Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
“Matilda, Jasper,” Evelyn said brightly across the breakfast table, “I have just the thing for both of you. I want the flower beds by the west terrace prepared for the baptism. You shall see to the arrangements yourselves, and make sure the paths are not overgrown and the roses are tied properly.”
Matilda nearly choked on her tea. She exchanged a horrified glance with Jasper, who raised a single eyebrow in mirrored outrage.
“You mean… together?” she gasped, her voice tight with disbelief.
“Indeed,” Evelyn replied serenely, as if the notion were the most natural thing in the world. “I cannot do it all alone, and Hazel and Cordelia will be attending to other matters inside.”
Jasper frowned. “Don’t you have gardeners to take care of such things? I mean, honestly.”
Evelyn shot him a glance. “I am pairing everyone up. Don’t think you are the only ones with chores.
Besides, you know well why you two need to spend as much time as possible.
I want you amicable for the baptism, if possible.
So, if that means finding a million chores for you to do together, so be it.
You two are quite capable of chores, are you not? ”
Jasper leaned back in his chair, with a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Capable, yes,” he said slowly, “but I am not sure the world or the roses for that matter, are prepared for the likes of our combined efforts.”
Matilda looked as though she might protest further, but Evelyn’s gaze was firm. “I insist. You will manage it admirably, I am certain. Consider it… a test of civility, if you like.”
“A test of civility?” Matilda repeated, aghast. “Why, that is almost cruel!”
Jasper chuckled, low and amused, glancing at her over the rim of his cup. “Cruel, perhaps. But interesting. I do like a challenge.”
Matilda’s eyes narrowed. “And I do not,” she retorted, though the corners of her lips threatened to betray her with a reluctant twitch of humor.
Cordelia, ever the instigator, leaned forward with a mischievous sparkle in her eyes. “I think it will be quite entertaining. Perhaps the flowers will survive your… talents. Or perhaps they will revolt.”
Hazel gave her a knowing look. “You both will manage, I have no doubt. And should the roses survive your efforts, it will be a triumph indeed.”
Matilda let out a small, exasperated sigh, folding her napkin. “Very well. I suppose I am resigned to this… horror. Shall we get it over with?”
Jasper inclined his head, still smirking. “Most reluctantly on my part as well. Let us march forth and terrorize the roses in equal measure.”
As they both met up on the west terrace, the scent of roses mingled with the crisp air as Matilda adjusted her gloves. Jasper was already bending over the first flower bed, examining the stems with an exaggerated seriousness that made her chest tighten in annoyance.
“Must you handle every rose as though it were a crown jewel?” she demanded, planting her hands on her hips.
Jasper looked up, dimple flashing. “And must you bark orders as though I were some clumsy footman? I assure you, Lady Matilda, I am fully capable.”
“Clearly,” she shot back, “capable of making mischief, if nothing else.”
He straightened, giving a mock bow. “Mischief is, of course, my greatest talent. But I assure you, I am entirely devoted to horticulture at present. You need only observe and learn.”
Matilda bristled, moving to tie a rose carefully to its support. She felt his gaze follow her every motion, light and teasing, as if he were waiting for her to falter. She did not, of course, and yet her pulse betrayed her.
“You know,” she said, voice tight but quiet enough for only him to hear, “this task is entirely unnecessary. I suspect you enjoy watching me flustered.”
“Flustered?” He bent to adjust a stem near her hand, the brush of his fingers against hers fleeting but deliberate. “I think you mistake concentration for fluster. But if you wish to call it flustered… I cannot entirely disagree.”
Her cheeks warmed, and she had the presence of mind to glance away, only to catch him smirking under lowered lashes. How infuriatingly handsome he could be, even while wielding a pair of gardening shears.
At the edge of the terrace, a small pile of tools tipped over, and they both reached for it at the same instant, with their hands brushing. Matilda yanked back sharply. Jasper only laughed quietly.
“You are far too delicate,” he said, shaking his head. “I might have thought a mere touch would unsettle you, but it seems I was correct.”
“I am not delicate!” she said sharply, though her lips twitched despite her indignation.
“Of course not,” he murmured, leaning slightly closer to examine a rose, though his eyes remained on her. “You are… precise, determined, and entirely infuriating. A combination most dangerous.”
Matilda’s hands froze mid-tie. Dangerous. The word echoed in her mind, and though she wanted to scold him further, she could not deny a tiny thrill of acknowledgment. She worked faster, tying roses carefully, but she could feel him watching, measuring and worst of all, teasing.
Jasper knelt beside a particularly stubborn rose bush, frowning in exaggerated frustration. “This one refuses to behave. I daresay it is determined to defy me.”
Matilda bent over the other side, tugging at a stray branch that had grown at a ridiculous angle. “It seems we are at an impasse,” she said, her voice tight with concentration. “Though perhaps it is not entirely the rose’s fault.”
“Ah,” he said, looking up at her with an arched brow. “Do you propose it is the gardener, then, who is the troublemaker?”
She flushed at the gentle teasing, but her eyes brightened as an idea struck her. “No. We are both trying to tie the roses to the stakes from opposite sides. If we approach it differently… perhaps from the center, supporting the stem first, then the branches, we might succeed.”
Jasper’s lips curved in a slow, impressed smile. “A clever notion. You would have me work from the center, you say?”
“Yes,” she said firmly, surprised at how confident she felt in giving instruction. “It is more secure. We can each handle half the branches, then meet in the middle.”
He straightened, nodding. “Very well, Lady Matilda. I shall follow your lead, though I reserve the right to claim credit for my skill in execution.”
“Credit is unnecessary,” she said, trying to sound prim, though she could not hide the small thrill of satisfaction in being heard.
When the last branch was secured and the rose finally stood upright, both of them paused, eyes meeting across the bed.
“Well,” Jasper said, an astonished grin tugging at his lips, “I do believe we have succeeded. By some miracle, Lady Matilda, we have solved a problem together without destroying the world or each other.”
Matilda straightened, brushing the dirt from her gloves, still basking in the quiet satisfaction of their joint success. For a brief, shining moment, she allowed herself to think that perhaps Jasper Everleigh could be… tolerable.
Then he leaned slightly closer, tilting his head in that infuriatingly charming way, and let his blue eyes glint with mischief.
“You know, Lady Matilda,” he murmured teasingly, “I am beginning to suspect that roses are the perfect excuse for us to work together. Such a rare opportunity for scandal… er, I mean, teamwork.”
She froze, feeling cheeks warming instantly, and could not hide her glare. “Scandal?” she said sharply. “I should think your imagination is far too… active.”
He smirked, the faintest dimple appearing. “Perhaps,” he said smoothly, “but I do enjoy testing it. And I must confess, your expression when I speak so is… most delightful.”
Matilda’s hands clenched into her gloves. “Your Grace, if you believe I will allow you to flirt under the guise of admiration for my horticultural skill, you are entirely mistaken.”
“Oh, but I assure you,” he said, stepping just a little closer, “I am not mistaken at all. I simply observe facts. That you are clever, resourceful… and far more infuriating than any rose I have yet encountered.”
Her stomach twisted with irritation, and perhaps something else she dared not name. She turned away sharply, pretending to fuss with the last tie, but she felt his gaze on her, warm, teasing, and impossibly focused.
“Honestly, Your Grace,” she said through gritted teeth, “I do not understand why you find such joy in being insufferable.”
“Why?” he echoed, mock innocence in his tone. “Because it works so very well, my dear Lady Matilda. It keeps you on your toes, and I cannot imagine a more entertaining companion for an otherwise dull morning.”
Matilda ground her teeth, a small shiver of frustration and inexplicable thrill running through her. “I shall remember this day, Your Grace, and swear vengeance upon all roses as compensation for your audacity.”
Jasper’s laugh was low and rich, filling the quiet garden. “I shall accept your vengeance gladly, provided it comes with a smile, though I suspect that may be asking too much.”
She turned back to him, unable to prevent her eyes from flashing with both outrage and a reluctant admiration. “Do not mistake my composure for weakness, Duke,” she said primly, though the faint twitch at her lips betrayed her.
He inclined his head, with that infuriating dimple still present. “Of course not, Lady Matilda. I merely admire your… spirited nature.”
And with that, she knew she would have to be on guard for the rest of the morning, for Jasper had resumed his old, infuriating ways.