Chapter 3
Chapter Three
Jasper allowed Mason to usher him toward the parlor with the good-natured patience of a man accustomed to being managed.
“Really, cousin, is there some urgent matter that requires such haste? You behave as though the roof is on fire.”
“Not a fire,” Mason said calmly, “but company.”
Jasper arched a brow but followed him in. The door opened, and he stepped across the threshold, only to halt dead in his tracks.
There she was.
Lady Matilda Sterlington, seated beside Cordelia as though she belonged there, her pale eyes widening the instant they met his.
“What,” Jasper demanded, turning sharply on Mason, “is she doing here?”
Matilda rose to her feet at once, her voice cutting and cool. “I might ask the same. If I had known the parlor was to be polluted by your presence, I should never have set foot in it.”
Jasper gave a short, incredulous laugh. “Polluted? A bold word, madam, considering I had no warning that you lurked here like some specter waiting to pounce.”
“Specter?” Her cheeks flushed, her back very straight. “I will not remain another moment in a room shared with a scoundrel such as yourself. Cordelia, dearest, forgive me—”
“Oh no, no,” Jasper interrupted, stepping forward with a flourish. “If anyone is to leave, it will be me. I would not wish to impose upon your… delicate sensibilities. They may not survive another moment of my wicked company.”
“Delicate?” Matilda’s eyes flashed. “If my sensibilities are delicate, then yours must be nonexistent.”
“On the contrary, Lady Matilda, mine are robust enough to endure this very conversation. The same, I fear, cannot be said of yours.”
Cordelia’s eyes darted between them in helpless amusement. Mason leaned against the mantel, wholly entertained.
Matilda lifted her chin. “Very well. I shall go first.” She swept a hand toward the door with regal disdain.
Jasper folded his arms, smirking. “Ah, but if you go first, I will be accused of driving you out. No, no, I insist. I shall remove myself at once.”
“You insist? Then do it,” she retorted.
His grin widened. “After you.”
She glared. “No, after you.”
For a moment they stood locked in silent battle, two stubborn wills colliding in a most absurd contest. Cordelia’s laughter broke the tension at last, her voice merry. “Oh heavens, do stop! You sound like children bickering over who must fetch the ball from the mud.”
“I would rather fetch a hundred balls from the mud,” Matilda muttered, “than endure five minutes in his company.”
“And I would rather,” Jasper countered smoothly, “sit through a sermon on proper behavior than another lecture from her.”
Their eyes met again, sparking. For all their proclamations, Jasper felt the faintest curl of amusement. No, worse than amusement. Interest.
But he schooled his features into disdain, bowed mockingly low, and declared, “One thing only is certain, Lady Matilda: wherever I go next, I pray it is far, far away from you.”
“And I,” she replied with equal fervor, “shall pray the same.”
Before either of them could storm out or insist upon storming out first, Cordelia clapped her hands together.
“Oh, do be silent, the both of you! Your dramatics would shame even the stage at Drury Lane. Neither of you is going anywhere, for Mason and I have very carefully contrived for you to be here… together.”
Matilda turned to her with astonishment. “Together? What do you mean?”
Cordelia beamed, entirely untroubled by the outrage that hung thick in the air.
“I mean that you must learn to be amiable with one another, because you are both very dear to us. Mason and I would not dream of replacing either of you as godmother or godfather to our child. You shall both remain so, which means you must, at the very least, cease squabbling long enough to stand together at the font.”
Matilda’s lips parted in dismay. “But, surely… you do not expect us to endure one another constantly until then?”
“I do,” Cordelia said cheerfully. “That is why you are both invited to Kenton for a fortnight. Two weeks of harmony before the rest of the guests arrive for the baptism. Think of it as… practice.”
“Practice?” Jasper’s laugh was as dry as it was incredulous. “My dear, you might as well ask a cat to live in peace with a dog. Impossible.”
“Indeed,” Matilda agreed, folding her arms. “I cannot be expected to act with civility toward a man who conducts himself with all the propriety of a highwayman.”
Jasper’s brows shot up. “Highwayman? I will have you know, madam, that no highwayman could manage a bow half so elegant as mine.” He demonstrated with an elaborate flourish, dimples flashing.
Matilda looked heavenward. “Heaven preserve me from his arrogance.”
“And me from her disdain,” Jasper countered smoothly. “If this is to be our lot for two weeks, then Kenton shall never know a moment’s peace.”
Cordelia leaned forward, eyes alight with mischief. “Then it shall be a most entertaining fortnight.”
Mason at last spoke, his voice mild but his gaze amused. “You may both quarrel as much as you please, so long as you do not do so within earshot of the baby.”
“I would never raise my voice near a child,” Matilda said with dignity.
“Nor I,” Jasper added, eyes gleaming as they flicked back to her. “But beyond that… restraint is unlikely.”
Her cheeks flared, and she fixed him with her fiercest stare. “I cannot be nice to a scoundrel who does not deserve it.”
“And I,” he returned with equal relish, “cannot stop teasing a lady who makes outrage such an art.”
Mason, calm as ever, leaned against the mantel, his eyes fixed on Jasper with mild reproach. “Refusal is not an option, Jasper. You are godfather. Matilda is godmother. Civility is required, and that is final.”
Matilda’s voice, cool and sharp, cut in. “We shall see if civility can be demanded by force. I am not accustomed to taking orders from—”
“From anyone,” Jasper finished for her with a grin, watching her stiffen. “I know.”
Cordelia’s hands shot into the air. “Enough! You will be amiable with one another. You have no choice. Kenton, two weeks, you shall endure each other without quarrel.”
Jasper’s eyes flicked to Matilda. The line of her shoulders was stiff; her grey eyes glittered with controlled indignation. She would not bend easily.
She sighed, exasperated, yet her voice was quiet and firm. “Very well. We shall behave. For two weeks.”
“Two weeks,” Jasper repeated, letting the words roll like a challenge, his grin widening. “I shall endeavor to remain civil, as you wish. But let it be known, Lady Matilda, my patience is already taxed.”
“And mine,” she said, her voice equally steady. “Though I shall endeavor to keep my temper in check.”
Cordelia clapped her hands, triumphant. “Excellent! Then it is settled. Kenton awaits us.”
Jasper inclined his head, smirking at Matilda. “Two weeks. Heaven help us both.”