Chapter Sixteen
Jasper
Never had a day passed so unbearably slowly for Jasper.
After spending the night by her side to ensure she continued breathing, he found he wanted nothing more than to know that Jane was all right. And yet, she hid from them, choosing instead to spend the day with Viola, he was told.
He himself had spent it with his friends, which should have distracted him from the aching absence of Jane, but even their antics could not shake his melancholy. He only hoped none of them had noticed, or if they had, they chalked it up to whatever bad news his solicitor’s letter might have delivered the night prior.
Mercifully, Helena seemed more than capable of steering the day in a less grave direction. She was a natural-born hostess, he realized, as she guided them from a lively round of charades to luncheon to cards. He did his best to remain present and engaged, but all he could really think about was Jane. At least he had the sense to know he could not check on her, torturous as it was to go on without knowing how she fared. The night before had been a gamble. He couldn’t rely on being lucky once more.
Eventually, the high-stakes poker game came down to Clarence and Edgar, which proved diverting enough, and Jasper was at last able to loosen his shoulders and watch as they sought to destroy each other most vigorously. Everyone else crowded around the table, even Miss Beatrice, though she seemed entirely perturbed by Isobel’s passion for the game.
“I bet it all,” said Clarence, pushing his remaining chips to the center of the table.
“He bluffs, Ashwell!” cried Selby. It was difficult to tell with Clarence, whose skill as an actor paled only in comparison to his ability to charm a room. Edgar studied him nonetheless, searching for a crack in his unruffled facade.
To Jasper’s eye, Edgar himself was impenetrable—neither confident in nor panicked by his hand. But was it enough?
“I call,” he announced, pushing the rest of his own chips forward. A hush fell over the room.
“Let us see, then, gents,” said August.
Edgar turned over his cards, revealing four eights and a six of hearts, four of a kind. He sat back and allowed a satisfied smirk to play at his lips.
“Lady Louisa, I must apologize,” Clarence began. Had he told her he would win in her honor? Jasper hadn’t been paying close attention. “It must be difficult, being the sister of such a miserably bad poker player.”
He turned his cards and revealed a bloody royal flush, and the room immediately broke out into both raucous cheers and accusations of cheating.
The rest of the afternoon carried on in much the same manner, and then it was time for dinner. Truth be told, Jasper felt some measure of relief when Jane did not appear at the table, not because she had any reason to be ashamed or to avoid their guests, but because he was not sure how he would react to seeing her after spending an entire indecent night by her side.
Evidently, she needed her space, and he would ensure she received it.
Jasper was relieved when dinner ended and everyone seemed keen to return to their rooms rather than carry on playing parlor games. He waited for them all to depart, until only Isobel remained, eyeing him wearily from across the dining room.
He poured a glass of scotch and gulped it back in one go, seeking a reprieve from swirling thoughts of Jane. He looked to his sister and poured a new glass, raising it to her in offering.
She joined him by their father’s bottles and took the glass, sipping slowly.
“Father would not approve of your lack of respect for his beloved beverage,” she teased, continuing to savor her drink. “You did well today,” she added. “One could hardly sense your inner turmoil.”
He drank another glass, relishing the burn of the scotch on his tongue. “Good night, Isobel.”
“Do not do anything foolish, Brother,” she warned as she left, offering him no time to craft a response. It didn’t matter. All Jasper intended to do was find his bed and silence his racing thoughts with merciful slumber.
The halls were dark, save for the light that leaked out from Viola’s room. Not for the first time, Jasper moved to extinguish whatever candle his sister had left burning while scribbling away and subsequently falling asleep with ink-stained fingers. It was something of a ritual for them. But as he approached and caught a glimpse into her room through the crack in the door, his heart stopped.
Viola was not in her bed, nor was she alone.
There was Jane, lit by the soft glow of candlelight with a book in one hand, Viola’s hand in her other. His sister was asleep, unguarded, and more at peace than he could recall seeing her.
He watched as she lowered her book and noticed that Viola slept soundly, Jane’s face creasing with emotion. He felt that same warmth blossom in his chest to know that Viola was so cared for, and by someone like Jane, who had no reason to be so kind in secret. There weren’t any schemes at play here, only a woman who knew the sharp pain of loss, attempting to soften it for someone else.
In that moment, Jasper knew with stunning clarity that he was both too far gone and not at all what Jane needed.
The weight of his twin realizations almost bowled him over. He stepped backward, the floor creaking beneath him. His eyes flashed back to Jane, who looked up in his direction. She couldn’t see him, he was sure of it, but still he fled, not wishing to be discovered or to intrude upon her quietude. She had stayed away for a reason. He must respect that.
His chambers were cold, the fire in the hearth nearly burned out. He knelt before it, stirring the dormant embers back to life as he added a log on the grate and tried in vain to push thoughts of Jane from his mind.
Lucian had really struck a nerve with him earlier when he’d warned Jasper to be careful.
Jasper felt the need for caution in his bones, but he was beginning to worry it was too late for him to change course. He knew he was far too close to Jane for any sort of objectivity at this point. His path had been altered the moment he and his sisters had found her in the road.
No. They had not become entangled then, when Jane was simply someone in need of assistance. Their connection had not been an instant one. Hell, Jasper had thought she could be a criminal until yesterday morning. There had been plenty of chances for him to distance himself, opportunities to establish boundaries. But when it came to Jane, it was so much easier to simply give in and let the current take him.
If pressed, he wouldn’t have been able to name what it was that existed between them. Some unholy marriage of traded barbs and desire and tension and a warmth he hadn’t thought he’d feel again. He didn’t think either of them had expected it, nor did he regret something that had happened so naturally.
But it scared him. Deep down, Jasper knew there were similarities between what he felt for Jane and how he had fallen for Annabelle. A headlong tumble into the unknown, a lack of control or conscious effort, a feeling of it being real long before it made sense.
He knew what he must do. Jane was at Mulgrave Hall to recover, and a gentleman would not do anything to impede her in that regard.
So he would resist the pull of her, for Jane’s own good.
Whether it would be good for him was another matter entirely.
…
After a fitful night’s sleep, all Jasper wanted was a cup of coffee and some solitude. So he rose early and made his way to the dining room seeking both, but not obtaining either. It seemed just about everyone was present, their plates full and cups steaming. George and Edgar were buried in fresh copies of The Times , Miss Beatrice was deep into penning a letter, and Lucian was spreading marmalade on a thick slice of toast.
“My lord?” came a soft voice from behind him as he poured the final dregs from a pot of coffee into his still-empty cup.
He turned to find Lady Louisa looking as fresh as a daisy, despite the early hour. “How may I help?” he asked, wondering when Society had done away with the custom of guests sleeping late. Jasper had never been one to indulge in a lie-in, but he wasn’t sure he liked the idea of tolerating Clarence Meadows before noon.
Perhaps their presence so early in the day was the mark of a successful party, he thought optimistically. Still, he could have done with a fresh pot at the very least.
“I only wondered if Miss Danvers is quite well? I know we all missed her yesterday.”
Beatrice sniffed as if to indicate that she was not to be included among those who missed Jane, but otherwise he got the sense that Lady Louisa spoke for the room, and he had to admit it warmed his heart a little to know that Jane had made such an immediate impression upon his friends.
But saying as much would be a scandal.
“You’ll have to ask Sir Hill, Lady Louisa. I’m afraid I have not been kept abreast of her condition.”
He noticed Lucian’s knowing smirk over Louisa’s shoulder and cleared his throat in an effort to remind his friend of the importance of discretion.
Louisa turned to Lucian. “Well?” she asked. “How does she fare?”
Lucian swallowed some toast and took a sip of tea. “She was much improved when I checked on her this morning. I suspect we’ll be able to entice her to join us soon enough.”
Jasper wasn’t so sure. In fact, he worried that without prompting, Jane might do her damnedest to avoid their guests, burdened by the incorrect belief that she had disappointed him in some way, or embarrassed herself. But he couldn’t retrieve her himself, nor could he direct someone else to do so, not without arousing suspicion.
He’d have to get creative, and as Viola skipped into the room, flanked by Freddie and August, he knew exactly how he would do it.
“Viola, what do you think about trimming the tree today?”
His sister froze mid-stride and gasped. “Do you mean it?”
“It’s not going to decorate itself, is it? And you’ve a room full of people ready to help.”
She looked around at her unwitting assistants, her smile wide until it fell. “But what about Miss Danvers?”
Jasper feigned nonchalance. “Why, you should invite her as well.” Not for his benefit, no, but for Jane to feel like a welcomed guest. He knew Viola would be most persuasive, given that she was running from the room before he finished the sentence.
August gave him a sly look. “I didn’t think you were the trimming type, Brother.”
“People can change, August.”
He shrugged. “Usually not for the better, in my experience.”
Jasper had to believe his brother was wrong.