Chapter Fourteen
Jasper
Jasper didn’t know how he was going to survive dinner.
Not with Jane standing there looking like she belonged in the stuffy grandeur of Mulgrave Hall.
Like she belonged with him .
In vain, he had attempted to banish that thought and regain his composure, but it was a lost cause the moment Jane had stepped into the drawing room and the world around him faded to nothing next to her sharp brilliance. One glance was all it took for Jasper to feel that peculiar tug—the one he was beginning to realize would have pulled him anywhere, so long as it was in her wake.
There she was, wearing a dress that suited every tempting inch of her, donning a smile that he recognized as a mask to cover her bone-deep apprehension. All he wanted was to go to her, to put her at ease, to take her arm in his and present her to the room as she ought to be presented, as his equal.
As his .
Christ, the thought was intoxicating, even though he knew Jane belonged to no one save herself. Jasper had watched as she met his friends and the apprehension faded and Jane’s confidence at last shone through. He should have known she’d handle herself admirably, and that his worry had been for naught. Even disadvantaged as she was, Jane was a force to be reckoned with. He knew that.
He simply didn’t want anyone else to know it.
Christ. I need to get a grip on myself. Jasper should feel no ownership over her and had no desire to mark her as his, like some lesser man might do. So he avoided her, like a coward, because avoiding her was easier than acknowledging what she meant to him.
The problem was Edgar.
“Jasper, she is exquisite,” his friend had whispered in his ear as Jane conversed with Lucian, her smile ready and her eyes alight. Jasper could hardly blame him for noticing, but it was unlike Edgar to be so immediately entranced. He was famous for his ability to judge character, so it was both distressing and reassuring that he was drawn to Jane based on so little.
“She’s attached,” he had replied through gritted teeth.
“To you?” Edgar always had been vexingly perceptive.
“Of course not,” Jasper had said, his irritation obvious. “She is all but engaged to a man back in Buckinghamshire.” The words, though false, felt like poison on his lips. He cleared his throat. “I merely wish to make her status known.”
Edgar had nodded, his brow raised. “Duly noted.”
It only got worse once Helena and Jane had made it through the rest of the gentlemen in the room, save for Edgar. Somehow the fates had contrived against him and Jasper had been forced to introduce them himself. And then Jane had offered his friend her bloody hand and whatever good sense remained in Jasper had left him entirely. He had been an unforgivable ass. He knew that now, but in the moment, he could not have helped himself.
Charitably, he could put it down to wanting to protect her. But it was more than that. Jane had walked right through the walls he had built to keep others away, and she had done it without him noticing. How easy it had been to let her in, and how welcome her presence had become. But she deserved so much better than a broken man such as he, a man of sternness and barbs and impenetrable grief. Jane deserved a man whole.
He’d watched as her face fell and knew he was the cause of it, silently swearing he would atone for it in due course, starting by treating her as she ought to be treated, not like a prize to be won. When Edgar had offered her his arm, Jasper had forced himself to stay silent. When Jane’s eyes had begged him to say the words that might as well have been emblazoned on his chest, he had done the impossible by walking away, his hand burning with the unspent desire to take Jane’s.
Isobel was right. Jane was a smart woman. She would not be wooed by any of his friends, because in the end, none of their attentions or intentions mattered when Jane had no foundation to stand upon without her memory.
Let Edgar charm her. Let Clarence make an utter fool out of himself. None of them knew the real Jane. They might see her as a prospect now, but her lack of memory would preclude her from any serious form of courtship, and they couldn’t very well reveal the truth to any of the guests.
The best thing Jasper could do for her was give her room to find herself again.
He walked the short distance to the dining room alone, knowing there’d be another gentleman to escort Lady Louisa, as he had been meant to. He needed a moment to clear his head and forget the look on Jane’s face when he’d been unforgivably rude.
The dining table sagged under the weight of all the dishes and candles. Mulgrave Hall had not seen a feast such as this since Jasper’s mother was the lady of the house, and he was surprised by how pleased he was to see it restored to its former glory. Helena had more than outdone herself, especially on such short notice.
As he waited for the rest of his family and guests to settle around the table, he did his best to avoid looking at Jane. Isobel squeezed his shoulder reassuringly as she passed, seeming to sense the turmoil he was going through. He hoped she was particularly perceptive, and that the strain wasn’t obvious to everyone.
But no, his guests seemed content. Jovial even.
Before anyone else could contemplate it, August stood, raising his glass. “A small toast to good health and good company,” he began. “May both endure.”
“Hear, hear,” called George, his glass raised. The rest of the table echoed him. August caught Jasper’s eye and gave him a small nod. It was all the sentiment Jasper could handle, and he was surprised August had taken it upon himself to deliver it. Perhaps his brother was more observant than Jasper gave him credit for.
Thankfully, the rest of his friends sensed that was enough toasts for one evening. The servants placed steaming bowls of carrot soup before them, and the guests began to serve themselves from the many dishes of salads.
“This is quite a full table, Jasper,” Lucian called, his voice carrying over the heads of many.
“The proper number of guests should be more than the Graces, less than the Muses, as they say,” Miss Beatrice replied through pursed, disapproving lips in between minuscule bites of anchovy and endive salad. “Any more than nine is not particularly well bred.”
“Ah, but surely the men at this table count as half a Muse at best, Miss Beatrice,” said Clarence with a wink. “Which makes our number of guests an entirely appropriate eight and a half.”
“Miss Danvers, how are you liking a Surrey winter?” asked Lady Louisa warmly.
It seemed to take Jane a moment to recall her alias. “I find I am liking it a great deal. It has been a nice respite.”
“Though, I imagine it’s not altogether different from a Buckinghamshire winter,” drawled George, and Jasper could have smacked him.
“No,” Jane began, placing her soup spoon back in her bowl. “But you must agree that any deviation from one’s regular life can feel a great deal like a holiday, even if the climes are so similar.”
“I find a house party at the estate next to mine to be a genuine escape from reality,” Edgar added in support of Jane, who gave him an appreciative smile in return.
“Is your estate very far from here, Mr. Ashwell?” she asked. Did she look pale to anyone else?
“It is very close indeed, near the village of West Clandon, if you are familiar. But I tend to reside at my townhome in London far more often.”
On that note, the table dissolved into many different conversations. Jasper forced himself to loosen his grip on his knife as he watched Edgar make Jane laugh. He was making a mess of the rump of beef he was meant to be carving. Had Jane ever laughed so freely with him? Doubtful, as he had been a stern bastard for much of their time together. If Jane were to bless him with a laugh so sincere, he’d probably devote his life to pursuing it.
Eventually, he realized he had to stop studying her, seeking even an ounce of her discomfort. What could he do about it, anyway? Half of the guests surely believed he hated her, and the rest were likely able to see through his miserable attempt at disguising his true feelings. Better to trust her to handle herself.
As he sat through courses and disaster did not strike, the pressure he felt to perform lifted somewhat. Now he was able to observe, to breathe. George and Lady Louisa engaged him in mindless but pleasing talk of the minor scandals he had missed in his months away. It almost seemed normal, to have the room filled with his friends and family, to feel something other than the crushing weight of grief upon his shoulders.
What pleased him most of all was to see Helena and Isobel smile. There hadn’t been much occasion for their joy the past year, but to see them so engaged and lively bestowed upon Jasper a sense of peace that had long eluded him. Perhaps he wasn’t failing them. Perhaps this was what his parents would have wanted, though Jasper would loathe having to admit it to Isobel. She had pushed him out of his seclusion, and he was beginning to suspect she had been right to do it. Was he ready to tear down his walls entirely? To acknowledge what they’d lost? No, that seemed a distant occasion indeed. But the fact that he was able to sit here at a table filled with people, more specifically, the people who knew him before , seemed a decent start, one that had felt impossible even a week ago.
After all, Jasper’s only goal upon ascending to the earldom had been to see his siblings well situated, but he couldn’t do that if he was shut up in Surrey, allowing the world to pass them by. Isobel should have a proper Season, though the thought of it both horrified and delighted him. Perhaps he could induce Aunt Adelaide to stay and aid him in presenting his vexatious sister to the world. God knew he’d need all the assistance he could get in that regard, even if his better senses rioted against the idea of prolonging her stay. She was the only family they had left, and so he must draw upon his well of patience and ensure his siblings felt closer to her, even if her relationship with their father had been less than loving.
And Helena would have to see to her duties as the younger Dowager Duchess of Pembroke, duties she’d been avoiding for too long now, as Marcus’s brother was still a year or so away from taking them on himself. Surely the elder Dowager Duchess’s patience toward Helena was wearing thin. Jasper would do what he could to help her, but seeing as he himself was floundering as a reluctant earl, he couldn’t imagine he’d be much use to the dukedom Marcus had left behind. Still, Helena shouldn’t have to face it alone.
And lastly, he needed to get his brothers in line. He glanced over at Freddie, marveling once again at how much he had grown in the last few months. He had left in September a mere boy and returned a man, or something close to it. What were they feeding him at Eton? Freddie didn’t seem as wayward as August, but as Jasper recalled, he was susceptible to his brother’s dubious guidance. Jasper had grown up under the unflagging, dutiful influence of Anthony and he had still fallen off the path from time to time. If August was all Freddie had to look up to, it didn’t bode well. The boy was sixteen. He needed structure, and August needed a firm hand, even at twenty-one.
That settled it. He would have to reenter Society, for his siblings’ sakes, and to take his place in the House of Lords, as duty now required of him.
It had nothing to do with Jane without-a-surname and Jasper’s increasing concern for her. Though, he was beginning to wonder what they would do if her memories never returned. The human mind was a complex instrument. Perhaps her recovery would take months. Months in which she would need stability. Comfort. The best doctors money could buy. The Maycotts were in a position to help her, should she need it. It wasn’t the most displeasing prospect, to think of her as a more permanent fixture.
But all feelings of warmth and progress faded when Jane rose suddenly from her chair, looking as pale as she had when they’d come upon her in the road. Their guests fell silent as she took two or three unsteady steps before wavering and collapsing onto the ground. All at once, the table descended into chaos, but Jasper heard nothing, his focus only on Jane as he moved with an impossible haste to her side.
As her seat mate, Lucian was already tending to Jane, feeling for her pulse as Edgar stared down at her in shock.
“What happened?” Jasper managed to gasp out, falling to his knees beside her.
“I—I do not know,” Edgar replied, fear weighing his words. “One moment we were discussing bloody Gainsborough, the next she was excusing herself. Said she needed some air.”
Lucian gripped Jasper’s forearm, forcing him to return to the present, to let panic loosen its hold upon him. “She’s fainted, Jasper. Likely something to do with her head injury.” He picked her up in one swift motion. “Show me to her room, she must rest.”
As they left the dining room, Jasper heard Helena speaking, likely calming their guests with her signature steadiness. It didn’t work on Jasper, however. Not when Jane seemed to be deteriorating rather than improving. When she woke, he was going to give her an earful about setting off into a storm to prove a point. If she woke.
No, he would not fall victim to despair. Not yet. Not when she had been a light for him. A beacon through the dark. If anything, Jane had given him a reason to hope again. He would not dishonor her by retreating to his previous ways.
They made it to her chambers in record time. Lucian laid her down on the bed gently and began rolling up his shirtsleeves. He pressed his fingers along various points on Jane’s head.
“Get me my kit, will you?” he asked, not looking away from his patient as Jasper retrieved the case of medical supplies Lucian never went without. “There are contusions all over her skull, Jasper. Her hair hides most of them. I can hardly believe she’s been upright since her injury.”
“Will she be all right?” His voice cracked as Lucian unstoppered a vial. He was ready to send for a whole team of physicians, if necessary. Damn the storm. He could not lose someone else.
Lucian sighed. “She shouldn’t be so stimulated.” He pulled back the bandage on her temple, revealing a somewhat healed wound. “The cut has not reopened,” Lucian offered, dabbing at it with a gauze smelling strongly of antiseptic before he got to the process of dressing it with a new bandage, taking care to shape it with the surgical scissors from his kit.
After a time, he covered Jane with the counterpane and stood, which Jasper understood to mean the crisis was averted for now. “I’m surprised her physician approved of her attendance this week. Head injuries are quite difficult to manage.”
The truth lay heavy on Jasper’s tongue. If anyone should know it, it was Lucian. What if Jane worsened? He would have to know the extent of her injuries in order to truly help her. But what if the truth put Jane in danger? No, he thought. Out of everyone, Lucian was the most noble. The most trustworthy. He could help Jane. Dr. Ramsay wouldn’t get to them in time, and there was hardly a better doctor than one of the Prince of Wales’s own personal physicians.
“It’s worse than you think, Lucian.” He pushed his hair back from his face and took a deep breath. “We discovered Jane in the road not three days ago, unconscious, likely having been thrown from her horse.”
“My God,” he exclaimed. “She’s lucky to be alive.”
“Indeed, though her injury is more severe than meets the eye.” He paused. Took another deep breath. “Jane is a stranger to us, and she has yet to recover her memory.”
Lucian let out a low whistle. “Amnesia, is it? I’ve not come across that in my career. How extensive is the loss?”
“Well, to begin with, Jane isn’t even her real name.”
Lucian waited, perhaps for Jasper to admit he was joking. “You mean to tell me she remembers nothing?”
“She can recall inconsequential things, like books and artists. But her own past is a mystery to her.”
Lucian looked back over at Jane. “Remarkable,” he whispered. “And Dr. Ramsay believes she will recover?”
Jasper’s eyes narrowed. “Do you not?”
“I didn’t say that,” he began. “But head injuries are pernicious things. I should think the ability to recover lies with each individual patient. We don’t know anything about Jane’s health prior to this. Perhaps this is one of many concussions she has suffered. If that was the case, then I’d imagine this could be the culmination of many different injuries, and perhaps a full recovery wouldn’t be possible. But if this is her first, then I should expect her mind and body to be up to the task, but only if she is given the proper time and space to heal.”
Jasper’s heart sank. “She went out into the storm today.” It felt like he was admitting to some great sin, even though it had been Jane’s choice.
“Why in God’s name was she out in the storm?”
“She overheard me trying to get August off her scent. You recall how he is.” Lucian nodded knowingly. “I may have said some unflattering things about her that aren’t, strictly speaking, true.”
Lucian studied him. “She overheard you insult her?”
“It wasn’t as if I meant any of it.”
Lucian scoffed. “It’s not as if that matters.”
“Fair point,” he admitted. “In any event, I went after her. She had been out there for some time. Could that have anything to do with her fainting at dinner?”
“I hardly think one would need to have studied medicine to know that walking headlong into a snowstorm isn’t conducive to good health in the physically fit, let alone an invalid.” Jasper winced. “But it does help to paint a more promising picture for her outlook going forward.”
Hope flared in his chest. “What do you mean?”
“I think we can chalk up her current condition to the events of the day. I do not think it means she will continue to decline.” He reached for her hand, his fingers encircling her wrist as he pulled his pocket watch from his vest pocket. “Her pulse is no longer racing. I should expect she needs a good night’s rest and a hearty breakfast before she feels more like herself.”
Jasper let out the breath he had been holding in, letting relief soften his posture. “Thank you, Lucian. I trust that I do not need to express the danger Jane would be in if the truth about her were revealed.”
He paused. “You don’t think any of your guests would pose a threat? They are your friends.”
It wasn’t Jasper’s friends that concerned him. He still hadn’t forgotten Jane’s plaintive plea for protection when he held her in his arms. That hadn’t been Jane without-a-surname. That had been the real Jane, the one even she did not remember, and she had been in some sort of danger. Until Jasper knew what it was, keeping the truth about her a secret was the best way for him to protect her.
It didn’t matter if Lucian didn’t understand his motive. “I need to know you’ll keep it to yourself.”
Lucian’s eyes narrowed. “Like it or not, Jane is my patient and that means she is entitled to my discretion.”
“I didn’t mean to slight you—”
“You haven’t,” he interrupted, putting his dinner jacket back on.
“I only wish to see her well.”
Lucian nodded, and they both looked to Jane, who appeared to be sleeping peacefully.
After a time, Lucian nudged him. “What about you?”
Jasper sighed. “What about me?”
“You seem…agitated.”
Jasper let out a mirthless laugh. “It’s been a trying few days.”
Lucian looked at him pensively. “Bad memories rising to the surface, I’d imagine.”
He was treading upon dangerous territory. Jasper didn’t take the bait. “I don’t know what you mean,” he replied with a sniff.
“I hope you…” he began. “I hope you feel like you can talk to me, if ever you need to.”
Could I? The mere idea of it had been an impossibility for so long, but many of Jasper’s long-held beliefs had been shattered during the past few days. Perhaps he was wrong to think he could not unburden himself with his closest friends, the very ones he had spent the last year shutting out.
Sensing a lack of resistance, Lucian continued. “Losing Annabelle and Anthony and your parents in quick succession was a tragedy, the magnitude of which many of us will never face, but that does not mean you are alone, Jasper.”
Jasper’s throat was clogged with all of the things he wished to say to Lucian. He had survived this long by never speaking of the loss that had shattered his world, never letting himself feel the full breadth of pain that had invaded his body, woven into his bones and stitched into his tissue. Could it even be excised? Did the Jasper from before, the one untouched by death, remain underneath?
Lucian continued, steadfastly ignoring Jasper’s discomfort. “Pretending they didn’t exist won’t work forever.”
“I know that,” Jasper interjected.
“Do you?” he asked. “Helena tells me otherwise.”
“Helena’s one to talk,” he muttered. But he had to wonder if they were right. By not allowing himself to feel, had he been preventing himself from healing? Had he been prolonging his suffering, or worse yet, the suffering of his siblings? It had felt necessary, the silence surrounding what had happened, what they had lost. But was it serving a purpose any longer?
That exploration would have to wait.
“Speaking of my sister, has she spoken to you of the pain that plagues her? Three years have passed since her accident and she is yet to make a full recovery. How much longer will she have to wait?”
Lucian raised his brow. “Helena is also entitled to my discretion, Jasper.”
Jasper sighed, having known what his friend’s reply would be before he spoke. “I had to try.”
“I’ll do everything I can for her. You have my word.”
“Thank you, Lucian. For everything.” He hoped his meaning was clear.
Lucian nodded. “Jane shouldn’t be left alone tonight. Perhaps Helena, or a maid—”
“I will stay with her.” He had already decided, but saying it aloud was another matter entirely.
Lucian hesitated. “Do you think that’s a good idea?”
“I can’t leave her, Lucian. I can’t…” He didn’t know how to put into words the trauma that was watching Annabelle die while he sat there powerless to stop it, or how similar it felt to see Jane suffer with no end in sight.
But Lucian was a doctor. He had borne witness to his fair share of suffering and helplessness. He had felt the cruel sting of fate, the indifference of God’s will. He placed a hand on Jasper’s shoulder.
“I’m not going to stop you, but I am going to remind you that you must be careful, Jasper. Jane is an unmarried woman. She has no power here, while you have it in spades.”
“I would never do anything to harm her.”
“That much is clear. But you can hurt someone without intending to.”
Jasper knew that much. After letting his words settle uncomfortably around them, Lucian tipped his head.
“Don’t hesitate to send for me if she worsens. And make sure she drinks a good deal of water when she wakes.”
“Thank you, Lucian. Will you make some excuse to explain my absence? Something of plausible importance but utterly dull to prevent further investigation?”
“I will.” His friend turned to leave but paused at the door. “Be careful.”
Lucian was correct, but it didn’t change the fact that Jasper wasn’t leaving her side until he knew she was all right.
But it wasn’t only Jane he needed to protect.
If he wasn’t heedful, Jasper was at risk of erasing the progress he had fought so hard for. To lose someone again, whether by calamity or circumstance, would wound him in a way he suspected he would never recover from. He couldn’t go back to the darkness of a year before. The Maycotts wouldn’t survive it.
A soft knock on the door interrupted his thoughts. After a moment, Isobel stood beside him.
“All is well with our guests?” he asked absently.
“Helena managed them quite efficiently. Only Beatrice made any fuss while everyone else soldiered on through dinner and parlor games before retreating to their rooms.”
“Lucian offered a sufficient explanation?”
“He said you’d received a most urgent missive from your solicitor that you needed to see to immediately.” She let out an uncharitable laugh at the thought. “Lucky for you none of our esteemed guests have witnessed you quite literally flee in the face of any correspondence from dear Mister Sheridan.” She dragged another armchair over to Jasper’s. “So your scandalous secret is safe for the time being. Shall we take turns, then?” she asked, gesturing to Jane’s sleeping form.
His heart swelled, but guilt stole in behind any warm feelings. “You don’t have to stay, Isobel.”
Isobel gave him a doubtful look. “Tell me, Brother, who will hide you under the bed when Aunt Adelaide arrives unannounced at the crack of dawn?”
A dry laugh escaped him. “And you think you’re up to the task?”
She gave him a knowing grin. “Let’s just say I have experience in the matter.”
Jasper could guess what she meant by that. “Have I failed you so thoroughly as a guardian?” It was asked lightly, but they both knew there was a deeper meaning to the question.
“I hardly think I needed one,” she began, her tone light. But then her face fell slightly and her tone turned more serious. “I was a girl of eighteen when we lost them. Many girls that age get married, some mother children. Do I feel delayed, in some respects? Yes, but that wasn’t your fault, Jasper. Time seemed to freeze for us all a year ago. But I suspect it’s thawing now.” She didn’t prod him or expect him to assure her that things would be different. For Isobel, it was enough that he had shifted, even if it was by mere inches. Complain as he had, Jasper had accepted the arrival of his friends in the end. “So no, you have not failed me, Jasper. I suspect you’ve more to fear in failing yourself.”
He couldn’t respond to that, not when the truth of it sat heavy on his chest. He cleared his throat. “You don’t mind sleeping in a chair?”
She wiggled deeper into it and put her feet up on the ottoman. “You’re not the only one who’s concerned about our Miss Danvers, you know. I’ve come to like her a great deal, mostly because she doesn’t hesitate to put you in your place.”
“That she doesn’t,” he replied, thinking Isobel didn’t know the half of it.
They spoke a little more of trivial things before succumbing to sleep, both falling into it rather easily, considering they sat upright.
After a restless night spent jerking awake every half hour or so, Jasper awoke in the predawn light, the room hardly brighter than it had been in the deepness of night. He wasn’t confused; even the stolen stretches of sleep hadn’t robbed Jasper of his awareness of Jane. He looked to her bed now, where she stirred slightly. Isobel snored lightly, sprawled as she was in her chair, Mr. Darcy curled in her lap.
Jasper stood, intending to check more closely on Jane. He took a step toward the bed. The floor creaked. Jane’s brow furrowed, but it was Isobel who woke.
“Jasper, what are you doing?” she hissed, her words turning into a yawn.
“I wanted to make sure—”
“You need to leave before anyone catches you in here. Aunt Adelaide is very fond of her morning inspections.”
“You’re probably right.” Still, he hesitated.
“I’ll make sure she’s all right. And that she eats. You can come check on her at a less scandalous hour.”
He nodded and left the room, intending to put as much distance between himself and Jane as he could before he ran into anyone.
But then he heard her speak, and his feet stopped moving before he could think better of it.
“What time is it?” she croaked out. Jasper stepped back toward the door, not revealing himself but eager to hear a bit more from Jane before he departed.
“Indecently early. How do you feel?” Jasper hoped Isobel gave her water.
Jane audibly drank what sounded like the entire glass. “There is a dull thud in my head…” She paused, realization dawning. “I fainted, didn’t I?”
“I’m afraid you did,” replied Isobel with false gravity. “But the doctor tended to you, and he thinks all will be well after a rest and a hearty meal.”
“Oh, what a menace I am,” she cried lightly. “And I ruined your brother’s first dinner with his friends in ages.”
“I don’t think he cares about that, Jane,” Isobel replied warmly.
“You don’t?” she asked skeptically. “I’m sure I made a spectacle of myself, which is precisely the opposite of what I intended to do, and yet it seems to be all that I am capable of these days.”
Jasper couldn’t help but smile. Isobel spoke as though suppressing a laugh. “I assure you, we are only relieved to see you well.”
“You were here all night?” Jane asked in between sips of water.
“We had to ensure you recovered.”
“We?” Jane missed nothing.
Isobel paused. Jasper wasn’t sure if she would reveal the truth. She seemed to think the less Jane knew of his attentiveness, the better. He wasn’t sure her concern was misplaced. Maybe it would be better if Jane didn’t know how affected he was by her.
“Jasper and I stayed the night,” she said lightly.
But Jane could not have been more surprised. “The stern bastard was my caretaker?” Had he been so convincing when he pulled himself away from her? The distance he strove to put between them seemed the greatest farce to him, but Jane appeared to believe it, and thus, the worst of him.
“You’re surprised?” Isobel asked, playful skepticism lacing her words.
Jasper’s heart stilled. A part of him felt guilty, hearing Jane’s unguarded thoughts without her knowledge. But a larger part of him desired to know where he stood with her, not that it would change anything. Besides, she had eavesdropped on him more than once. He’d consider them even.
“I just didn’t think he cared.”
Her words gave him pause. Because he did care. More than she knew.
Far, far more than he should.