Chapter Twenty-One
Jasper
Jasper had no words for the effect Jane had upon him.
Mere words were paltry compared to the feeling that had burst in his chest when she’d come into view at the top of the stairs, wearing a gown that seemed to have been made for her, the very air between them warming with each step she descended. It was the flick of a switch. She was incandescent, and he a man disarmed, basking in her light. There were no walls between them, no more masks for him to don. Jasper wanted only to protect her. Shelter her. Love her.
Christ, am I thinking of love? He tried to dismiss it, but once considered, the thought that he might love her would not leave him, and the closer they got to each other, the more feverish he became with the desire to tell her, tell everyone, and live the truth of it every day for the rest of his life.
He needed to get a grip on himself. Even if it was true, he would not shackle her to it. Not when she had expressed so plainly her desire to know herself before she knew anything else. What kind of man would he be if he tried?
Instead he bottled the knowledge up, refusing to let himself feel it lest he get lost in it. Lost in the idea of loving a woman so singularly able to see him for who he truly was, a woman without memories but with convictions enough to make up for it. He could hardly be blamed for finding her compelling.
But Jane had more important things to focus on, and sitting across from her in the carriage, he could tell she was afraid. She didn’t say it, but the closer they got to the Banfield estate, the smaller she became, as if by shrinking she might disappear completely. It was very unlike the Jane he had come to know, the one who had parried words with arrogant noblemen and discerning chaperones alike. Hell, she had taken him on as a challenge and won. But leaving the safe embrace of Mulgrave Hall was different.
He knew enough about her to guess that she feared what they might discover about her past at the ball. He wanted to tell her it didn’t matter, but he understood that it did to her. Jane needed her autonomy more than his arguments or concern, and so he kept his protests regarding their attendance to himself.
Besides, she was likely right: whoever had been pursuing her through the woods would hardly be expected at the Earl of Banfield’s ball.
And so, he forced himself to don a mask of light indifference, as though her past were inconsequential to him. In fact, it could not matter less to him, not after seeing how it might serve to hurt her. He would happily never learn the truth, if it meant protecting her. But if that was what she needed in order to move forward, with or without him, then he would ensure she got it. Despite her nerves and his misgivings, she would be safe. He would make sure of it.
“How is it we have a whole carriage to ourselves?” Jane asked far too brightly, seeking a distraction.
“I suspect we have Isobel to thank,” he replied, intentionally not matching her energy.
She looked over at him, a defensive expression on her face. “Are you going to tell me again that my plan is a foolish one?” she asked. He wondered if she wanted him to be the villain once more. If Jane wished to use him as an excuse to avoid the ball altogether, he thought perhaps it was his duty to offer her a way out.
He quirked a brow. “Are you going to be moved by my arguments if I do?”
She pretended to consider it before shaking her head. “No, my mind is quite set.”
Jasper had tried. He leaned back, extending his legs toward her. “Then I see no reason to waste what precious time we have alone together.”
“What wouldn’t be a waste of time, my lord?” she asked in mock innocence, leaning toward him. Even apprehensive as she was about what was to come, it would seem that Jane could not resist an opportunity to tease. How he wanted to kiss that impertinent mouth, taste the sweetness of her that had been haunting him since their stolen moments, have her come apart in his arms over and over again until all she remembered was the pleasure he gave her.
Jasper was rapidly losing his composure. The chill outside their carriage did nothing to quell the heat within it. He wanted to pull her into his lap and kiss the fear from her bones. He wanted to tell her nothing could harm her. He wanted to make her feel safe, truly safe, for the first time since he’d found her bleeding in the road.
But he didn’t have that power, and in the end, they arrived at Lord Banfield’s estate far too soon. For the first time since agreeing to go, Jasper wondered if he was making a mistake. He had been thinking only of Jane, and he had forgotten that this would be his first social event in more than a year. Knowing the aristocracy as he did, he was sure they’d cause a stir. The Earl of Belhaven, out of his seclusion and with a mysterious woman on his arm. It had all the makings of a scandal. Surprisingly, he did not care.
Jane reached for his hand unconsciously as she gazed out the carriage window and the estate came into view.
He rubbed his thumb along her palm. “If you wish to turn back…” he murmured, letting the choice be hers.
“No,” she said, mustering her confidence. She looked back at him, her smile weak.
An idea came to him. “Shall we establish a code word?”
She tilted her head. “A code word?”
“Something to say if we need to make a quick escape.” If someone were to insult her or make her feel unsafe, no amount of decorum would prevent him from defending her to his fullest ability. He hoped it wouldn’t come to that. But they were crossing enemy lines, in a way. Back at Mulgrave Hall, Jane was a secret Jasper could protect. At the Banfield estate, she would be exposed, and all the more so for being on his arm. He wondered if he was being selfish, wanting her there rather than in the safer, more anonymous embrace of his sisters.
She pulled him from his worried thoughts with a suggestion. “Pemberley?”
For a moment, he couldn’t recall what they had been talking about. “Pemberley?”
She squeezed his hand. “For our code word, or is that too esoteric?”
Pemberley. Darcy. She was referring to bloody Jane Austen once more. This woman was, as he had long since accepted, going to be the death of him. He smiled. “No, I think it’s just esoteric enough for something only we should understand.”
“And I think we should use it more broadly.”
The carriage was slowing down. “How do you mean?”
She removed her hand from his and let it fall into her lap. “We should use it in the event that a quick escape is necessary, to be sure. But we should also use it if I recognize something from my past, or remember something important. What if we’re in the middle of a tiresome conversation with a viscount and I suddenly remember who I am?”
Jasper wasn’t convinced it would be that easy, but there was no harm agreeing with her. “One quick ‘Pemberley’ and we shall make our excuses to the poor viscount.”
A footman opened the carriage door. Light flooded in as Jasper disembarked first in order to help Jane out.
“A code word and a secret mission?” she whispered in his ear as he helped her down to the ground. “Why, what’s a little light espionage between friends?” she added with a wink.
He tried not to let the word friends crush him. He would be her friend, if that was what she needed. But by God, Jasper wanted so much more with Jane.
“Ready?” he asked, hoping she didn’t notice his voice crack.
She looked up at the imposing Banfield estate. He almost expected her to cower from it. But this was Jane without-a-surname. She had faced much worse than a nobleman’s estate. Her spine straightened. She adopted a mask of her own, one of quietly assured confidence. He suspected only he would be able to see through it.
“Ready,” she confirmed, taking his proffered arm.
They ascended the steps, and Jasper’s heart began to race. The last time he had walked through these doors was with his parents. Today he was alone. Sensing his discomfort, Jane squeezed his arm, reminding him that he was wrong. With Jane at his side, he was the furthest thing from alone.
“Will we have to be announced?” Jane whispered as they joined a long line of people. So far, no one paid them any mind. That relative peace would not last, he was sure.
“Not typically,” he replied. “I imagine it will be Lord and Lady Banfield greeting guests. Their daughters will likely be milling about within.”
They paused at the threshold of the ballroom, waiting for the line before them to clear. Jane gasped quietly at the grandeur that lay mere steps away.
“It’s magnificent,” she breathed, taking in the golden glow of numerous crystal chandeliers reflected off the gilded walls. Lady Banfield, known for her love of tropical plants, had the ballroom lined with lush, towering palms surrounded by bouquets of jewel-toned flowers. It was decadent, to be sure, but Jasper thought it wasn’t fair that Jane had never seen Mulgrave Hall live up to its full potential. Why, he wasn’t even sure if she had seen their ballroom, and if she had she certainly hadn’t seen it the way his mother had intended a guest to enjoy it.
“Just wait until—” he began, but Jane was distracted.
“I wish Lady Viola was here to see this,” she said under her breath.
“Viola has seen plenty of decorated ballrooms.”
“Not for the decor,” she whispered. “But the people. Look at them, Jasper! Dressed in all their finery, their inhibitions as disguised as their faces, the champagne flowing freely.” She paused in breathless wonder. “It is a ripe night for research into human behavior.”
“Research?” he asked, lightly perplexed.
“Oh, never you mind,” she said, patting his arm. “It’s between Lady Viola and I.”
Jasper could hardly quantify how much it meant to him that his sister had brought Jane into her confidence, and that Jane seemed to have taken to her with equal warmth. They were kindred spirits, each with a hunger to know things, each seeking knowledge as a means of controlling the uncontrollable. It had been too easy for him to forget that out of all of his remaining siblings, Jasper was the one who had had his parents the longest. Loss was not a competition, but Viola was a child who had lost her mother and father. If it had been hardest on any one of them, he suspected Viola suffered the most, and was perhaps the most overlooked. He thought Viola could learn from Jane, a woman for whom loss was foundational. Perhaps they all could.
But it was not Jane’s job to fix the Maycotts. Only they could do that.
All at once, they were at the front of the line. Lord and Lady Banfield awaited them wearing looks of joyful anticipation behind their masks. Jasper resisted the urge to transform into the terse man he had been for a year. His parents had loved the earl and countess, had treated them like family. Their smiles were genuine, their welcome effusive.
Still, he wished to make the introduction quick. “Lord and Lady Banfield, may I introduce Miss Jane Danvers of Buckinghamshire, a dear friend of Helena’s from—”
“Cheltenham, yes,” Lady Banfield finished for him, her keen eyes evaluating Jane. She was a handsome woman a slight bit younger than his mother would have been. “Miss Danvers has already caused quite a stir,” she added with a knowing smile.
Jane reddened and curtsied before the countess and her husband. “My lord, my lady, I thank you for the honor of your invitation.”
“It was our pleasure. We were in need of some new blood around here,” Lord Banfield said. He was quite a bit older than Jasper’s father had been, and Lady Banfield was his second wife. He often spoke of how he had intended never to marry again, but fate and the future countess had had different plans. Jasper thought him lucky indeed to have had a second chance at love. Banfield’s eyes were sharp upon him. “And to have Belhaven and his siblings in attendance is a special treat indeed.”
“Indeed,” Jasper replied evenly, not wishing to delve further into the subject.
Mercifully, the line wished to keep moving, and Jasper and Jane were swept to the grand marble staircase and into the ballroom.
“That wasn’t so bad,” Jane mused as they descended.
“They were our easiest test,” replied Jasper, unable to keep the cynicism from his voice. But neither he nor Jane could let their guards down.
The room itself was abuzz with more activity than a country ball held out of the Season would usually warrant. It seemed that all of London was in attendance, and even with everyone masked, Jasper felt hundreds of eyes upon them.
“Just breathe,” he whispered to Jane, who had stiffened like a corpse when they reached the bottom of the stairs as the orchestra’s music swelled around them and they entered the wider room. “You must play at confidence. The key is to fool everyone, but most especially yourself.”
Her posture softened. “I’m accustomed to that, at least.”
It wasn’t long before Isobel and August found them.
“I wasn’t expecting half of bloody Mayfair to be in attendance,” she said under her breath. She handed something to Jane. “Your dance card,” she offered, looking to Jasper at once. “Before you start, it would be terribly ill-mannered for Jane to refuse every man who might ask her. Some might say it would make her stand out all the more.” Her eyes narrowed on her brother, anticipating his disapproval. When he said nothing, she continued. “Fetch us some champagnes, will you?”
Jasper looked to Jane, who nodded. He supposed Isobel was as good a protector as he could have hoped for. If anyone attempted to insult Jane, they would find themselves on the receiving end of Isobel’s cutting wit. More than a few of Jasper’s friends had yet to recover from such an encounter.
“I will assist you,” offered August.
“Fine,” he replied. “Isobel—”
“Behave, I know,” she intoned. “It’s as if you expect me to hike up my skirts and dance a jig on a table whilst smoking a cigar. Think better of me, will you?”
“First you must give me a reason to,” he replied before departing with August, heading to the north side of the ballroom.
…
“Slow down,” begged August. “Some of us are still recovering from the pond.”
Jasper grinned, picturing his brother on skates. “Not as steady on your feet as you used to be?”
August only glared. When they made it to the refreshments without anyone stopping them, Jasper was relieved but confused. Had he made pariahs of the Maycotts in their seclusion? He looked about the room, noting that they did not want for curious gazes. Perhaps no one quite knew how to navigate the vast ocean of grief he and his siblings had learned to tread through.
August downed an entire flute of champagne and wiped his mouth on his glove. “How is she?”
Jasper paused, not meeting his brother’s eye. “We’ve been here all of ten minutes.”
“And no disaster yet. Must be a good sign,” said August. “I half expected an aged viscount to materialize the moment you entered the ballroom, eager to take possession of his wayward daughter.”
“I hardly think Jane’s background is as salacious as that.”
“A mercurial baron?” he suggested. When Jasper merely frowned, he stepped closer. “Do you not think her noble any longer?”
Jasper looked around the table, but none were close enough to hear them. “Seems difficult to imagine that we wouldn’t have heard of a baron’s missing daughter, no?”
“Ah, but you forget that a woman’s reputation matters more than her safety, Brother. If Jane’s family wishes to protect her virtue, they might not advertise that she is missing.”
“And so, what, they’re simply hoping she turns up on her own? She could be in danger or languishing in an infirmary for all they know.”
August shrugged. “I imagine they’d have a couple of discreet detectives on the case, but would otherwise be pretending Jane was visiting an aunt in Bath or a distant cousin in the Highlands. You said she had a ring, didn’t you? Perhaps they are attempting to salvage a precariously balanced engagement.”
Jasper’s vision darkened at the thought. He looked back toward where they had left Jane and Isobel, his gaze finding her directly. The Banfield ballroom was not lacking in beautiful women, but none could hold a candle to his Jane.
His .
There she stood, nodding along to whatever Lady Lydia Coventry was emphatically explaining to her, looking not out of place but rather like she belonged there.
It was then that he realized that Jane belonged everywhere. She belonged in the middle of a roaring tempest. In a sun-warmed corner of the library. At the head of a table, commanding attention. Alone in the wilderness, forging her own path. With him in Mulgrave Hall, should she wish it. She belonged wherever she went, because she was Jane . Grief had not shrunk her heart; loss had not shaped her into something unrecognizable. Jasper was certain that the woman she had been—before her memories were taken from her—was the same woman he knew now. Her spirit was indelible, and it mattered little to him that he did not know her real name or who her father might have been.
He admired Jane for her convictions, and so the relief he felt when he became achingly aware of his own should not surprise him. Jasper was a man who had spent a year shrouding himself in ignorance, afraid to know the depths of his own pain. His sorrow. He had numbed himself to the possibilities that lay ahead of him, but Jane had forced him to know himself. There was a strength in that awareness, a defense that even uncertainty could not shatter. Jasper did not know what would happen next; all he knew was this: he belonged to her.
They were not two planets on converging paths, as he had thought before.
No, Jane was the sun, and Jasper was caught in her orbit, and if he could, he would gladly stay there forever.