Chapter 23
By ten o’clock the following morning, Jasper Deverell had resolved three things. First, that whisky was an agent of Satan. Second, that sunlight had been invented by a vindictive God. And third, that if Langley and Morleigh had come to murder him, he could only hope they would do it quietly.
When the butler entered the drawing room of his bachelor lodgings, announcing Lord Langley and the Duke of Morleigh, Jasper closed his eyes. “Show them in. But if they ask for pistols, tell them I am not home.”
The butler did not smile. “Very good, sir.”
Theo entered first, and Morleigh followed, dark, immaculate, and so coldly composed that Jasper felt his headache worsen out of respect.
“Gentlemen,” Jasper said, rising with a wince. “You are early. I had not expected my execution until noon.”
Theo did not laugh. Ah. Very well, then.
Jasper cleared his throat. “Before either of you begins, I know. It was reckless. It was stupid. It endangered her reputation, and I ought to have known better.”
“Yes,” Theo said. “You ought.”
“I am sorry for allowing the evening to become something that may have harmed her.”
“For that?” Morleigh’s gaze sharpened. “Not for bringing her to your rooms? Not for smuggling her into a gentlemen’s club in disguise?”
Jasper’s headache beat once, hard, behind his eyes.
“Well. I am not sorry for being her friend, not one wink. What is the harm in it, I ask you? She has only done what any man might do daily: drinking, gambling, loitering about uselessly and pretending to be cleverer than he is. If she had been born male, no one would have blinked.”
“She is not a man,” Morleigh said, each word cold as carved obsidian. “And somehow, Deverell, I suspect you might feel rather differently towards her if she were.”
Jasper’s smile flickered and then sharpened. “Tell me this, then… Would either of you think less of me for befriending someone with wit, spirit, and mettle simply because she had the misfortune to be born a woman? Would you prefer I patted Charlotte on the head and recommended embroidery?”
“You are calling her Charlotte now?” the duke snapped, as though the name itself were an affront. “You presume familiarity where none is permitted.”
Jasper looked at him flatly. “It is her name, Morleigh. Would you prefer I refer to her as Mr Charleston and continue the farce?”
The duke took a step nearer, his voice low and lethal. “You shall address her as Miss Tolliver. You would do well to remember that she is the daughter of a viscount and sister-in-law to both an earl and a duke. She is not some actress to be dressed up and paraded through clubs like a clever pet!”
“She dressed herself,” Jasper replied coolly. “And she came of her own volition. I did not coerce her. I did not pressure. I simply held the door open and allowed her to walk through it.”
“You allowed her into a gentleman’s club in the middle of the night! Do not insult us.”
“I am not insulting anyone,” Jasper snapped, now fully alert and no longer amused. “I am defending her. Because for all your high-minded talk of scandal and honour, what you truly fear is not that she shall be ruined, but that she will be free. That she might act as any man would and enjoy it.”
Morleigh opened his mouth to retort, but Theo cut him off with a lifted hand. “Perhaps it would be best if I spoke with Deverell alone.”
Morleigh did not move at first. Then, with a glance between them—a sharp, silent warning aimed squarely at Jasper—he turned on his heel and stalked off towards the far end of the room, his shoulders bristling like a general denied battle.
Theo remained standing for a moment longer, his gaze fixed upon Jasper. At last, with a sigh that bespoke both tightly-reined fury and resignation, he lowered himself into the chair opposite and gestured for Jasper to do the same.
“I should have thought,” Theo began, his tone deceptively mild, “that you, of all people, would know better.”
Jasper arched a brow, feigning surprise. “Better than to what?”
“Better than to drag my sister-in-law into a gentleman’s club. Better than to disguise her as a man and seat her at a table surrounded by half the gossips in Parliament. Bellamy’s, Deverell. Not Vauxhall or some ridiculous masquerade, but Bellamy’s.”
“She wished to come,” Jasper replied, more defensively than he intended.
Theo’s expression did not alter. He simply watched him.
“She wished to win,” Jasper continued, shifting in his chair. “She claimed she could best me at cards. I accepted the challenge. I gave her the opportunity. And, for what it’s worth, she very nearly succeeded.”
Theo gave a slow, deliberate blink. “And what, precisely, were you both hoping to prove?”
“That she could do it. That she was capable. That she deserved a chance to play, just as any man might.”
“As His Grace so wisely observed,” Theo said, “Miss Tolliver is not any man. And you know that full well.”
“She is not made of porcelain either,” Jasper snapped, then softened, lowering his voice.
“She is clever, and sharp-tongued, and more vividly alive than half the dried-out relics I’ve had the misfortune to drink with in this club.
She did not ask to be coddled. She asked to play.
She wanted a wager, not a wedding. A challenge, not a chaperone. ”
“And instead,” Theo replied, calm but merciless, “she has me. Scrubbing the wreckage of your little adventure from the walls before the scandal sheets catch the scent. Did it ever once occur to you that giving her what she wanted might also give her precisely what she never asked for? Repercussions. Exposure. The rug of reputation being pulled out from under her.”
Jasper exhaled through his nose, wishing he had another glass of something strong.
Theo flagged down a footman with a curt flick of his hand. “Three brandies,” he said. “Two here. And one for His Grace, if he can be persuaded not to commit murder before the first sip.”
The footman bowed and vanished.
Across the room, Morleigh was still watching them, motionless and dark-eyed, like some ancient statue of Justice awaiting the cue to swing its blade.
Theo sighed and leant in closer to Jasper.
“You spoke earlier about how any man might befriend Miss Tolliver. How, if she had been born male, there would be no question or concern. And yet I tell you now, Miss Charlotte Tolliver is my friend, and remains so, regardless of her sex. I have known her since she was all knees and ink-stained fingers, running wild through the orchards and scrawling blasphemies in the margins of her governess’s Bible. ”
A reluctant smile tugged at the corner of Jasper’s mouth, though it faded quickly.
“But a friendship between you and her,” Theo continued, “is not the same. It is not innocent.”
“And why not?” Jasper asked, tone sharper than before. “Because you are her brother-in-law and I am not?”
“Precisely. I am her family,” Theo said. “And you, Deverell, are you.”
“An excellent tautology, Langley. Very poetic. What precisely does it mean?”
“It means,” Theo said calmly, “that I have known you for half my life. I have watched you charm barmaids and marchionesses with equal ease. I have seen you toy with widows, debutantes, and sopranos”—he lowered his voice—“and men... all with that same wicked look in your eyes, like affection is something you can pour into a glass and drink dry by morning. Do not tell me this is something new.”
“This is different,” Jasper said firmly, his voice dropping low.
Theo did not blink, but sat back as the footman arrived with the brandies.
He drank deeply, and said, “If you are so certain of your affections—so convinced that what you feel for her is not passing fancy or idle flirtation—then prove it is different! You had best do the only honourable thing that remains.”
Jasper’s mouth went dry. “And what is that?”
“You ask for her hand,” Theo said simply. “You go to her not with riddles or wagers, but with sincerity. You lay your pride at her feet, and you ask her to be your wife.”
Jasper said nothing, for the very idea of it landed in his chest like a stone in deep water.
Theo watched him closely. And then, his voice softened, not in warning, but in understanding. “What is it? What gives you pause?”
Jasper looked down into his glass for a long moment. “I do not believe Miss Tolliver wants to marry at all. Not me. Not any gentleman. I believe she is terribly tired of being told what to do. I think she wants the world, and the right to walk it unchained. I would not be the man who chains her.”
Theo leant back in his chair, thoughtful.
“She does. God help us, she does. But if there is a gentleman in this city capable of convincing her otherwise, it is likely the one who just escorted her through Bellamy’s disguised as a man and let her lose a fortune in coin and consequence.
If nothing else, you have her attention. ”
Jasper huffed a bitter breath. “Her attention, yes. Her good opinion, I am less certain of.”
Theo gave a dry smile. “If she did not hold you in some regard, I assure you, she would already have buried you in a footnote and gone on to win a duel.”
Jasper ran a hand down his face. “God help me.”
Theo’s tone shifted then: quieter and more absolute. “The choice is simple, Deverell. Ask for her hand, or you will not see her again.”
Jasper’s head snapped up. “You cannot be serious.”
“As you are quite aware, I am an earl,” Theo replied.
“And that man”—he gestured towards Morleigh, who was now standing by the fireplace like the executioner awaiting his cue—“is a duke of the realm. Between the two of us, we can have you posted to a minor consulate in the East Indies within a fortnight. Or worse”—he took a sip of his brandy and said with brutal cheer—“you will be made to dine with my mother every Thursday until your hair turns white.”
“You intend to exile me over a game of cards and a smudged moustache?”
Theo raised one brow. “No. I intend to exile you over what may come after. Because I know you, Jasper Deverell.”
Jasper straightened. “That is not entirely fair.”
“Fair?” Theo echoed, rising to his feet.
“I am not interested in fair, Deverell. I am interested in Miss Tolliver’s welfare.
In her reputation, and her happiness, and whatever semblance of peace remains in my wife’s family.
” He paused. “And if you truly believe Charlotte Tolliver is weary of being told what to do—”
“I do.”
“—then may the Lord grant you fortitude, old friend,” Theo said, grinning in wry amusement.
“For you are about to marry a Tolliver, and the moment she becomes your wife, you shall be the one she defies daily.” He clapped Jasper once, firmly, on the shoulder.
“And Heaven help the man who thinks he can tame her.”