Chapter Thirty-Three
Katie was aggrieved, but not surprised, when not long after Jasper’s visit to the dig she received another invitation from Lady Grimsby. This one for a picnic that would also double as a going-away party for her grandson.
That was certainly something Katie could celebrate.
The invitation had been hand-delivered after dinner, so naturally Gerrit was there when she opened it.
“Do I need to attend?” he asked, radiating preemptive displeasure at the prospect.
“No, I shouldn’t think so,” she said. Just thinking about Gerrit in the same vicinity as Jasper made her stomach roil. “But I shall have to make an appearance, although I shan’t stay long,” she added.
Gerrit had nodded with obvious reluctance and frowned with equally obvious displeasure.
Katie hadn’t been pleased about it, either.
Now, as Becky dressed and primped her for the wretched event, Katie wished she’d done the socially unthinkable thing and declined a second invitation from the countess.
“Are you sure about this?” Becky asked as she set Katie’s sage-green hat on her head and stood back to examine the placement.
“What possible excuse could I give for not going at this point?” Katie asked, pulling on her sage-green kid gloves.
“Besides, this is his going away party and that is something I truly am jubilant about.” She had not told Becky about the extortion threat, because…
Well, because she didn’t want the other woman to voice all her own fears.
Jasper was leaving, and soon. All Katie had to do was get through the next few days without doing something dangerous or foolish. Or dangerously foolish.
The carriage ride to Elm Hall felt like a trip in a tumbril to the guillotine, and Katie’s nerves were stretched aggravatingly thin by the time the miserable fifteen-minute journey was at an end.
No, your miserable journey is just beginning, an unhelpful voice pointed out.
Judging by the number of servants and carriages dotting the drive, Katie was among the last to arrive.
“The Duchess of Dulverton!” a tall, gaunt butler bellowed after opening the door to an old-fashioned drawing room in shades of dark green and with plenty of gilt. It felt like stepping into the past—circa 1760s, or thereabouts—and Katie surmised the décor was that of the countess’s youth.
All conversation ceased when Katie appeared.
There were perhaps thirty people milling about on the terrace that overlooked Lady Grimsby’s back garden.
Katie’s shoulders stiffened when she recognized her tormentor’s profile.
Jasper was surrounded by a bevy of local girls, no doubt all charmed by his handsome person and smooth manners.
A slender woman with silvery white hair held court from a dark wood Bath chair. “Good afternoon, duchess,” she called out in a firm, strong voice at odds with her fragile appearance. “I hope you will forgive me for not rising to greet you.”
Wearing a polite smile, Katie opened her mouth, but the countess was not finished.
“I was beginning to think you were a figment of our neighbors’ imagination.”
Katie blushed at the well-deserved chiding. Once again, she opened her mouth, this time to apologize for failing to pay a call.
But again, the countess was not finished. “I understand you are already acquainted with the guest of honor, my grandson Lord Jasper.”
“We are old friends,” Jasper said, smiling broadly as he came toward her. “Aren’t we, Katie?”
The dowager clucked her tongue. “Such a casual attitude young people take today. In my day, one would never greet a married lady so informally.”
“I may call you Katie, mayn’t I?” Jasper said, his caressing tone scraping like needles on her skin. “I hope we will not stand on ceremony now that you are a married lady.”
Before she could contrive an answer, Lady Grimsby resumed the monologue that Jasper had interrupted. “I’m sure you are aware that my poor Judith—Jasper’s wife and my dearest friend Lady Tinsley’s granddaughter—passed away last year.”
“I’m sorry for your loss,” Katie said.
It wasn’t clear if the countess heard her, but Jasper inclined his head. “Thank you,” he said, assuming the sorrowful expression of a bereaved widower.
“What are you saying, Jasper?” the countess bellowed, raising an ear horn to her head.
“Her Grace was offering her condolences,” Jasper said in a raised voice.
The countess waved a dismissive hand. “Yes, yes. Sit here, Your Grace. This is the seat of honor.”
Katie found herself seated right beside the old lady, who preferred to make a long string of declarations rather than engage in conversation. That was just as well as Katie’s brain was addled, so she gratefully settled in to listen.
While the rest of the guests played croquet, rowed on the tiny lake, and mingled with each other, Katie listened to the countess tell her, at exhausting length, about Jasper’s marriage. “The match was arranged when Lord Jasper was just a boy and Judith was still in her cradle.”
Katie knew that Jasper had married to please his grandmother and ensure his inheritance, but Jasper had never confessed that the union had been of such long-standing. The lying, manipulative swine.
According to the countess, Judith had given birth a scant eight months after their marriage. So, Katie had not been the only one Jasper had seduced that summer.
By the time an hour and a half had passed, Katie was ready to scream.
When the garrulous squire’s wife, Lady Staniforth, came to take her leave of the countess, Katie leapt up from her seat. “Yes, I’m afraid I must be going as well, my lady.”
The countess frowned and opened her mouth. Katie knew she was going to come up with an excuse to keep her longer, but then Jasper—of all people—came to her rescue.
“Lady Grimsby and I are grateful for your company today, Your Grace,” he said, insinuating his body between Katie and his gaping grandmother. “Allow me to walk you two ladies to your carriages.”
“My, my! What an honor to have such an escort,” Lady Staniforth burbled, giddy with pleasure.
The two chattered as Katie followed along silently, willing the nightmare afternoon to be over.
Lady Staniforth’s carriage was the only one out front.
“Oh, dear me, Duchess. Where is your carriage?” Lady Staniforth dithered. “Do you need a ride home?”
“No, no. It will be along presently,” Jasper assured her as he handed her into her carriage. “Good day to you, Lady Staniforth.” He firmly shut the door on further conversation and the squire’s ancient coach rumbled off down the drive.
Thankfully, the sound of more wheels came from the drive leading to the stables.
“That will be me,” Katie said, relieved. “Thank you for your escort, Jasper, but you should get back to your party.”
But it was not the Dulverton barouche that came around the corner but some other vehicle. She turned back to Jasper. “Where is my carriage?”
“I sent it home earlier.”
“You did what?”
“I will take you in mine.”
Katie was so angry she could barely speak. “Jasper, what—”
“Hush, now, Katie, darling. You don’t want the servants to stare, do you?” He gestured to where two of the countess’s footmen stood a few feet away.
“I do not want to ride with you—especially not in an enclosed carriage!”
He gave an insufferable chuckle. “You don’t want any servants hearing our conversation, my dear.”
Gritting her teeth, Katie allowed him to help her into the old-fashioned carriage, which she could not help noticing had the Grimsby escutcheon emblazoned on the side, so not Jasper’s carriage, as he had claimed.
“Do not be angry with me, Katie,” Jasper crooned as the carriage moved down the long driveway. “I wanted to talk to you, but it is impossible to get you alone—and god knows I have tried.”
“We have nothing to say to one another.”
He pushed to his feet, as if to cross the space that separated them and sit beside her.
“Stay on your side of the carriage, please.”
His eyebrows shot up at her harsh tone, but he sank back down into worn chocolate-brown velvet. “You are angry.”
Katie gave a disbelieving laugh. “Now, I wonder why that could be? Because you tried to extort money from me?”
His good humor wavered, exposing something darker, only for a second, but she saw it.
“By dismissing my carriage and taking me home—alone—you risk creating a scandal,” she added, not that he cared.
“Why, we are old friends, Katie; even your husband knows of our friendship. Surely nobody could cavil about me joining you on a fifteen-minute carriage ride?”
Katie sighed wearily. “Why won’t you just leave me be? What little feeling there once was between us is long dead. You are only making an embarrassing nuisance of yourself.”
His smile twisted but hung on by a thread, displeasure flashing in his blue eyes. “My, my, what a little shrew you have become. Is it age? Or your newly elevated status?”
“Whatever it is, it is none of your concern,” she retorted. “And you could have spared yourself the rough side of my tongue had you simply left me alone.”
“Oh, Katie darling. When will you stop fighting it?”
“It?”
“The attraction between us. I know you can feel it just as I can. It is not too late, you know. I realize you have just been punishing me for my behavior five years ago. But it would be a crime to throw everything we had away.”
Her jaw dropped. “Did you hit your head?”
“Pardon?”
“Your head. Have you injured it? Even if I were willing to put aside your recent abominable behavior, my recollection of what happened five years ago is a good deal different than yours. I recall you promising me marriage to get beneath my skirts, which I was stupid enough to allow. I also recall you running off to your grandmother when she snapped her fingers. I recall you marrying another woman after telling me we were betrothed. That is what I recall.”