her to wife, long past the time where bearing children was ideal. The thoughts sent a pang of longing through her insides. It wasn’t that she regretted the choices she’d made—she didn’t—for she’d gained experience and had traveled all over England. Yet… Here she was, with the very man she’d wished to make a lasting impression on, convince him that her refusal had been a wise decision, but there was no story, no accolades, no fat bank account and no gloating to back up why she’d made her choice to leave him.

  I have failed on every front. Nothing in my life has worked as I’d hoped.

  The muscles in her stomach clenched and cold panic slid through her chest. Perhaps it was true, and no matter that the world had advanced in technology and forward thinking, a woman still couldn’t attain success without the backing of a man. She shook her head. No, she didn’t accept that. And neither was what she felt at all in conjunction to the man beside her. This sense of unease and even discontent stemmed from disappointment at missing her grandmother’s seventy-third birthday celebration in Brighton on the morrow.

  Nothing more. It didn’t matter a jot what Jasper Winslow thought or even what his life was like now.

  Much.

  Botheration. Liar. Of course she’d thought about Jasper during their time apart, and his opinions still mattered. Did he hold her defection against her? She blew out a breath. It is simply a case of trying harder. She vowed she would make more of an effort to make her mark upon the world before she passed another year of life. After everything, she had her pride, and that had kept her in forward momentum these last years more than anything else. Jasper and his op
inions could go hang. I am worth more than being some man’s arm ornament and a means to further a man’s name and legacy.

  “Drat.”

  “Did you want to utter something profound?” His tone was clipped, cold.

  “No.” Despite the fact she didn’t wish to talk to her companion, Evangeline cast a glance at him. If luck was with her, she’d convince him to drop her somewhere—anywhere—within the city, and he would never know her dreams hadn’t matured into the grand career and indulgent independence she’d left him to pursue. He’d never know of her failure; he’d never know part of her regretted that rash decision she’d tossed away without care or thought.

  And he especially would never know that she wondered, every now and again, what her life would have been like had she married him.

  “Are you content enough to stare without words? Which is quite rude, I might add.” One of his eyebrows arched as he turned his face toward her. “I could preen and posture like a peacock if that would help your perusal.”

  The heat of humiliation shot into her cheeks, and caught peeking, she couldn’t very well glance away. Instead, she forced a hard swallow and boldly met his gaze, and then gasped at the sharp annoyance in those steely gray depths. “I… ah… apologize for staring.” His aquiline nose sat beneath striking, dark brown eyebrows and gave his noble face character and a hint of arrogance she remembered so well. When a faint grin curved his sensuous lips, a tremor moved through her belly, and this time she fixed her gaze to the knot of his gray-and-black striped cravat. Why can I not banish my reaction to him entirely?

  “Yes, one can readily discern that.”

  For one terrible second, she thought she could read her mind and she gawked at him.

  He softly cleared his throat and the grin had vanished, which brought her attention back to his face. His eyes flashed in the gloomy carriage interior, eyes that were undeniably stormy as wind-tossed waves. “The question that remains is: why?”

  “Why am I apologizing?” She frowned, not following his logic.

  “No, why are you staring to begin with? If I remember correctly, on the platform, you were adamant that you didn’t have anything to say to me.” He rested an ankle on a knee. Droplets of water rolled off his overcoat and gray-and-black striped trousers.

  “I was out of sorts then.” Of course he would choose to remember that. “I merely wished to see how time had treated you.” That wasn’t necessarily a lie.

  “I would like to hope it’s been as kind as it has to you.”

  “Oh.” Heat of a different kind flooded her face. “Thank you for the compliment.” Once more her gaze dropped to his cravat. “You look as handsome as you did the last time I saw you.” Another truth. The man had no right to be as dashing as he was. Why could not the years have given him a paunch and thinning hair? A wart even?

  “Ah, that last time when you fled the garden as if the hounds of hell were at your heels.” A trace of humor rang in his voice, which contradicted the annoyance she’d spied in his eyes. “Thank the heavens my looks weren’t the reason for your flight.”

  “Yes, well, that is in the past.” She stifled the urge to snort with laughter as she threaded her fingers together in her lap. The thin kid did nothing to keep the chill at bay.

  “We would like to hope.” The tone of his voice suggested it might not be, and another trace of tremors moved down her spine. “Where shall I drop you? Do you have a direction? From what I remember, I’m certain you have family in London.”

  “I do, but most of them are in Brighton at the moment, and I do not relish showing up on one of their doorsteps, wet, bedraggled and in need of assistance due to the fact my purse was stolen on the train, leaving me without pin money.” She turned her face to the window and the black velvet curtain that covered it.

  “Are you unharmed from that incident?” Though the inquiry was polite, concern hung on the words.

  She appreciated the sentiment. Being independent was well and good, but one sorely missed having someone else about as companion. “I am fine. More angry than anything else. I should have paid more attention to my surroundings, but with the crush of people and the rain, I was distracted.”

  “Ah.”

  “London is filled with criminals.” There was no excuse for her babble, yet she indulged in it anyway.

  “Yes, but it also has good people too. You must look harder.”

  What the devil did that mean? Now she had nowhere to go unless she wished to throw herself on the mercy of her family, the very people from whom she’d refused help too many times for any of them to offer it now. The thing about independence meant one walked that road alone by necessity. Add to that fact, if she went back on her word, then she’d be giving permission for her mother or even her grandmother to resume matchmaking attempts.

  And she’d land in the same drink she’d run from five years ago.

  “If I might venture a guess to explain your current contretemps?”

  “I cannot stop you.”

  That dratted eyebrow lifted once more. He went on as if she hadn’t spoken. “Because you more than likely ran from your family when you ran from me, it is now a matter of pride that you won’t ask for assistance—from any of us.”

  How could he deduct that? Her jaw dropped and she solidly met his knowing gaze. “I…” She wetted her lips, unsure of how to continue. The best course of action would be not to allow this line of questioning at all. The last thing she wanted was his censure. “It is also none of your business, Mr. Winslow.”

  “That is no longer a sufficient answer, Miss Bradenwilde.” Part of Evangeline died that he hadn’t repeated her Christian name as he’d done on the platform. When he turned toward her and planted both feet on the boards of the carriage, his knee knocked into hers. Tingles played the base of her spine. Heat spread from the point of contact. “Why are you in London?”

  “I couldn’t transfer to Brighton due to weather.” That was a vague enough answer, and something he could easily discover for himself. “And some business about trees and debris being over the tracks from the storm. The station master said the trains wouldn’t run in the storm until it was deemed safe for travel again.”

  “What is in Brighton that all of your family members are already there and you are not?” He searched her face with his intense gaze. “When I knew you, your family haunted London and never missed a ton function.”

  Oh, the irony of that. Her family moved in circles she didn’t want to trod, yet here she was, back in the capital, sharing a carriage with the second son of a viscount and the reason for her flight to Brighton to begin with. It was as if those last five years had never happened. “If you must know, my grandmother is celebrating a birthday, and since she prefers the climate and entertainment of Brighton, that’s where she has taken up residence. She demanded the family attend her there.” That pulled a smile from her, for Lady Jane had a stubborn streak that grew more pronounced as the years went by. “Also, my aunt lives with her, and we, ah…” She waved a hand. “Nevermind. It is not important.”

  Jasper nodded. “From what I remember of your adventurous grandmother, she let nothing dissuade her from doing exactly as she pleased.”

  “Yes.” Fond memories warmed her insides and chased away a bit of the cold. “She was the one who encouraged me to spread me wings, to walk my own path, regardless of gossip.” It was more than she’d wanted to reveal to him, but she couldn’t recall the words now. With a sigh, she regarded the window again. “She is every bit the earl’s daughter. The stories she tells of the exciting places she’d gone as a child with her parents, as well as the madcap scrapes, the romantic interludes she’d indulged in later, the schemes she’d gotten into even after her marriage…” Evangeline shook her head. “I wish I was more like her than the woman I have become.”

  “Why can you not be that woman? It’s not as if you are at the end of your life.” A frown rang in his voice.

  “It’s… complicated. I do not wish to s
peak of it.” For like their relationship, the time to chase a new dream was in the past, especially when the current one she lived wasn’t working.

  “Nothing is ever complicated. It is our musing upon the thing that makes it so.” He captured her gaze and lowered his voice. The almost gentle tones lulled her into a sense of peace. “You always did over-think things, shy away from adventure out of fear of change or the unknown.” Then he shrugged and his arm brushed hers. “No doubt the bold miss who embarrassed me didn’t have enough follow through.” He tsked his tongue. “What has happened to you that you are at such a pass?”

  The peace he’d imparted vanished like mist before the sun. In its place came hot anger. He had no right to judge her. They’d never discussed the future, and he’d certainly not asked her what she wanted from life. She narrowed her eyes. “This discussion is over, Mr. Winslow.”

  “Interesting that when conversation hits too close to home or necessitates you having to examine how you feel about certain things, you end it.” He leaned away from her and slightly widened the space between them. “Will you always run, Evangeline?”

  The sound of her name on his lips sent another host of tingles through her belly. Why did he make it seem as if his mouth caressed the word before releasing it upon the air? Which brought her attention to his lips. Did he now kiss with authority and experience behind him, or did he still give perfunctory and passionless pecks? “Perhaps. After all, isn’t that what happens when one feels threatened?” Drat! Why did she continue to talk and offer bits of revelation about herself? She contemplated the window once more. “Please have your driver take me to my great uncle’s townhouse in Berkeley Square.”

  “The earl’s residence.” Jasper snorted. “So, throwing yourself on the mercies of family is preferable to riding with me?” Low-grade annoyance infused the question.

  It irritated her that he felt thusly, but then, he was justified. “At this moment, yes.”