Chapter 6
Chapter Six
“Imust confess, Cordelia,” Matilda said, drawing her shawl closer against the morning breeze, “you have managed to procure the loveliest corner of England. If Kenton were mine, I should never wish to leave it.”
Cordelia beamed, the very picture of satisfaction.
“I told you it would delight you. These gardens have been my pride since I first set foot here. Mason claims I spend more hours among roses than I do among people. I like to spend my days wandering the paths in search of love letters or listening for whispers among the hedges.”
“Cordelia,” Matilda chided with a smile. “Must you always have your head filled with schemes? You will make the gardeners uneasy, believing their flowerbeds are haunted.”
Cordelia, however, slipped her arm through Matilda’s. “You jest, dearest, but I am glad you admire the grounds. It pleases me to know you both feel at ease here.”
Matilda cast her gaze toward the sun-dappled lawns, the distant fields framed by oak and elm. It was true. She had not felt such quiet peace in a long while. And yet, just as quickly as it came, the peace soured when her thoughts turned to the reason they were here.
“To be entirely candid,” she said, her voice lowering, “I cannot think myself fortunate in all things. Sharing such a sacred duty with your cousin is hardly my idea of comfort.”
Hazel’s brows rose. “You mean the Duke?”
“Who else?” Matilda returned, a faint tightness about her mouth.
“It is no small thing to stand as godmother. I imagined it a bond of gentle remembrance, of steadfastness in your child’s life.
Yet now I find myself forced to share that bond with a man who considers the world his amusement.
A rake, a scoundrel, and worst of all, so very certain of himself. ”
Cordelia’s laugh was quiet but not without mischief. “You must admit, Matilda, he is entertaining company.”
“Entertaining!” Matilda repeated, affronted. “If you mean by that, exasperating beyond endurance, then yes, I concede the point.”
Hazel clasped her hands in delight. “How perfect, then! For while you spend the coming fortnight loathing him, the rest of us shall look on and enjoy the spectacle.”
“Hazel,” Matilda said sternly, though the heat rising in her cheeks betrayed her irritation.
She fixed her eyes upon the far hills, hoping neither friend noticed.
“You may laugh as you wish, but I intend to think of the child and nothing else. The Duke of Harrow may prance about as he pleases; I shall not allow it to disturb me.”
A moment passed, and Matilda felt as if someone nudged her in the stomach.
“Speak of the devil,” she muttered, her eyes narrowing as a tall figure appeared on the gravel path leading toward the house.
Jasper Everleigh, the Duke of Harrow, had just arrived. His dark riding coat caught the sun, his stride as assured as ever, and even from a distance, Matilda could sense the infuriating air of self-possession he carried everywhere.
Hazel pressed closer to her side, curious. “That is him? He looks—”
“Exactly like the sort of man one should avoid,” Matilda cut in. “I should have thought Kenton’s air too pure to tolerate his presence.”
Cordelia hid a smile, but before she could reply, a commotion drew their attention. Jasper’s valet, struggling under the weight of several cases, let one slip. It landed with a dull thud upon the drive. Matilda’s lips curved into the faintest smirk.
“Now we shall see him bark like the tyrant he is. No servant escapes unscathed when pride is wounded.”
But what she expected did not come to pass. Jasper turned at once, but instead of scowling or striking, he bent to lift the fallen bag himself.
“Steady there, Miles,” he said easily, his tone absent of censure. “It seems I have overpacked for Kenton, though we both know it is my fault, not yours.”
The valet muttered an apology, clearly flustered.
Jasper clapped him on the shoulder with a friendly firmness.
“Nonsense. If I am to ruin my boots with the weight of trunks, I would rather do so in company. Come, we shall manage together.” And with that, he hoisted two cases in either hand, carrying them toward the house as though it were nothing.
Matilda stopped walking. Her frown faltered. She watched as Jasper continued to speak with the man, his words quiet but warm enough that the fellow’s face relaxed, even brightened. A laugh escaped Jasper as the valet recounted something in return.
Cordelia, seeing Matilda’s unguarded expression, spoke softly.
“You know, Jasper’s valet, Jeremy Miles was once a soldier, a decorated one.
His injuries left him unable to find steady work when he returned.
Jasper employed him five years ago and has kept him close ever since. He says Miles is the best man he has.”
Matilda blinked, unable to form a ready reply. She had expected cruelty, arrogance, anything but this easy camaraderie between master and servant. Her thoughts tangled in a way she disliked.
Hazel leaned forward, whispering mischievously, “Matilda, you are staring.”
“I am merely… astonished,” Matilda admitted quickly, though her voice lacked its usual sharp edge.
She tore her gaze away, though the image remained. Jasper Everleigh patient, generous, kind? It was utterly contrary to every conclusion she had drawn of him. And yet, she could not shake the troublesome thought: perhaps there was a side to the Duke she had not seen at all.
Unfortunately for Matilda, Jasper Everleigh seemed born with a sixth sense for when eyes were upon him.
Having given his valet the last of the cases, he turned sharply and saw the three ladies upon the path.
His expression shifted at once into that familiar half-smile that was always too knowing and too smug.
“Ladies,” he drawled as he approached, every inch the Duke again. He bowed, the gesture languid yet undeniably graceful. “I had not expected to be greeted so warmly upon my arrival. You shouldn’t have made such a fuss as to welcome me, all three of you.”
Matilda’s spine stiffened, her brief astonishment buried deep, as though it had never existed. “If by warmly you mean that we happened to be walking in this direction and were most unwillingly forced to endure your company then yes, exceedingly warm.”
His smile widened. “Ah, Lady Matilda, how I have missed your gentle spirit. Kenton’s gardens will bloom twice as brightly with your tenderness scattered upon them.”
Hazel stifled a laugh, and Cordelia shot her a warning glance. Matilda, however, met Jasper’s gaze head-on, her eyes cool as steel. “It is remarkable, Your Grace, how you can make flowers wilt with nothing more than your presence. Let us hope Kenton’s soil proves sturdier.”
Jasper placed a hand dramatically to his chest. “You wound me. And here I thought I had made myself useful already, carrying trunks, showing uncommon humility for a man of my station.”
“Humility?” Matilda scoffed. “I daresay I have never heard the word so abused.”
He leaned slightly nearer, enough for her to catch the gleam of mischief in his dark eyes. “And yet, you were watching me. So perhaps my efforts were not in vain.”
Her cheeks burned not with embarrassment, but with indignation. She refused to step back. “I was watching to be certain you did not scold the poor man into the grave.”
Jasper chuckled, low and maddeningly amused. “You see villains everywhere, Lady Matilda. One might suspect you enjoy finding me guilty.”
“Because you so often are,” she retorted, her tone sharp but steady.
For a moment, his gaze lingered on her. Then, with a courteous nod to Cordelia and Hazel, he added lightly. “It seems Kenton will not be dull after all.”
He bowed to Cordelia with all the polish of a court favorite, then offered Hazel the same deference, though his grin lingered a touch too long, as though daring her to laugh.
“And where is Mason?” he asked, his tone casual, though Matilda fancied she heard a note of expectation.
“He has gone into town,” Cordelia replied. “But he should return before long.”
“Ah,” Jasper said, clasping his hands behind his back, looking entirely too at home already. “Then until his return, are you not fortunate indeed? Three ladies, one duke. Society will have my head for keeping such enviable company all to myself.”
Matilda rolled her eyes so forcefully she was certain he must hear the sound. Hazel bit her lip, clearly amused, while Cordelia only lifted her chin with serene determination.
“Come,” Cordelia declared, her voice bright. “Let us walk the gardens, and then we shall return to the house for tea. By then, Mason will be back to join us.”
Matilda froze. A stroll through the gardens with Jasper Everleigh? She would sooner throw herself into the ornamental pond!
Quickly, she shifted a step behind him, catching Cordelia’s gaze. With frantic gestures which included but were certainly not limited to hands slicing through the air, fervent shakes of her head, and a most emphatic mouthing of the word no, she made her opinion known.
Cordelia, of course, was unmoved. Hazel, stifling laughter, looked away lest Jasper noticed.
Jasper, oblivious to the silent theatrics being performed at his back, gave a most obliging nod. “A capital suggestion. Fresh air and charming company, why it is the very medicine I require after the rigors of travel.”
“Splendid!” Cordelia clapped her hands together in triumph.
Matilda very nearly groaned aloud.