Chapter 4
CHAPTER 4
W ith an awkward honk , the musicians halted the music, and every curious and appraising eye in the ballroom turned Jasper’s way. Unease rippled up the backs of his legs and wrapped disquietingly around his gut.
As the son of a duke, he’d been raised to live in society’s gaze. Naturally, he’d relished the attention and adoration as a young man, but as he’d aged—and particularly now, at four-and-thirty—he felt increasingly disinterested and often smothered.
The butler, belatedly recalling his duty, stammered, “H-his Grace, the Duke of Derby.”
Jasper scanned the throng, his heart leaping alarmingly when he caught sight of Maria. His blood thrummed—Lord knew why—before he shook the feeling off.
Whispers surrounded him as he made his way through the crush, his sleeves dripping on the polished floor and his once-shining shoes sloshing with each step. In an attempt at civility, he offered tight smiles and murmured greetings to the throng as he passed, until he reached the far wall and cut a brusque bow in front of his sister and her friends.
The musicians took up their quadrille once more, and the dancers slowly resumed. The tightness in Jasper’s shoulders loosened ever so slightly.
He greeted the women in turn, then set his sights on Maria.
“Good heavens, Jasper,” Juliana whispered loudly. “Why are you so wet?”
Ignoring his sister, he attempted a smile, but very much feared that it took on a predatory gleam. “Miss Roberts, will you do me the great honour of joining me in the next waltz?”
Maria’s grey eyes sparked with— indignation? —before she flicked an apprehensive glance over his shoulder.
“I’m afraid that I am already engaged, Your Grace, but even should I not be, you’re in a state.”
Something cramped in his gut, and Jasper suppressed a grimace. Their exchange was expected, of course, even habitual, but whether it was his pride or something else altogether, he detested hearing her say those words each time he asked her for a dance.
His gaze flicked sideways to Maria before he turned to his sister. “An incident with my carriage.”
Feeling entirely out of place, Jasper glanced out at the dancers. And the breath all but left his lungs as fear swept in. A flash of brown hair and glaring blue eyes caught Jasper’s gaze through the crowd but was gone as swiftly as it had arrived. And for a moment, he was certain that he’d seen… But no, it couldn’t have been Francis. He would surely never venture into so populated a place as this. The man was toying with his mind.
“Good Lord,” Miss Heather Morgan put in. “Did you walk here?”
“No.” Jasper’s brows drew together as he eyed the shorter, ample woman with red-blonde hair.
“You seem reluctant to discuss matters, brother. Mayhap we ought to move to a more private setting?”
As discreetly as they could manage—which was entirely indiscreet, with everyone in attendance now acutely aware of them—the four of them wove through the throng and out the doors to the balcony. The evening air was cool and humid, the rain falling on the overhanging roof a delicate hum.
“Francis had my coachman replaced,” Jasper said without preamble, raking his fingers through his wet hair in an attempt to tame it.
“How could he accomplish that?” Miss Morgan asked.
Another jolt of panic shot through Jasper’s chest. “My footmen informed me that the hired man knocked my coachman to the ground and overtook the driver’s perch after I enclosed myself within. He drove like a madman, then leapt from the carriage after shooting one of my footmen. I was forced to drive it, myself.”
“Blimey,” Miss Morgan breathed.
“And your footman?” Maria prompted. “Did he survive?”
Jasper jerked his head in a nod. “Merely a graze. I brought him to the physician.”
“What do you suppose Francis’ intentions were?” Miss Morgan asked.
“The driver said that Francis wished me dead, but he could have meant to injure me instead, for why else would he hand me this ?” He withdrew the damp and wrinkled bit of parchment from his inner breast pocket and unfolded it.
“Is that—?” Maria began.
Jasper nodded. “ As F lies to wanton boys are we to the gods / They kill us for their sport ,” he read. “The F in flies is emphasized. And”—he sniffed the damp parchment—“it smells of laurel water.”
“Lucky you’re wearing gloves, then,” Juliana murmured.
“I don’t even understand what it means.” A growl escaped him, even as a shiver borne not only from cold, but also from nerves, wracked his frame. “I grow weary of this emotional torment.”
“I’m glad that you’re well, brother,” Juliana put in.
Maria nodded. “All the more reason for us to remain alert.”
Jasper wanted to once more protest their plan of going on as normal, but he knew that it was futile. These women were rather too intelligent for any sort of underhanded game. Despite the local magistrate and the Home Office doing their part, his sister and her friends were determined to see this through. And while above all he wanted them safely away from any danger, they’d proven themselves incapable of leaving things well enough alone.
A month before, he’d attempted to avoid Miss Roberts and Miss Morgan’s aid in dealing with Francis and Miles and finding Juliana. But he’d done abysmally, and his lack of trust in them and their abilities had rather cost them all valuable time, not to mention the strains it put on their relationships.
“Indeed,” Jasper agreed, his jaw tightening. “Alert.”
Another shiver travelled down his spine as a gust of warm wind blew past. He ought to have returned home and changed his clothes before attending. Christ knew the gossip mill would be busy on the morrow. He sodding hated that.
Glancing toward the balcony doors, he caught the watchful gaze of onlookers, and Lady Weatherby herself gestured toward him while in discussion with other guests. Her flushed cheeks and upturned brows implied concern and uncertainty, and he knew his time of private discussion would soon be over; the woman would surely join them to offer some sort of assistance. Hell, but he hoped she didn’t do that.
“Your Grace, would you believe me if I informed you that Miss Roberts spends the entirety of her days doing charity work?”
Jasper narrowed his gaze on Miss Morgan, curious about her intentions and entirely nonplussed by the abrupt change in topic. “What sort of charity work?”
She shrugged one shoulder. “Does it matter?” He arched a brow, and Miss Morgan sighed. “Finding homes for orphaned children.”
Turning his narrowed gaze on Maria, he twisted his lips in thought. The woman had the uncanny ability to command attention and obedience, and to encourage people to feel things…sometimes against their will. But to convince wealthy gentlemen and gentlewomen to adopt foundling children? Something inside him eased at the thought. Maria was caring—almost to a fault, inserting herself into the lives of others in order to aid them. She certainly had the soft heart for it.
“I would believe that, yes.”
“Aha!” Heather exclaimed jubilantly, turning to Maria. “Gullible! Most men are utter fools and will believe any nonsense that doesn’t challenge them. I believe you may safely choose any man to marry, and he should care nothing for your daily activities.”
Jasper’s heart nigh stopped. Marry?
Maria lifted an eyebrow at her friend. “Marriage that must first begin with a dance. Please excuse me; I must flirt my way into the life of some susceptible sod.”
With a swish of her skirts, she returned through the doors to the ballroom. But Jasper’s mind was stuck on that one word. Marry .
Something alarming was happening in his chest. There was a nervous tingling sensation. No, not nervous… Damnation, he couldn’t name the heart-twisting feeling. Whatever it was, it made him want to return to the overheated ballroom.
“…It is so unreasonable of Mr. and Mrs. Roberts,” Juliana was saying.
“No more unreasonable than any other society parents, I assure you,” Miss Morgan returned. “As a matter of fact, many would have forced her into a marriage long before now.”
“I beg your pardon?” Jasper asked, entirely perplexed by their discussion.
Juliana put a hand to his damp sleeve and gave it a gentle pat. “Maria’s parents have stated that if she does not surrender to their demands, she will be forced to become a chaperone to her cousin for a season and then a companion to her elderly aunt thereafter. They expect her to accept an offer of marriage within a fortnight and be married before Michaelmas.”
“So little time,” Miss Morgan moaned pityingly.
“She had more of a choice than I,” Juliana said, narrowing her gaze at Jasper. “Gratefully, I had the presence of mind to run away.”
Guilt suffused him, and he suppressed the scowl that threatened, focusing instead on the information at hand. A fortnight was, indeed, very little time in which to secure a match, especially for a woman already on the shelf, according to the haut ton . But Maria… married by the end of the summer?
Before he was aware of his actions, Jasper was through the doors and scouring the ballroom for any sight of her. He caught a glimpse of brown hair, but it was not the right shade, then saw a flash of lavender, but the dress was wrong…
Conversations increased in volume around him. One group of women discussed the ton ’s newest favourite author, Mr. Mystery, and his upcoming novel. Juliana’s and Miss Morgan’s voices floated up to him from several paces behind.
“Mr. Mystery is truly a superior option for Maria,” Miss Morgan was saying.
Juliana made a noise of agreement. “Your suggestion is excellent, but I do see Maria’s point about it not working between them?—”
Jasper halted and spun around, forcing the two women to draw up short. Unreasonable anger burned in his belly and fisted his hands. “What do you mean?”
With a glance about for eavesdroppers, Juliana leaned close and whispered, “Maria is… close to Mr. Mystery. Heather merely suggested that Maria come to an agreement with the man, but Maria made the excellent point that, er, Maria’s parents would not approve. Heather disagrees.”
Words wanted to spill forth from his mouth, but he clamped his lips together and spun on his heel to prowl through the throng once more. Jealous . The word buzzed around his head as he moved. He was sodding jealous. But why , for God’s sake?
Another flash of lavender caught his eye, and he turned his attention to the dancers. There she was, smiling charmingly at some prat as they danced the waltz. How in the bloody hell had she gotten a man to seek her hand so quickly?
* * *
Keeping her smile as genuine as possible, Maria clasped the baronet, Sir Asham, by the forearm and allowed him to guide her to the refreshments table. Despite the man’s unfortunate name—it reminded her dreadfully of burnt supper—he was an entirely acceptable, if tiresome, companion.
The poor man was known to seek the hand of at least one maiden per season, but he had been spurned by all of them. Nearing his fiftieth year, he was still youthful enough to sire children but old enough that he would not be overbearing in their rearing. He had a pleasing—if perpetually confused—disposition, but was appallingly incapable of carrying on a conversation. His complexion was enduringly ruddy, but he had a full head of dark hair and pleasing brown eyes.
She’d never considered the man as a potential suitor before, and likely never would have if her parents hadn’t demanded that she marry. But Sir Asham had responded to her brief flirtation, and she was very nearly guaranteed a proposal from the man if she gave him any sort of encouragement.
Her heart gave a squeeze and her stomach a sad wobble, but she brushed the feelings aside. She hadn’t a choice in this matter, drat it.
But surely there is someone more fitting with whom to spend my time? her inner voice whispered. Despite herself, her gaze slid across the ballroom to where Jasper stood with Heather and Juliana, his darkened gaze catching hers…and his attire still alarmingly damp. His eyes looked troubled. No . Angry? Whatever the emotion was, it sent an inappropriately heated quiver through her middle.
He’d nearly died that very evening. I almost lost him . But no. He wasn’t hers, and yet…
Her stomach twisted, and nerves danced up her arms and down her legs. She and Jasper had faced danger before—both together and separately—but what if Francis’ intent was no longer just emotional torment? What if the next time they crossed paths, Francis followed through on his threats?
No . She couldn’t countenance such a thought. Their replacements for his staff were, even at this moment, assembling and would soon be securing his home as a safe space.
Sir Asham patted the hand that rested upon his arm as they navigated the crush. Marriage . She suppressed a sigh, her thoughts drawing once more to Jasper.
Her unruly heart fluttered. I cannot pursue Jasper , she reminded herself.
While ten years was indeed a lengthy time to hold a grudge over his wager, it was not the only indiscretion of the duke’s that prevented her from allowing her obstinate feelings to flourish. His initial handling of the concern over his cousins, his rush to see Juliana married—which had forced her to flee him entirely—and his subsequent lack of confidence in the women’s capabilities with regard to this assignment were disheartening indeed.
And yet her pulse still quickened whenever she was near him…or saw him…or indeed whenever she thought of the dratted man.
And I almost lost him . Her heart squeezed painfully once more. The man might be irksome, but he was also… She sighed. He was also Jasper .
They reached the refreshments table, and Sir Asham thrust a cup at her. “Punch.”
Maria smiled graciously and accepted the proffered drink. “Thank you for the lovely dance.”
His ears pinkened. “Yes, thank you. Er, you as well. To be sure.” He rose up on his toes, his ears increasing in redness. “Quite right.”
“I do hope that the weather improves.” She took a sip of the punch. It was nearly tasteless it was so watered-down, but it was a relief from the heat of the room.
“Uh, yes. Quite. I bought a new curricle that I’d hoped to drive.”
“That sounds rather lovely.”
“W-would you care to join me? Wednesday, perhaps?”
She smiled at him. No . “I would, thank you.”
He beamed, his ears a full tomato red.
The strains of a quadrille began, and his eyes bulged. “Oh! I had better— I must seek my dance partner.”
“And I shall return to my friends. Thank you again, Sir Asham.” She grinned, watching him fumble his way through the crush as she steadfastly resisted the urge to tug discomfitingly at her bodice. The man was hopeless, but perfectly ideal for her purposes.
* * *
Sir Asham , Jasper spat in his mind. The man was a fool, and entirely beneath Maria’s notice. Why would she bother to entertain the baronet’s attentions?
Marry … The word glided through his thoughts once more, and he bit back a growl. What the devil is happening to me?
Hell, he was still damp and chilled, it made no sodding sense that he’d remained at the Weatherby ball. Maria . His gaze floated away from blasted Asham and back toward Maria, and something in his chest squeezed. He couldn’t leave now. Indeed, since the moment he’d learned of her intentions, he couldn’t pull himself away. But why , curse it? The woman held too much power over him.
“I see that you’ve become friendly with Sir Asham,” Heather drawled as Maria reached their group.
Maria hummed her confirmation. “He’s asked me to join him for a ride in his curricle on Wednesday.”
Jasper huffed. She’d never joined him for a drive. To be fair, he hadn’t asked. But she was always off with Juliana at some event, or having tea for Christ’s sake, and he’d never been included in their activities.
Fuck . I’ve missed my chance.
He blinked. That was an alarming thought. Maria had always just been there; when had he begun to desire more from their acquaintance?
“And did you accept?” Juliana asked.
Maria’s gaze flicked sideways to meet Jasper’s, and a bolt of awareness skittered down his spine.
Maria shrugged one shoulder. “Of course. He’s charmingly biddable.”
“Though not beddable,” Heather put in.
Jasper’s gut clenched, and his throat nigh closed. Hell’s tits .
“Sadly not beddable, no,” Maria agreed. “But certainly virile enough to give me a child, which should be pleasing.”
“His virility?” Heather asked.
Jasper’s jaw clenched as an unreasonable tide of anger swelled in his chest. How could gentlewomen speak thusly? Surely this was not the norm. And surely Maria didn’t truly imagine herself and Sir Asham in such a way.
Maria gave one short, breathy laugh. “I should say not. I meant the child.”
Hell . The thought of Maria being intimate with Sir sodding Asham, of having a child with him, was unconscionable. Without Jasper’s consent, a low growl emanated from his chest, garnering the attention of the women at his side.
Shite .
“I beg your pardon,” he muttered, forcibly shaking the tension from his hands, though the devil knew his body was teeming with it.
They stared at him silently for a long moment as the cheerful music, shuffling of feet, and animated conversations around them filled the void. The skin at the back of his neck began to prickle at their scrutiny.
“Shall we come to yours for tea on the morrow, Maria?” Juliana inquired.
Jasper shook himself internally, relieved by the sudden change in topic.
“Of course.” Maria grinned at her friend. “But let’s schedule for the afternoon at my alternate rooms; I have a standing engagement in the morning.”
Jasper frowned in puzzlement. Alternate rooms? “What sort of standing engagement?”
Maria and her friends replied simultaneously, “Charity.”