A Lady Would Know Better

Chapter Twenty-Two

Jasper

August followed Jasper’s gaze all the way to where Jane stood across the ballroom, her smile shining as bright as a beacon.

“You love her, don’t you?” August asked without preamble.

The question should have terrified him. Fear had been his constant companion of late. But loving Jane didn’t frighten him; only the thought of losing her did.

“We should get back to them,” was all he said. August seemed to hear the answer in his evasion.

“I suppose we should.” His brother’s gaze was knowing. Shrewd, even. “But I worry for you, Brother. The fates have not been kind to our family as of late.”

Jasper grasped two flutes of champagne and let out a small, mirthless laugh. “Now August, you strike me as a man who believes in making his own destiny.”

August’s expression darkened. “Much about me has changed.”

If his tone had not managed to dissuade Jasper from further prying, his abrupt departure would have. August was halfway across the ballroom before Jasper caught up to him. There were a great many things he wanted to ask his brother, but he decided that the Earl of Banfield’s ballroom was not the place to do so. When they approached the ladies, it was clear Lady Lydia was in the middle of speaking.

“—which is why we must campaign for more support, push for more aggressive private member’s bills…” She abruptly stopped when she realized the women were no longer alone.

“My lady, do not cease pontificating on our account,” said August with something of a smirk on his face as he handed a flute to Isobel.

Lady Lydia, a pretty, if severe woman they had grown up with, grimaced and turned toward him. “August Maycott,” she said acidly. “I’m surprised to see you so very far from Covent Garden. Have you run through all of London’s eligible ladies? Do not despair,” she added with mock concern. “I’m certain there’s a lady or two present whose reputation has yet to be tarnished by association with the likes of you.”

Isobel choked on her champagne, while Jane froze, mesmerized by the exchange, her flute held awkwardly midair. Jasper rather thought his brother deserved it.

August chewed his bottom lip, the expression dripping with contempt. “My tastes run a tad bit more cosmopolitan these days, Lydia .”

“I’m sure they do,” she replied scathingly before turning back to Isobel. “I must be off. Think about what I said?”

“Of course,” Isobel replied, delighting in the repartee between Lydia and August.

Lydia turned to Jane. “It was lovely to meet you, Miss Danvers. I do hope your overall impression of the gentlemen of Surrey is not sullied by the likes of Mr. August Maycott.”

The air positively crackled. Whatever there was between Lydia and August was more than mere dislike, which led Jasper to believe that she was yet another victim of his brother’s coldheartedness.

“I shall wait before I make any official judgment,” Jane offered diplomatically. Lydia smiled at them, glared at August, and was off.

“Something you wish to confess?” Jasper asked.

“Nothing you need concern yourself with,” August replied through gritted teeth.

“If you’re striking up dalliances this close to home—”

“I need a drink,” August replied, his glass nowhere near empty, before turning on his heel and leaving as Edgar arrived.

“I just saw Lady Lydia Coventry storming off. I assume that’s related?” he asked, pointing over his shoulder to August’s retreating form.

Isobel laughed. “Perceptive of you.”

Jasper looked between Isobel and Edgar, feeling like he was missing a piece of vital information. “Is there something I need to know about? A reputation in need of saving, perhaps?”

“Nothing as dramatic as that,” began Isobel. “I suspect August has met his match, even if he doesn’t know it quite yet.”

Deciding he had more important things to worry about at the present, Jasper dropped the subject.

“Where is Lady Louisa?” Isobel asked Edgar. “Hiding from her suitors already? Does she have a particularly good spot? I’d love to join her.”

Edgar gave her a sad smile. “Lady Adelaide has made me her messenger, I’m afraid. She requests your presence at her table. There are some gentlemen she wishes you to meet.”

“She’s matchmaking this early in the night?” Isobel blanched. She turned to Jasper. “Permission to flee before I am subjected to such horrors?”

Jasper swallowed a laugh. “You don’t need my permission, Izzie. But do consider if the consequences will be worth it. At least if you go to her now, you give the appearance of compliance.”

“Perhaps you’re right,” she offered grimly before departing, looking as though she were walking to her own execution.

“I don’t envy the gentlemen your aunt will offer her up to,” said Edgar, watching her go. He turned back to Jasper and Jane. “Miss Danvers, will you favor me with the next dance?”

Jane looked startled, as though she hadn’t considered it a possibility. She seemed at a loss for words, until Jasper nudged her.

“Pemberley?” he whispered.

She smiled and shook her head, turning back to Edgar. “With pleasure, my lord. Though I must warn you, it has been some time since I last danced.”

“I pity the gentlemen of Buckinghamshire,” he said with a smile. “I’m an excellent partner, I assure you.” The orchestra started up again, a quadrille this time, and Edgar offered his hand. They left, Jane shooting a tentative smile over her shoulder, and Jasper melted away, leaning against a wall where he could watch to make sure she was all right.

He would have gladly spent the whole night dedicated to that task, but Lord and Lady Banfield’s other guests had different plans. The distance they had maintained from him earlier in the night vanished now that he stood alone at the edge of the ballroom. At first, only the boldest mothers approached him, daughters in tow, seeking an introduction. He was only as polite as he needed to be, and when he did not proceed to ask any of them to dance, they largely left in a huff. He preferred them to their nosy husbands, who were not so easily rebuffed by his stern mask, asking after his tenants, his investments, his bloody horses, all inane subjects they wielded as weapons to pierce his defenses. It wasn’t long before they began asking after Jane, circling around the mere idea of her like predators.

Miss Jane Danvers, Helena’s friend from Cheltenham.

Jasper trotted out the same lie they had been telling everyone, but Jane’s common status did not seem to deter the men. Only her status as a soon-to-be-married woman was enough to remove her as a prospect.

She’s all but betrothed.

If there was anything a so-called gentleman understood, it was the matter of another man’s property. Jasper bit his tongue to prevent himself from rebuking them fiercely. He wasn’t going to change anyone’s mind on the matter of a woman’s autonomy. Not in a ballroom, at least. Instead, he did his best to communicate without words that he wished to be left alone. He was being terribly rude, but he thought the Maycotts should continue to be afforded a modicum of grace in that regard, at least for a little while longer.

Mercifully, no one mentioned his parents or Anthony. Everyone in attendance seemed to have been warned against such somber conversation. He suspected Lady Banfield had gotten the word out to a few of the likeliest offenders, who then spread it like wildfire. He still saw it in their lingering glances, their masks doing nothing to hide their pity. He thought he recognized several of them, people from his old life, people who didn’t know the version of him that had loved Annabelle, let alone this version of him that loved Jane. The Jasper they knew was a stranger to him now. Perhaps they sensed that, and that was why, after some valiant but ultimately unsuccessful attempts, they kept their distance from him.

Meanwhile, his friends each took their turns dancing with Jane and Lady Louisa and Helena. Lucian was an adept partner, George less so, but they were all of them enjoying themselves. It did not distress Jasper to be left out. He had a task to perform, a duty to Jane that he must see through. He scanned the crowd for people who might recognize her, but so far he only watched as others became intrigued by her, taking note of those who were drawn to her, as he had been. How could he blame them? There was an unconsciousness to Jane’s actions. She moved without hesitation, laughed freely, burned brightly. Jasper thought it was likely evidence that she had not been raised to make a debut in Society. Aristocratic ladies, through no fault of their own, had been molded from birth to be a gentleman’s perfect bride. Pure, chaste, refined, and modest. It didn’t leave much room for anything resembling Jane’s gaiety, and he thought that if her instinct was to be so very different, it must mean something. As the night progressed and no one recognized her, he thought that was evidence of something, too.

Eventually, Helena found her way to his side, flushed from dancing with Clarence, who, as an actor, was known for his theatrics.

“Feeling dizzy?” he asked, recalling that Clarence had practically tipped her upside down in a swooping dip that nearly took out the aged Viscount Lumley. “Are you in pain, Helena?”

She ignored the question. “Your failure to ask any young ladies to dance has been noticed and remarked upon.” She nudged him slightly with her shoulder. “You’re lucky Lady Banfield adores you so, or she would have done something about it by now. It is her good word alone that keeps you from utter social ruin.”

Jasper didn’t look away from where Jane was dancing a lively polka with the Duke of Hereford. “I’m not here to dance.”

“Surely not,” she scoffed. “It’s almost as if this were a ball .”

He glared at her. “I’m here for Jane.”

Helena held his gaze and then looked out to where Jane and the duke were putting on a rather spirited display. “It doesn’t bother you to see Miss Danvers so occupied? I don’t think I’ve seen her sit out a single dance.”

He rolled his shoulders. “Why would that bother me?”

“Please, Brother. Do not be obtuse, at least not among family.”

He paused, watching Jane lose herself in the dance. She looked so unburdened. Joyful. It was a delight to see her that way. “I suppose if anything, it brings me comfort.”

“Comfort?”

He looked to his sister. “It’s proof that Jane can be happy, even without her memories.”

Helena was silent for a moment. “Proof she could be happy with you?”

“With or without me,” he replied, and he meant it. “I have no claim on her future. I am merely relieved to see her so…”

“Unburdened?”

“Unburdened, yes.” Jasper bristled at his sister’s perceptive silence and sought a new topic to distract her from the truth. “Has Aunt Adelaide chained Isobel to the nearest gentleman in hopes of a betrothal?”

Helena grinned. “Last I checked, Isobel had managed to find her way into the card room, unbeknownst to our dear chaperone. Clarence told me she is currently fleecing Lord Trevayne in a game of écarté. August is brooding somewhere, but I’ve got Edgar keeping him out of trouble at least.”

Jasper nodded, satisfied that the Maycotts had avoided disaster as of yet. “And you? Your dance card isn’t full?”

She glanced down at the empty spaces and sighed. “Widowhood has its privileges, I suppose.”

Before Jasper could say anything, Jane, Lady Louisa, Clarence, and Lucian descended upon them in a rush.

“I’ve worn right through my slippers,” said Lady Louisa, rather breathlessly. “Join me in the retiring room, Helena?”

Helena gave Jasper a rather meaningful look as the ladies left. All at once, Clarence and Lucian began a lively discussion about Clarence’s rivalry with fellow actor Henry Irving.

“I heard the Lyceum is reopening under his management,” said Lucian.

“Yes, well, perhaps I should not have been so hasty in my shunning of the man.” Thinking better of it, he continued. “He’s a second-rate actor at best, but a cunning businessman, I’ll give him that. Did you know he weaseled his way into Bram Stoker’s confidence? The snake. Befriending a critic! The utter shamelessness of it!”

“Pemberley,” Jane whispered in Jasper’s ear when no one was looking.

“What is it?” he asked, barely controlling himself. Had she remembered something? Spotted someone?

She gave him a slow smile, her hand squeezing his discreetly as she pulled him back from his panic. “I simply need a moment’s respite.” She took a champagne from a passing tray. “Shall we take a turn about the room?”

He offered her his arm, noting the eyes that narrowed upon them when she took it. Let them look. The stares would be worth it if this venture ended up being what she needed to do in order to finally understand her place in the world. Jasper wanted to give her the belonging she sought. The peace she deserved. He wanted her to feel safe, to know she could have a new life, if she wanted. A home of her own, at Mulgrave Hall or otherwise. He’d build one for her with his bare hands should she desire it, as close to or as far from him as she wished.

But beneath his noble desires to see Jane safe and well situated lay Jasper’s most vulnerable truth: he wanted to be her home, and he suspected she wanted the same.

But he could not force her into that realization. Jane had to come to it on her own. Had to want it as badly as he did. Time was on their side. He would wait for her forever, if necessary.

They walked in silence, both of them all too aware of the eyes that followed them around the room. Seeking a distraction, Jasper leaned in toward Jane’s ear.

“How goes your secret mission?” he whispered.

Her face fell. “I rather forgot what I was here for. I’ve been so caught up in dancing and such that it hasn’t occurred to me to look for people I might remember. Though I suppose anyone would make themselves known to me if they recognized me.” She paused, perhaps realizing the fruitlessness of her mission. “Or that is what I hope for, at least. Obviously, I am still a mystery. Perhaps I always will be.”

It cleaved Jasper’s heart in two to see her so crestfallen. “Jane, it doesn’t mean—”

“But it does, doesn’t it? The great mystery of my life will go unsolved. I will never know where I came from, where I belong. I suppose I’ve known it all along, but denied the truth to myself.” Her brow furrowed. “You suspected me from the start. In a way, you’ve been the most truthful, the most realistic. You should be commended for indulging me tonight.”

Jasper shook his head, unwilling to allow Jane to abandon her pursuit of the truth entirely. “You’ve made improvements since waking, Jane. You must have patience. There is no hurry.”

“I know that. You and your family have been uncommonly kind to a woman who cannot ever hope to repay it.”

They passed a long row of palms, stares, and the whispers still following in their wake. If it had been summer, Jasper could have taken her out to the gardens for privacy, scandal be damned. They unconsciously paused before a window, watching as moonlight sparkled on the layer of snow that blanketed the balcony.

“My mother used to say that kindness is not a currency, nor is it scarce. You have not overburdened us, Jane. I rather hope it is in our nature to help others. Or, failing that, you have served as a welcome reminder of what we should strive for.”

She smiled at that. “I do so wish I…” But she swallowed what she desired to say, choosing silence instead.

“What?” he asked, desperate to know.

She waved her hand. “It’s silly, given everything your family has been through, but I wish I had gotten a chance to meet your parents and your brother.” She watched him, waiting for a reaction. When he said nothing, she continued. “In a way, knowing them would have meant knowing you better.”

Jasper hadn’t believed he’d have something in his life that he wished to share with his mother and father and Anthony again. In fact, after he’d lost them, all effort had been made to not feel anything, lest he be reminded of their absence. But now he wished for them to know Jane, and for Jane to know them. There was an ache when he thought of how his mother would have loved her heart, and his father her sharp wit. Anthony would have relished her unique ability to put Jasper in his place. They would have also loved her for the same reason they had loved Annabelle—she pushed Jasper to become a man worthy of her.

He swallowed thickly. “I would have been a different person if they had survived.”

If illness had not touched Wrayford, he would have married Annabelle, and he would’ve never known Jane. His mind could not reconcile it because it was impossible to desire something that had torn his life apart so ruthlessly, so viciously. The Jasper of before would never have chosen it, even knowing what he did now, knowing Jane as he did now. Of course, he’d choose to have his family still, to have Annabelle still, if the fates had offered it. But he could not regret the broken path that had brought him and Jane together. The alternative—a life spent alone, a husk of his former self, eager to push everyone he loved away before he lost them—was too grim to consider.

She saw the conflict in him, read it as clearly as one did words on a page.

“Much like kindness, I rather think love is not scarce, Jasper.” Was that an admission? Or was Jane being philosophical once more, like she had been in the portrait gallery when she had done her damnedest to convince him that true love was real?

He knew that now. Much could change over the course of a few days.

“No, it is not,” he said, less a concession and more a hopeful prompt.

But she began to walk again, and he followed, as he always would.

Jane leaned her head toward his. “I have a new mission for us,” she whispered.

Jasper’s heart thumped in his chest. “Oh?” Did she feel his pulse racing beneath her hand? How he tensed at her words?

She didn’t look his way, instead keeping her gaze outward. “I wish to dance.”

“I’m not sure a person could dance more than you have,” he offered.

“No, Jasper. I wish to dance with you.”

He almost stopped walking. It was one thing to promenade through the room, arm in arm, inviting gossip and whispers. Jasper could manage that. But dancing? The very idea of it would court scandal. He couldn’t imagine Aunt Adelaide approving, and they’d have more than mere whispers to be concerned about. He almost refused her, but then a depressing thought came to him: What if this is my only chance to dance with Jane? He could not say why, but this night felt like it was perched on a precipice. It was a night that made him feel as though everything could change, and perhaps not for the better. If he had a chance to tell Jane and the whole world—without words—that he loved her, and he squandered it for fear of what other people thought? His parents would be ashamed of him.

“Miss Danvers,” he started, but the name felt wrong on his tongue. “Jane,” he corrected, his head tilted, his voice low. “My dear Jane,” he whispered, letting his breath tickle her cheek. “Would you honor me with a dance?”

“Why yes, my lord,” she said, adopting a falsely formal tone that sent heat through the core of him. The woman could bend him to her will with naught but a few words and that beguiling smile. “The honor is all mine,” she added, bowing her head prettily. “Shall we?”

They took their positions, the floor far too busy with couples for anyone to pay them much mind at first. It wasn’t the dancers that worried Jasper, but rather his discerning aunt and others of her kind. He had spent the night declining unspoken requests that he dance with any number of eligible ladies, and due to his grief, the latitude he had been given in that regard likely vanished as soon as he took his position across from Jane. Even her false identity wouldn’t shield her from scrutiny, because what was an earl doing dancing with a commoner? It wasn’t as if the Maycotts were claiming Jane was an heiress, which could explain the pairing. From the outside looking in, it seemed the Earl of Belhaven was utterly smitten with a mysterious and penniless woman, which made them the talk of the ball. Before he’d lost his parents and Anthony, Mr. Jasper Maycott likely could have married a commoner without causing much of a stir. But he was the earl now, and like it or not, his association with Jane was scandalous.

The orchestra began a familiar waltz, the introductory notes soft and soothing as Jasper and Jane bowed before each other, and ascended into something forceful and bright when they came together.

Jane smiled up at him. “‘ Geschichten aus dem Wienerwald ,’” she said, surprising herself. “‘Tales from the Vienna Woods,’” she added, almost unconsciously.

Jasper smiled. “It would seem Strauss is as foundational to you as our friend Jane Austen.”

She shook her head as they began to turn about the room. “I couldn’t identify Schubert before, much to Lady Adelaide’s dismay, yet here I am recalling Strauss in the original German.”

Jasper tilted his head closer to hers. “Perhaps your mind has improved since.”

“Perhaps,” she echoed softly, her hand growing tighter on his shoulder.

He spun her outward and she returned gracefully.

“You don’t seem to have much trouble with the steps, either.” There was a charming confidence to her movements. Jasper had thought he would be leading her, but Jane was more than capable.

“That comes as less of a surprise, given that I spent nearly an hour proving myself an adept dancer with your aunt.” Her expression was caught somewhere between a grimace and a smile at the memory. “It was a point of pride of mine that while I was hopelessly bad with a needle or at playing the pianoforte, I could hold my own in a waltz.”

“Which of you led?”

Jane looked up, her grin sardonic. “Who do you think?”

When the solo violin began and the tempo changed, they had to focus on the steps lest they lose their footing. He hoped dancing was the distraction Jane needed. His mind was a flurry of thoughts, but he forced himself to appreciate having Jane in his arms. He had held her before, but this felt different. Perhaps it was that they were on display, and that even with their faces masked, he felt exposed. Perhaps it was the way he felt the warmth of her through their gloves, emanating like the glow of an ember. It was the undeniable luminosity of Jane—his sun.

It was all of that and more. It was the first time he’d held Jane without denying himself the truth of what he felt for her. She would know the extent of his feelings one day, he swore. But he would not crowd her mind with it yet. It was enough to simply hold her, studying the lock of hair that curled at the nape of her neck, wishing he could press his lips to the warmth of her skin as they turned together, carving their own arc across the ballroom.

Jane tucked her head as close to his as she could without collapsing into him. Something was wrong.

“What is it?”

“I fear I’ll never know who I am, Jasper.”

The ballroom seemed to fade around him, until all Jasper was aware of was Jane—her hand in his, the curve of her waist, the depths of her fears, the desperation he felt to make her feel safe. Be safe.

“I do not care who you were or what you may have done before, Jane. I care about who you are now—the person who brought light and life back into Mulgrave Hall. The person who reminded me what it is to live in this world.” He cradled her cheek for the briefest moment, unable to keep from touching her even in the middle of the ballroom. She followed the ghost of a touch, tilting her head as if to find it again. “I know exactly who you are, Jane. I have known it since we first spoke, but I know that isn’t enough for you. If you wish to enlist a detective in order to find the people from your past, I will help you. If you’d like me to publish a letter in The Times seeking information, I’ll start composing one tonight. Christ, I’ll plaster your face on every signpost in London, if it will bring you peace. But your past does not matter to me, Jane.”

She did stop dancing then. They were still as statues in the middle of the room, the waltzing couples continuing around them. Time froze, trickled by them like the slow melt of early spring. Jane was breathing heavily; the gaze behind her mask was direct.

“Do you mean that?”

He took her hands. “You must know that I do.”

“Why? Why would you do all of that?”

The words were there. They had come easily. Without thought or effort.

Because I love you.

But his wretched guilt reminded him that he should not shackle her to a future that wasn’t meant to be, or tell her the truth of his heart before she was ready to hear it.

He took the coward’s route for what he hoped would be the last time. “Because it is the right thing to do.”

Did her shoulder slump? Had she been wishing for more? They unconsciously came together and began dancing once more.

“Thank you,” she said, her voice small. “It helps to know I can count on your friendship.”

There was hurt layered in her voice, and Jasper realized he could not wait for the perfect time to tell her how he felt. He couldn’t be sure that what he was doing was right; he could only be true to himself and honest with her. Whatever happened would happen, but at least the unspoken words would not choke him. At least he would know he had said and done all he could.

He loved her. Not for her past, not for her future, but for who she was now.

Stay , he thought, or did he shout it? Stay and make a new life at Mulgrave Hall with me. Stay and be my wife.

“Jane,” he whispered; the ache of her name was sweet to him. “My Jane…”

She looked up at him with tears welling in her eyes and all at once, doubt left him. There was his future. The woman he loved. He knew it in his bones. They were meant for each other. He simply had to say the words. They were on the tip of his tongue, the confirmation that had blossomed in his heart. He knew she felt it, too. Nothing had ever felt so certain to him.

“Don’t cry,” he began as he twirled her away from him. The arm that held her was a steady anchor, ready to pull her back in so he could whisper that truth to her.

I love you, my dear Jane.

But before he could speak, a figure froze in his periphery, too still to be ignored.

Reluctantly, Jasper tore his eyes away from Jane to see a man staring at them both, looking like he had seen a ghost.

“Hetty?” he choked as the dance brought Jane back to Jasper.

Time had passed slowly before, but now it came upon them in a rush, disorienting them, tearing them from the path they had been carving mere moments before. The noise of the ballroom was all at once unbearable as the man took a step closer.

“Hetty, is it really you?”

And Jasper realized everything changed when Jane went rigid in his arms, her heartbeat hammering against his chest. Their eyes met, and there was something unfamiliar there, something that told Jasper a new, unsettling truth.

He might still be hers, but she wasn’t his any longer.