Chapter 42
T he next morning, the Houndsbury estate was in a brilliant whirl of activity. While gentlemen prepared for the grand foxhunt, servants prepared for the evening’s ball. The ladies, meanwhile, were entertaining themselves with walks and other genteel games. Cecelia and Frankie had chosen croquet and were playing on the south lawn under a midmorning sky of white and steel when Jasper arrived.
Frankie had never played croquet before and she had discovered, much to her delight, that she was exceptionally good at it. All it took was a few quick calculations of angles in her head, and it seemed she was able to put the balls exactly where she wished.
Cecelia was outfitted in a white-and-lilac-sprigged morning gown that made her appear her age for once, and she boisterously ran back and forth, alternately cheering on the more sedate ladies and nudging Madam Margaret awake.
Frankie whacked a ball and was unsurprised when it sailed through the wire arch, her skills seemingly unaffected by her lack of sleep. She’d lain awake a good portion of the night recalling every last touch she and Jasper had shared, and feeling squirmy and pink with the memories. From there she had spiraled into worry about her sister, worry about the troublemakers, and worry that she would not find any evidence of the identity of the ringleader.
The result of all her worrying was that Frankie had not solved any of her problems, but she had lost a good deal of sleep.
“There you are.” Jasper’s voice sounded from behind her shoulder, deep and sensuous. Her body reacted instantly, tingling and tensing with pleasant anticipation. “I heard complaints in the drawing room that croquet was no fun because an upstart kept winning, and I immediately knew where to find you.”
Frankie pushed at the bridge of her spectacles. “Truly? They are upset?”
“People do not like to consistently lose. They enjoy the illusion of chance. Mayhap toss a game or two, and you will find that your opponents will come back for more.”
“Is that how you run Rockford’s?”
“I take it into consideration.”
“I really must visit.”
Jasper rubbed the back of his neck. “You are aware that honorable society women are generally discouraged from frequenting gaming hells?”
Frankie used the end of her croquet mallet to smack a fly. “Thank heavens I am not an honorable society woman.”
Jasper gave her a devilish grin. “Cecelia appears quite engaged in the game, and I have need of your assistance inside.”
Frankie nodded and excused herself. Did she imagine the sighs of relief from the other women? Cecelia waved to her and Jasper as they headed across the green, springy lawn toward the main house. “You are not hunting?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“It is not a fair fight. They let loose a fox, and then on horseback and with their hounds sniffing, they stampede after it like ham-fisted oafs. ’Tis a cruel sport.”
Frankie wondered how on earth he had managed to maintain his reputation as a heartless cad. He was fiercely protective, and she had witnessed him beat down Farthins, but anyone who knew him must’ve also known that beneath the roguish exterior was a man whose sentiments were made up of gold and jam and everything gooey and sweet.
“Are you feeling all right?” he asked as he led her up the staircase. “With everything that happened yesterday?”
“I am disappointed that I fell so easily into their trap, but I am more determined than ever to out the monster who designed it.”
Jasper gave her an inscrutable look. “I meant everything that happened between us . The betrothal and what we did after.”
“Oh, that.”
“Yes, that.”
She considered. “I quite enjoyed it.”
Jasper smiled.
They had reached the door to his chamber and Frankie narrowed her eyes. “What exactly is it that you need my help with?”
“It is a math question,” he said, twisting the knob.
Once inside, he locked the door and pulled her to him. His mouth descended on hers with such hunger that if she had not known any better, she would have thought it had been ages since he’d been with a woman instead of twelve hours. Frankie wound her arms around his neck and breathed in the scent of him. The window was opened and the smells of summer wove between them: freshly cut grass, wildflowers, and dried clay.
His tongue tangled with hers and his hands slid into her hair. Her pins needed only the smallest excuse to slip out of her locks, and they did so then, clattering to the floor. With her hair falling in a sheet between her shoulder blades and Jasper’s hands roving down her back, Frankie pulled away and said, “Jasper!”
“Right, yes, the math problem. Lie on the bed.”
Frankie happily did as he bid. Sinking into the center of the bed with her knees bent and her elbows propping her up, she waited while Jasper untied his cravat and dragged it slowly off his neck. He pulled it taut between both hands and approached her with the prowl of a large cat.
He sat on the edge of the bed and laid the strip of silk across her eyes. “It occurred to me last night that there are certain things I did not have a chance to do with you, and I knew I must rectify the situation immediately. Turn your head, darling.”
Frankie could have said no and she knew he would have respected her boundaries, but the idea of being blindfolded and reliant entirely on her other senses was far too intriguing. She turned her head, and he settled the cravat over her eyes and tied the knot on the side so that it would not be uncomfortable. His consideration had not yet ceased to amaze her.
The room instantly went dark, and Frankie felt the mattress shift as he stood. The lemon polish smelled stronger, the brocade blanket beneath her fingertips rougher, the rush of blood in her ears louder. “What math problem do you need help with?” she rasped.
Cool air brushed her thighs as he flipped her skirt above her knees. His warm hands cupped her ankles over her stockings and smoothed upward. “Angles,” he said, his voice rough. He’d reached the tops of her knees, his fingers brushing across the smooth skin above her stockings, but to her surprise he didn’t stop there; instead he trailed his fingertips higher to her drawers. Slowly he tugged on the string until the knot released, then he hooked his thumbs inside the waistband and dragged them down her legs, leaving her completely bare and open to him. Frankie was almost grateful for the blindfold so that she did not have to blush at the sight she must’ve made.
His palms were back, this time scorching the insides of her thighs as he pushed them apart. She felt hot breath on the skin above her knee, then a smooth lap of his tongue. Frankie flexed her fingers in the fabric of the coverlet. His lips drifted, light as a butterfly’s wings, higher up her leg.
“Angles?” she gasped dumbly.
“Angles.” He kissed her on her inner thigh where the skin was thinner. He sucked and licked and then blew a stream of air on the wet flesh. “I am going to place my tongue on you, and you are going to tell me if I have the angle right.”
“That is not really a— Jasper ! ”
He’d moved his mouth while she spoke, kissing her directly between her legs. Frankie was stunned. Such a thing had to be unorthodox and taboo and improper, and yet in that moment she was extraordinarily grateful that Jasper Jones was not a proper gentleman who would only do proper gentlemanly things to her.
He was sinfully wicked, and he did sinfully wicked things to her.
Jasper’s hands held her thighs apart as he licked and sucked and stroked her with his tongue and lips. Then he inserted his finger and Frankie saw stars. The pleasure was intense, but he was avoiding the one place that had made her peak the night before.
“You are missing an angle.”
Jasper murmured into her and she shivered. “This one?” He flicked his tongue across the nub of nerves and Frankie cried out.
“Yes!”
“Not yet.”
Frankie squirmed, but Jasper held down her thighs and she loved that, too. After a few more minutes of beautiful torture, he tucked his arms under her legs and pulled at the neckline of her gown. Realizing what he wanted, Frankie helped until her breasts were bare. Her nipples instantly puckered, practically begging for his touch. Jasper strummed his fingertips across them, tweaking and plucking and gently rolling. At the same time, he at last paid attention to that special spot, and with the flat of his tongue on her center and his hands on her breasts, Frankie screamed as she exploded.
Jasper was on her in a moment, swallowing her cries with his mouth as her body continued to convulse, until at last she fell as limp as a dish rag. She breathed heavily for a moment and then pushed the cravat onto her forehead. Jasper was lying next to her, his eyes hot and needy. “Did I hit the right angle?”
“You know you did. Why are your trousers still on?”
“I thought you’d never ask.” He shucked them in record time and entered her already liquid center, her inner muscles still tremoring with pleasure. She tightened around him and crossed her ankles behind his back. As soon as he started moving the pressure began to build again. A bird chirped outside their window and the horn signaled the start of the hunt, but Frankie only vaguely registered the background noises as he entered her at an angle that gave her chills.
Her skirt was bunched and cumbersome at her waist, and Jasper growled as he batted it away. “Let me undress you.”
“No, it is too annoying to re-dress. Let me on top again instead.”
He rolled onto his back, taking her with him, and she rocked back and forth on him while he cupped her breasts, and it was not long before they both reached a blinding peak.
Frankie tumbled inelegantly off him and lay face down on the bed. Jasper took the opportunity to gently smack her bottom and nip her ear. “Thank you for your mathematical expertise.”
She made an unintelligible noise into the cover.
“When we marry, I want you to wear my ring.”
She shifted onto her side and reached for his hand. She ran her tongue around his middle finger, just above the silver-and-black crest of Rockford’s. “This ring?”
Jasper’s eyes darkened. “I meant a wedding ring, but perhaps you have the right of it after all.” He slid the ring off his finger and tried it on the fourth finger of her left hand. It was far too big. It was even too big for her thumb. Jasper clamped the ring between his teeth and reached around her neck to unclasp the silver chain she was wearing. Frankie watched, oddly aroused, as he used his teeth to slide the ring onto the chain and then re-clasped it around her neck.
“Now everyone knows you are mine.”
Frankie touched the silver band, which was still warm with his body heat, and her heart tripped. “How will everyone know you are mine?”
Jasper gave her a mysterious smile. “I have an idea, but you shall have to wait until we are properly married to learn what it is.” He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the ring, which rested over her heart. “This is where it belongs.”
Frankie laughed. “As a necklace?”
But Jasper was not laughing. He stood abruptly, his sudden absence leaving an impression in the mattress and cool air where his body heat had been. He pulled his trousers on and raked a hand through his hair. Frankie sat up and smoothed her skirts over her knees. “What is the matter? Did I say something wrong?”
Jasper had abandoned his efforts to dress and was pacing at the foot of the bed in only his trousers. His feet and chest were bare, and a magnificent chest it was. Dark hair curled over the supple heft of muscle, and her eyes devoured the trail of hair that ran across his ridged belly. “No, you did not say anything wrong. The problem is with me. I am having a difficult time keeping my true feelings to myself.”
Frankie’s pulse stopped. “You do not want to marry.”
“What? No. ” Jasper dropped to his knees by the bed. “The problem is that I want to marry you, and I would have eventually begged you to consider accepting me, even if a card game had not forced us into it. I love you, Francis Turner. I’m bloody well in love with you.”
Frankie’s heart squeezed and released, squeezed and released. Her breath deserted her and she could only stare at Jasper’s earnest face before hers. Did he truly love her, or did he only fancy himself in love with her? She knew she vexed him half the time, and the other half of the time he was vexing her. She was not beautiful, like Lady Evelyn, or rich, or cultured, or any of the things he could have if he wanted. No matter what he’d said the night before, she knew she was not remarkable in any way other than her affinity for numbers.
Frankie enjoyed Jasper’s company and she was thrilled with what they’d done in bed. That was more than most arranged marriages had. Very few married couples actually loved one another. Frankie was terrified that if she allowed herself to believe he loved her, she would be giving him the power to destroy her.
“Er, thank you,” she said.
Jasper sighed and pressed his forehead to hers. “You do not have to say it back. Yet. I can be a patient man.”
“No, you cannot.”
“Well, I would prefer you realized you loved me sooner rather than later,” he admitted. “Perhaps this will help. I want it all, Frankie. Love, children, family. Noisy holidays, laughter at the dinner table, making love on the sofa when the children are finally asleep. My whole life I have thought all I needed was money, success, and petty enjoyments. Then Cecelia came along and everything began to change, but it was not until you showed up, standing in my sitting room with your forthright candor, that I realized I was missing out. I didn’t have love growing up, or a tight-knit family. I had my brother, and even he was resentful of me. I do not want to spend the rest of my life consorting with widows and throwing money around. I want a family. I want love and laughter and mathematics facts. I want you .”
Frankie could only stare at him, her lips parted. Jasper Jones, infamous rake and gambler, was telling her he wanted a real marriage, the kind with all the strings and obligations. The kind where, if the person betrayed you, it slayed you.
Jasper continued, “I do not know what doubts are swirling about in your mind, but I am sure they have nice, rational reasons behind them.”
“They do!”
He lightly gripped her chin and stared into her eyes. “Not everything is logical, Frankie. Some things are just plain magical.”
Before she could reply, they heard a shout of alarm from outside, and then a woman screamed long and loud.
“Cecelia!” they both gasped.
Jasper yanked on his boots and quickly tied his cravat while Frankie hastily fixed her hair, and they both ran down the stairs to the croquet lawn. Several of the hunting party had already returned from the hunt, their faces grim. Two women were screaming with hysterics and were being led inside to recover with smelling salts.
Frankie’s heart was in her throat until she spotted Cecelia in the thick of it, watching the adults speak in low tones with avid interest.
Jasper reached Cecelia before Frankie did, and pulled her into an embrace. “Thank God you are all right, Cece. What is happening?”
“A murder,” Cecelia said in awe. “The hunters found a body in the woods.”
“Who is it?” Jasper asked.
Frankie’s skin prickled hot and then cold. She already knew the name before Cecelia answered. “Lord Devon.”