Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
Jasper had barely reached the edge of the Kenton gardens when he spotted Matilda, standing by the pond, with her fingers skimming the water’s surface as if the ripples could carry away her worries.
He paused, before approaching. How utterly predictable that she would seek solitude, as though the world and he would leave her in peace.
“Lady Matilda,” he called, in a voice that was smooth and lightly teasing, stepping closer. “I trust I am not disturbing your… solitary musings?”
She looked up, eyes flashing, cheeks faintly pink. That sharp, proper glare, the one that always unsettled him, met his, and he felt a thrill at the challenge.
“I was not expecting company,” she said coolly, “nor do I intend to entertain any, particularly from a gentleman who delights in provocation.”
He inclined his head, dimples showing. “Ah, but you look far too serene to remain unchallenged. Surely a little company will not ruin the peace of the pond.”
Matilda bristled, stepping back, though her eyes stayed on him. “I assure you, your presence is quite sufficient to ruin it on its own.”
Jasper chuckled softly. “I will take that as a compliment, then. It seems I have a talent for disrupting serenity.”
He saw the slight catch in her breath and the way she turned her gaze to the pond as if trying to reclaim some semblance of calm. A slow, satisfied grin spread across his face. She was trying to remain composed, and it was utterly futile.
Stepping a pace closer, he lowered his voice with mock solemnity. “Do not misunderstand, Lady Matilda. I have no intention of ruining your walk… unless, of course, you insist upon standing in my way.”
Her silence and her attempt to ignore him only made him more certain of his power in this little game. He could see it in every tight line of her posture, in every flush of her cheeks. Jasper knew, as he often did, that no lady had ever so completely rattled him and yet drawn him in.
Jasper leaned slightly against a tree. “I was actually hoping for a moment of peace myself,” he said lightly, his tone teasing but just enough sincerity hidden beneath.
Matilda’s eyes narrowed, and a faint edge of incredulity colored her voice. “Peace? I thought you lived for chaos, Your Grace.”
He shrugged, tossing a casual glance her way. “It only looks that way. A man must have his reputation, after all.”
She huffed softly, crossing her arms. “And you cultivate it so very well, I might add.”
Before he could respond, a sudden gust of wind tore across the gardens, whipping Matilda’s shawl from her shoulders. It caught in the breeze and fluttered helplessly, landing with a soggy splash in the shallow edge of the pond.
Matilda gasped and stepped forward, with horror written across her face.
“My shawl!” she exclaimed, rushing to the water’s edge, only to recoil at the thought of wetting her delicate skirts.
Jasper’s lips twitched, barely restraining a laugh. “It seems your serenity is more fragile than I imagined,” he said, taking a step closer. “Shall I retrieve it for you, or do you plan to dive in yourself?”
She shot him a sharp, indignant look. “I do not require your assistance, thank you very much. Though I might have to,” she paused, biting her lip, “if it is not rescued promptly.”
He leaned closer, voice lowering in mock severity. “Do you now? That would be most unbecoming, Lady Matilda, to wade into the pond in pursuit of a shawl.”
Her cheeks warmed, and she glared at him in exasperation, even as a hint of amusement tugged at the corners of her mouth. “And what would you have me do, pray tell? Stand here and watch it float away into oblivion?”
Jasper chuckled, shaking his head. “Hardly. But you must admit, it makes for a most dramatic moment. Perhaps even worth the trouble.”
Matilda groaned, bending slightly toward the water, and Jasper could not help the small, reluctant thrill that shot through him. Even the simplest mishaps became fodder for their endless, infuriating banter.
Jasper watched her kneel at the edge of the shallow water, with her fingertips brushing the wet edge of the shawl, and he could not suppress the faint smirk tugging at his lips. She was all sharp lines and careful composure, and yet utterly flustered. It was a sight that never failed to amuse him.
“Need a hand?” he asked lightly, leaning casually against the nearest tree, with his arms crossed. The casual stance was meant to look nonchalant, though he was fully aware of the game he was playing.
“I can manage perfectly well on my own,” she snapped, though he caught the faint tremor in her voice that betrayed her frustration.
He let out a low chuckle. “I am certain you can. But you make it look… rather desperate, you know.”
Her grey eyes flashed at him, as sharp as a blade. “You are not very helpful, Your Grace.”
“I want to be helpful,” he said smoothly, stepping a careful pace closer, just enough to keep her on edge. “It is only that you refuse to let me assist.”
“To allow you to help me?” she repeated incredulously, her voice carrying the faintest note of scandalized outrage. “Never! Besides, I will never hear the end of it!”
Jasper tilted his head, amusement dancing in his eyes. “That is probably true,” he admitted. “And yet… here I am, ready and willing. The offer stands, should you reconsider.”
He watched her flare, cheeks warming, the tight lines of her posture, the sharp tilt of her chin. It was exquisite, this challenge of being near her, of wanting to help while being denied, of making her flustered without ever raising a hand in offense.
Matilda’s fingers grazed the edge of the shawl once more, and she muttered under her breath. “It would be simpler to leave it there than keep struggling.”
“I feel like such a villain,” she heard him say lightly from behind her, and she froze mid-motion, thinking it was merely the wind carrying her imagination. “Watching you struggle so, and yet forbidden to assist…”
She turned sharply, intending to tell him firmly that she would rather leave the shawl than have him meddle, but the words caught in her throat.
Jasper stood impossibly close, his blue eyes sparkling with mischief, and before she could step back, her foot slipped on the wet grass.
Instinctively, she flung her arms around the nearest solid thing, which happened to be him.
The next moment, they both toppled forward, plunging into the shallow edge of the pond with a spectacular splash.
Matilda’s skirts fanned around her, sodden, and her breath caught in a startled gasp.
Jasper sputtered first, his coat clinging to him as he swam upright, one arm instinctively around her to keep her from falling fully under.
“By all the saints,” he said, in a voice that was a mixture of amusement and exasperation, “Lady Matilda, I did not expect… quite this close an encounter.”
Matilda, drenched and sputtering, wrung her hands at the waterlogged skirts. “I… how could you? Why were you so close?!”
He leaned back slightly, still holding her steady, a grin tugging at his lips despite the soggy state of his coat. “I asked you to allow me to help. You refused. I simply could not stand idly by.”
She fixed him with a glare sharp enough to sting. “You are utterly impossible!” she exclaimed, as her voice trembled with fury. “You meddle in everything! And now, I am wet, all because of you!”
Jasper’s lips twitched with the barest hint of a smile, though his eyes were earnest. “I only meant to help,” he said, reaching out as if to steady her again.
“I told you I didn’t need your help!” she snapped, taking a half-step back, her soaked skirts clinging stubbornly to her legs. “I can manage perfectly well on my own, thank you very much. It is not your concern!”
He raised an eyebrow, clearly amused despite the soggy chaos surrounding them. “Ah, but we are godparents together, and everything concerning you becomes my concern, whether you wish it or not,” he said lightly, though she could detect the sincerity beneath the teasing tone.
Matilda’s cheeks flamed with frustration. “You are infuriating. I cannot imagine how anyone endures you!”
“Then consider me,” he said smoothly, allowing his grin to return, “an exercise in endurance. And I must say, you are proving quite formidable, wet skirts and all.”
She spun on her heel, muttering indignantly, “I do not wish to endure anything from you. You have caused enough mischief for one morning!”
Matilda turned on her heel, feeling the waterlogged skirts clinging to her legs, and began marching back toward the house. Her cheeks were still flushed from indignation and she feared they would remain that way for the rest of the day. How on earth was she to explain her wet state to everyone?
That was when she heard it.
“Matilda!”
She ignored the first shout of her name, thinking it must be the wind, or perhaps her imagination. When a second, louder call rang after her, she tightened her jaw and kept her pace, determined not to give him the satisfaction of turning.
It was the third time that his voice reached her that she finally spun around and froze.
There he stood, grinning like a madman, with one hand raised high and her shawl dangling triumphantly from his fingers.
“I helped you,” he called out to her playfully. “See?”
Matilda’s grey eyes flared, and her jaw set in fury. She did not move toward him. She did not even reach for the shawl. Instead, she turned sharply and stormed back toward the house.
Her voice rang behind her, though she did not look back. “I did not ask for your help before, Your Grace! And I do not need it now! You may keep your villainy to yourself!”
Several minutes later, Matilda burst through the doorway, dripping water onto the polished floor. Hazel and Cordelia, seated by the windows with a view of the gardens, both gasped at the sight.
“Good heavens, Matilda!” Cordelia exclaimed, springing to her feet. “What on earth has happened to you?”
Hazel’s hands flew to her chest, eyes wide in shock. “You are soaked through! How did this…?”
Matilda wrung her hands at her sides and let out a huff of exasperation.
“It was that insufferable Duke!” she explained, her voice rising in a mix of outrage and disbelief.
“I went for a walk by the pond and the wind blew my shawl into the water. Of course, he had to be there and he could not resist meddling.” She flailed one hand toward her drenched skirts.
“I lost balance and we both ended up in the water!”
Cordelia’s mouth opened, then closed again as she tried and failed to suppress a laugh. Hazel’s eyes narrowed in barely hidden amusement.
“Both of you?” Hazel echoed, incredulity coloring her tone. “You mean the Duke was in the pond as well?”
“Yes!” Matilda snapped, spinning slightly, feeling the damp curls sticking to her cheeks. “He… well, he was too close! And I had no choice but to grab him as I fell, and oh, it was a disaster!”
Cordelia finally laughed outright, clapping her hands together. “Oh, Matilda! I cannot say I am surprised. You two are hopeless together.”
Matilda’s lips pressed into a thin line, her cheeks burning. “I assure you, I had no part in making it a disaster. It was entirely him!”
Hazel exchanged a glance with Cordelia, her lips twitching with restrained humor. “Entirely him, you say? Somehow I feel that he will find this most entertaining to retell during dinner this evening.”
Matilda groaned, looking down at the puddle forming around her feet. “All I want is to be left in peace for the remainder of the afternoon.”
Cordelia only laughed louder, and Hazel shook her head with a fond sigh. “I think peace is rather the last thing that man intends to grant anyone, Matilda.”