Chapter 23

Chapter Twenty-Three

W hat do you think of my granddaughter and your friend Kent?" Lady Bethany spoke into the long silence as the carriage bowled along a lane beneath a blue summer sky.

"Think of them?" Jasper appeared surprised.

"Haven't you noticed there is a certain frisson between them, whenever they are together? Really, Jasper, you can't be that unobservant."

"I suppose I have noticed a change in Kent since Miss Rotherhild arrived."

"That's better. A change in what way?"

"Well, he's far more jittery, as if he's living on his nerves." Jasper shifted uneasily on his seat. "Didn't you tell me your granddaughter came here with an eye for George, my dear? I'd hate Kent to have his heart broken by a fickle miss."

Lady Bethany bristled in defense of her granddaughter. "Marissa is not a fickle miss, Jasper, far from it. And as for George . . . if you knew how drab the poor girl's life has been you'd forgive her for setting her sights on the first man she met who was good-looking and the slightest bit interested in anything other than plants."

"I suppose so," he said uncertainly.

"I know so," she replied forthrightly. "But when we arrived at Abbey Thorne Manor and she came face-to-face with Kent—and he with her, I might add—she realized George wasn't the one. She has had stars in her eyes ever since."

Jasper smiled. "Do I have stars in my eyes, my dear?"

Lady Bethany pretended to peer closely into them, her face expressionless, but there was a flush on her cheeks that betrayed how she was really feeling. "There may be one or two," she admitted at last.

Jasper sighed contentedly. "Who would have thought that in the twilight of my years I would find the love of my life."

Lady Bethany slipped her hand into the crook of his arm. Falling in love was a wonderful thing, there was no doubt about it, but she'd lived long enough to accept it didn't always end happily or well. She had come to Abbey Thorne Manor for Marissa's sake, never expecting to meet a man with whom she could feel such an affinity.

The strange thing was that she'd recently given up on any more affairs of the heart. She was, she'd told herself, too old for the highs and lows of passionate love. These days a warm fire and comfortable slippers had become far more important than a man's companionship.

But even while she was preparing to make her bed and lie in it, she'd admitted that she missed the feel of strong arms about her, and the exquisite physicality of a masculine body pressed to hers. It wasn't even as if the act of connection mattered greatly to her anymore; it was the being close, being stroked and loved, and the feeling that she wasn't alone.

And then, quite unexpectedly, she met Jasper and found everything she'd decided to give up on.

He matched her intellectually as well as physically, and he made her smile. She looked forward to his company. She even felt the aches and pains of old age less since they'd become friends. Lady Bethany was feeling young again, like a girl in the throes of her first passion.

She closed her eyes in the shadow of her hat, enjoying the moment. Because for a woman of her years every positive moment was important and must be thoroughly enjoyed.

* * *

Valentine was asleep, or so he thought. In his dream he was resting in Marissa's arms and she was stroking strands of his hair back from his brow, her fingers gentle and soothing. She murmured his name and then kissed him lightly on his lips. It felt so perfect he told himself he didn't want to wake up, but it was already too late.

He opened his eyes.

She was looking down at him, her dark hair loose about her face, her dark eyes wide in her pale face.

She smiled, but even so he sensed her tension.

"I missed you," she said. "I know we cannot be together in the way I want, not yet, but I thought it wouldn't matter if we slept in each other's arms."

Valentine knew what he should say.

Doubt took away her smile and her lashes drooped. "I'll go. I'm sorry."

In answer he pulled her down, tightening his hold on her, drawing her in close against his shoulder, feeling the soft relaxing of her body against his. She was, he couldn't help but notice, wearing a white nightgown with long sleeves. It was virginal and would act as a reminder to behave himself.

"I prefer you stay," he admitted, his breath warm in her hair.

"I prefer to stay, too," she whispered with a sigh.

"Von Hautt—"

She placed a finger across his lips and shook her head, her hair tumbling around them. "Don't let's talk about him." Her gaze was pleading. "Let's forget about him, just for now."

He kissed her fingers, and took them in his own. "Are Jasper and your grandmother back yet?"

"Not yet."

He lay back and closed his eyes, and she snuggled into his arms with obvious pleasure. He held her, forcing his mind away from carnal thoughts, enjoying the closeness. How long was it since he'd held a woman like this?

Too long.

He'd been alone for so many years he'd forgotten the joys of having someone to share his bed and his life with, remembering only the negatives.

She tugged the covers up over them, her limbs tangling with his, her cheek upon his pillow, and smiled sleepily. "What would Morris think if he saw us like this?"

Valentine gave a mock shudder. "Nothing, probably. His expression would be enough to send you screaming back to your room."

"Morris doesn't frighten me. He's very loyal, isn't he?"

"He's been with me for a long time. Since my father died. I don't know how I'd manage without him; he's like one of the family. There isn't much about us that Morris doesn't know."

"You don't think Morris could be your spy?"

The idea was shocking. Morris? In cahoots with Von Hautt? It was like suspecting George, and Valentine found he couldn't do it. He shook his head.

"No, not Morris."

She murmured a reply but he could feel her growing limp as she drifted into sleep. Her breathing deepened. He watched her, sleepy himself, pretending just for a moment that he could have her beside him every night, that this was the beginning of a lifetime with her as his companion. The fantasy wasn't as difficult to visualize as he'd thought. He'd reached the point where his son was smiling up at him with Marissa's eyes and he was instructing him in some piece of botanical science, much to Marissa's disgust, when commonsense put a stop to it.

There was the rose to find and Von Hautt to defeat.

If Morris isn't the spy, then who?

Doubting his faithful retainers made him feel grubby and he closed his eyes and returned to Marissa instead.

Soon he had followed her into sleep.

* * *

As far as finding the rose went, the purpose of their journey had been a waste of time, although on a personal level Jasper and Lady Bethany had enjoyed themselves immensely. The manor of the de Turville family had been destroyed by fire many centuries ago and what remained was then taken by the local farmers to build their barns and byres and houses.

Jasper made a careful search across the overgrown patch of ground where the manor once stood. Lady Bethany refused to help him, saying she valued her skin too much, preferring to watch him from the safety of the carriage as he cursed and thrashed his stick through the weeds and brambles.

But it was all to no avail, and after Jasper declared that if the rose had ever existed here then it existed no longer, they turned for home.

"That leaves William Beauchamp," Lady Bethany said, after ticking the list of crusaders' names off on her fingers. "He is our last and final hope."

Jasper looked morose. "Poor Kent. He thought he had a real chance of finding the rose. I don't know what he'll do if this fails."

"He'll keep looking, surely?"

"Oh yes, he'll keep looking, my dear. But he knows, just as I know, that there is the distinct possibility it no longer exists. That no matter how hard and how long he searches for the wretched thing he's never going to find it."

"Is he the sort of man who'd become embittered?"

Jasper considered the question seriously. "I wouldn't have said so, although lately he seems to have become rather desperate about the whole thing."

Lady Bethany waved a lazy hand at an insect that had decided her chip straw bonnet would make a nice home. "You do realize, Jasper, that my visit is coming to an end."

He turned to her with a startled look. "Good heavens! You're leaving, my dear?"

"You know Marissa and I must return to our home in London, Jasper. And who knows where we'll be this time next week! Probably in the wilds of Sutherland, hunting for mosses in knee-deep snow. My son-in-law is relentless when it comes to his chosen field."

"Good heavens," Jasper repeated, clearly shocked at the prospect. "We can't have that. I'll have to come and rescue you, my dear. Carry you off on some romantic tryst, eh?"

Lady Bethany smiled a little smile. "I would like that," she said. "It sounds very agreeable."

"Should I rescue your granddaughter, too? Or do you think she'll be all right?"

"Oh yes, I think so," she said. "If I am right, Jasper, then we'll have a wedding to attend before too long, and I will be able to boast to all my friends that I was instrumental in bringing it about."

"And were you, my dear?"

"I played my part, Jasper. I intend to claim the credit anyway."

He laughed, and she laughed with him.

After a moment he grew serious. "I'm an old bachelor, my dear. Set in my ways. I never thought I'd . . . well, I've no idea what I'd be like as a husband at my age."

Lady Bethany patted his hand, where he held the reins. "I don't want another husband, Jasper. I'd much prefer a good friend."

"Would you?" He seemed struck by the thought. "I thought all women were keen on bagging a husband."

"Not all, I promise you."

"Friends then," Jasper said. "Very good friends."

They drove on in silence, both very content with the future they envisioned.