Chapter 34
W hile walking in the garden, Jasper had been reminded with every step why he despised the house parties of the upper crust. The women he escorted were flirtatious and foolish and boring. What he wouldn’t give to hear Frankie matter-of-factly estimate the exact acreage of the gardens and how many blooms were in it.
He had not expected the arrival of Frankie’s mother, and by Frankie’s reaction, neither had she. He’d been struck by how different Mrs. Turner looked from her daughter, with her darker hair and delicate features. She was not ugly by any means, but she had none of the special light that made Frankie sparkle. Frankie hid her soft curves, brilliant eyes, and adorable dimples well, but once a man had seen them, he would never forget they were there.
When Frankie’s mother had pulled her aside, Jasper had carefully observed the emotions flitting over Frankie’s unguarded face, and a knot had begun to tighten in his stomach. She’d appeared defeated, resigned, and once he’d even caught a flash of disgust. Jasper began to suspect Mrs. Turner was the reason Frankie thought herself plain and undesirable.
Unable to stay away when she was so distressed, he’d walked over to introduce himself and had caught the embarrassment on Frankie’s cheeks when Mrs. Turner had treated him as if he were something she’d rather wipe her feet on than speak with. Jasper was familiar with the type—he dealt with people like Mrs. Turner nightly—and he no longer allowed it to affect him. What had bothered him was how it had hurt Frankie.
He knew Frankie was probably anxious about her mother interfering with her plans to ensnare one of the Eight, but Jasper was grateful there was another pair of eyes on her, keeping her safe. He wanted the Dowry Thieves stopped, but not at Frankie’s expense.
Still, he would keep careful watch over Mrs. Turner. If he thought she was making Frankie feel worthless, he would step in. Family was important, but no one was allowed to make Frankie feel bad.
Jasper was still lost in thought when one of the women shrieked as if she’d taken shrapnel, and in the ensuing melee Jasper glimpsed Frankie speaking privately with Lord Devon, who was showing far too much interest in her. That Devon was one of the names on Frankie’s list made Jasper’s insides raw. Devon was handsome and titled and destitute, and that made for a dangerous combination.
When Lord Devon had taken the extraordinary liberty of tucking a violet into Frankie’s golden-spun hair, a surge of possession had risen in Jasper’s chest, and before he’d thought it through, he’d plunked Lady Charlotte on her feet and was charging toward Frankie and Devon.
“Jasper!” Frankie’s tone was more relieved than censorious, which his nearly caveman-like statement about her belonging to him warranted. “I believe you mean I am your charity project and therefore under your protection.”
Jasper tucked the violet back into her hair, letting the strands slip across his gloves like satin, cursing the barrier.
Lord Devon watched them with confusion, her mother with tight-lipped suspicion. Jasper gave Devon a wolfish smile, and in response Devon unconsciously puffed his chest. He was not as tall as Jasper and he was built more leanly, but years of leisurely ennui had left him soft and weak. Having been born to privilege, Devon could rely on his name, his perceived wealth, and his connections to get by. Jasper had to rely on his wits first, his reputation second, and his fists third. They were from two entirely different worlds. Devon was a gentleman who’d probably never thrown the first punch. Jasper had no reservations about being the first to get his knuckles wet.
Devon bowed out of the silent standoff by taking an unconscious step back, but his pride would not accept defeat so easily. “I see Mr. Jones requires a moment of your time, Miss Turner, so I will acquit myself of your company. I look forward to our tête-à-tête this evening.”
Before Jasper could tell the man to piss off, Frankie batted her eyelashes and said, “I eagerly await the moment.”
“Tête-à-tête?” Frankie’s mother interrupted, halting the man’s exit. She fluttered her fan in front of her face. “My lord, I do hope you mean in the presence of others.”
Lord Devon gave Mrs. Turner an oily smile edged with frustration, and Jasper barely held back his grin. “You may be assured of it, Mrs. Turner.”
Cecelia raced back to them at an unladylike trot. “Lady Charlotte says she was bit by a snake, but I don’t see any marks on her ankle.”
Lord Devon’s eyebrows flew to his hairline and Mrs. Turner looked at Jasper’s niece as if she were an uncouth urchin from the street. Cecelia had obviously said something unacceptable, but damned if Jasper knew what.
Frankie apparently did. She put a protective hand on Cecelia’s arm and smiled conspiratorially at Lord Devon. “I know it is considered scandalous for a woman to mention any of her body parts, but a fine horseman such as yourself must already have an excellent understanding of anatomy.”
Lord Devon heard the innuendo as clearly as Jasper, except Jasper knew Frankie had no idea she was making one. Lord Devon smiled at Frankie as if he wanted to take a bite out of her.
Jasper grasped Cecelia with one hand and Frankie with the other. “You’ll have to excuse us,” he snapped, “the dinner gong rang.” Lord Devon sketched a bow and moved past them to comfort the abandoned Lady Charlotte. Jasper felt Mrs. Turner’s eyes on his back as he practically dragged Frankie and Cecelia back up the garden slope toward the house.
“That Lord Devon.” Cecelia sighed as soon as they were out of earshot. “He is g-o-r-g-e-o-u-s .”
“He is not that good-looking,” Jasper said.
“Speak for yourself,” Cecelia retorted. “If he asked me to marry him, I’d jump into his carriage in a jiffy.”
“ Cecelia !” Jasper and Frankie cried in unison.
“What? What’s so wrong with climbing in a carriage?”
Frankie groaned. “Cecelia, Devon is one of the Eight.”
Cecelia seemed stunned for a moment and then her face darkened. She pointed her chin over her shoulder to get a better look at Devon. “That rat. I ought to go back there and—”
“You will stay far, far away from Devon and every other man here.” Jasper’s jaw was so tight he was afraid he might crack a tooth. He had been unforgivably stupid to allow Cecelia to come. It was bad enough that Frankie was flaunting herself as bait. If something happened to Cecelia, he would never forgive himself. He’d begun spreading the word that Cecelia’s dowry would not come into effect until her coming-out next year, but desperate men made desperate choices. “You are fifteen, and there are a number of men here who would happily ruin you for your future fortune no matter your age. I should have left you at home.”
“No, no, I promise I will behave,” Cecelia said, instantly contrite. “I will always stay in sight and I will not cheat anyone at cards.”
Jasper stopped in his tracks. “Was cheating at cards even on the table?” he nearly shouted. If men had attacks of the vapors, he was well on his way.
“Jasper, let go,” Frankie said, pulling her arm. “You do not need to haul us about as if we are naughty children.”
“Yes, Uncle Jasper, let us go. I did not even hear the dinner gong. You have awfully good hearing.”
Jasper released both of them and took a deep breath. He was legendary for keeping a cool and level head in heated moments. It was how he had faced some truly dangerous situations with steady hands. And yet here, at the Houndsbury house party, he felt more out of control than he had in years. He was on someone else’s territory playing by someone else’s rules. He could not control all the variables, and a single misstep could be the ruination of one of the women at his side.