Chapter 15

Once the morning rehearsals concluded, Jasper went looking for his brother. He didn’t have to look hard.

Felix was in Jasper’s own suite of rooms, sitting on the floor with a kitten in his lap, scratching Beatrice behind her floppy ears.

“Felix! I was just going to go and look for you.” Jasper gave an awkward chuckle as he set the book he’d brought with him on an end table. “Didn’t expect I’d find you here, of all places.”

Felix refused to look at his brother. “I decided to spend my morning with someone who actually appreciates my company.” He placed Wellington on the mat next to Beatrice, then stood. “I’ll leave.”

Jasper stepped in front of the door, holding his hands out placatingly. “Felix, wait.”

“Could I get by?” Felix asked shortly, eyes fixed upon the carpet.

It was as bad as he had supposed. His brother wanted nothing to do with him, and who could blame him?

Jasper drew in a breath and braced himself to say two words he rarely uttered. “I’m sorry.”

The words came out a bit wobbly. He sounded entirely unlike his usual commanding, ducal self.

But maybe that was what caught Felix’s attention, because he actually looked up. His gaze remained wary, but at least he was looking Jasper in the eye. “Come again?”

“I’m so sorry, Felix,” Jasper said in a rush. “I shouldn’t have said… well, pretty much everything I said to you this morning. I didn’t even mean it. I didn’t enjoy that stupid play, either.”

All at once, Felix’s stony fa?ade crumbled. “You humiliated me, Jasper!”

“I know.” Jasper ran a hand across his face, miserable. “I was such an arse.”

At least he had found a theme Felix could warm to. “You most certainly were! You all but called me an idiot in front of everyone!”

“I did,” Jasper agreed. “I shouldn’t have said it. I don’t think you’re stupid. Of course, you could memorize those lines if you put your mind to it.”

Felix crossed his arms. “Well, if you don’t think any of those things, then why did you say them?”

“Mostly because of Eleanor Weatherby. She has a way of getting under my skin,” Jasper admitted. “She started arguing that Timon of Athens was rubbish, and I couldn’t bear to let her get the last word in, even though I agree that Timon of Athens is rubbish. I should have just conceded the point and moved on instead of being so bloody bullheaded.” He rubbed an eye with the heel of his hand.

When he looked up, Felix’s eyes were sympathetic. “That still doesn’t explain why you made that last remark about how I wouldn’t be able to memorize the lines.”

“I was just so desperate to prevent you from spending the morning with Philippa Weatherby, I would’ve said just about anything.”

In an instant, Felix was scowling at him again. “Excuse me, brother,” he said coldly, attempting to slide around Jasper and reach the door.

Jasper stepped in front of him. “Wait, Felix. Wait. We’re going to have a civilized conversation about this.”

“Oh, are we?” Felix laughed ironically. “That’ll be a first for you.”

“It will,” Jasper acknowledged. “But this time, I can do it, because I spoke to her. I spent all morning with Miss Philippa.”

Felix’s eyes remained guarded, but Jasper could tell he was also curious. “And?” he asked, arching a single eyebrow.

“She seems like everything you’ve said,” Jasper admitted. “Kind. Cheerful. Good-natured. And she definitely loves cats.”

That earned him a laugh. “That she does.” Felix’s expression became guarded once more. “Then what seems to be the problem?”

“Two weeks, Felix!” Jasper exclaimed. “I wouldn’t want you to marry anyone on the strength of two weeks’ acquaintance! Not the daughter of a duke, not the richest heiress in all of Europe, not a bloody princess. It’s just not a good idea.”

A soft smile had stolen across his brother’s face. “Yet that’s the situation I find myself in. She has to marry someone by the end of this house party, or she and her sisters will find themselves without a roof over their heads. If I don’t propose, the odds are very high that she’ll marry Lord Oglesby. And so, I have to decide.”

“I know that now. She explained, and—” Jasper gestured to the sofa and cluster of chairs at the center of the room. “Will you sit with me, so we can discuss it?”

Much to Jasper’s surprise, Felix agreed. Jasper poured them each a brandy and took the seat opposite his brother. “I don’t like it, Fee,” Jasper said, taking a sip of his drink. “This is one of the most important decisions you’ll ever make. Marriage is forever, and two weeks just isn’t enough time to determine whether two people will suit.” Jasper waved a hand, struggling to put words to a sentiment he normally wouldn’t express. “I care about you, and I want you to be happy. I desperately do not want you to make a mistake in this.”

Remarkably, this maudlin drivel seemed to have been the right thing to say, because Felix was now smiling softly at him, a genuine smile. “And that’s why you’ve been acting like a horse’s arse. Because you care about me so much.”

“Yes! You have it exactly.”

Felix shook his head, but he was grinning. “Well, I’m glad you’ve finally pulled your head out of your arse. You think I haven’t been worried about the exact same thing?” At Jasper’s surprised look, Felix continued, “Of course, I have. And I’ve been wanting to talk it through with my big brother, who knows me better than anyone. Except every time I opened my mouth, you cut me off.”

“I’m sorry,” Jasper said again. “I need to do a better job of wrapping my head around the notion that you’re not nine anymore, or even nineteen.”

“That, and suppress your inherent tendency to boss everyone around,” Felix noted.

“There’s also that,” Jasper agreed. He studied his brother. For all his talk of worrying about what he was going to do, Felix looked remarkably relaxed with one booted foot propped up on his knee and an arm outstretched along the top of the burgundy sofa.

“So, what are you going to do?” Jasper asked. “About Miss Philippa.”

Felix tapped the side of his glass. “Assuming things continue in their current vein, and I don’t discover something about Pippa that changes my mind, I’m probably going to propose.” He gave Jasper a speaking look. “That is, if someone will allow me to access my fortune a little early. Although I have expectations, I’m not currently in the position to support her.”

Jasper winced. He could not believe he was about to say this.

But if he didn’t get this right, he was fairly certain he was going to ruin his relationship with the person he cared about most in the world.

“If that is your decision,” he said slowly, deliberately, “then when the time comes, I will grant you a sum of five thousand pounds to live off of until such time as you come into your full inheritance.”

Felix looked pleased and startled in equal measure. “Really? You’ll give me an advance on my funds?”

“Not an advance, no.”

Felix frowned. “But I thought you said—”

“There’s also Addlestone Hall,” Jasper said, ploughing over his brother so he could get everything out before the worrying voices in his head got the better of him.

Now Felix looked befuddled, although Jasper knew he was familiar with Addlestone Hall, an unentailed, mid-sized property that was part of the ducal estate. “What about Addlestone Hall? What does Addlestone Hall have to do with—”

“I’ve long thought Addlestone Hall would be the ideal home for you. It’s a good size—not too small, but not so large that it’s overly expensive to maintain. It is close enough to London that the journey is not arduous, yet far enough in the country, and with sufficient acreage, that it could support… well. Whatever menagerie you intend to acquire upon reaching your majority.”

Felix’s face was crinkled in confusion. “Are you going to rent it to me, then?”

This was sufficient to snap Jasper out of his hasty monologue. “Rent it to you? Gracious, no. It, and the five thousand pounds I mentioned earlier would be my”—he swallowed, then forced his mouth to form the words—“my wedding gift.”

Felix stared at him, mouth hanging agape, for five agonizing seconds.

Then he surged to his feet. “You’re the best, Jasp!”

Jasper stood as well. “You’d like it, then? Addlestone Hall?”

“Addlestone Hall is perfect,” Felix said, clasping both of Jasper’s shoulders and squeezing. “I’ll be able to go back and forth to London for meetings of the S.P.C.A. But, like you said, I’ll also have room to keep a few animals myself.”

Jasper squeezed his brother’s arm. “God only knows what motley assortment you’ll adopt. You’ll probably have a regular menagerie by this time next year.”

Felix shrugged. “Honestly, I’m not planning on seeking out anything exotic. I’ll probably wind up with a herd of worn-out carriage horses.”

Jasper grinned. “I’ll brag at the club that my brother has the worst cattle in all of Britain.”

Felix laughed. “I probably will. Excepting Sharif, of course.” Felix was referring to the very beautiful, very expensive Arabian stallion Jasper had purchased for him a few years back. “And I will consider it to be a badge of honor.”

“Good. Good. You’ll be happy there.” Jasper looked away and added, his voice gruff, “That’s all I want. I hope you know that.”

Felix squeezed his shoulders once more, then let go. “I do.”

“Good.” Jasper cleared his throat. “Now, don’t go rushing into anything. You still have a week to get to know Miss Philippa. I want you to be as sure as you possibly can.”

“I agree. And I want you to spend time with her, too. I do value your opinion, Jasp. At least, when you’re not trampling all over me.”

Jasper nodded tightly. “Of course. I daresay nobody would enjoy that. But I’m determined to do bet—”

From the mats beneath the window, one of the mastiffs gave a plaintive whine. Jasper glanced over and found Benedick looking around. “What is it, old boy?”

Benedick gave a pathetic yowl, which awakened Beatrice from her nap. She sat up, looked around, and woofed in alarm.

Jasper knelt next to his dogs. “What is it, old girl?”

“I think we’re missing a kitten,” Felix observed.

Surely enough, there were only three tiny fluffballs dispersed across the dogs’ beds. Midnight was the kitten who had gone missing. Felix and Jasper began a quick search of the room, but to no avail.

“Blast.” Jasper gestured to the door leading out into the hallway. “I didn’t shut it all the way. Do you think he got out?”

“Probably so. He’s certainly not anywhere else in the room.” Felix waved this off. “I’ll go and look for him. He can’t have gone far.”

“Thank you,” Jasper said. “I’ve a couple of things to do before my big performance this afternoon.” He gave an exaggerated shudder.

Felix laughed, but then his expression turned serious. “No, Jasper. Thank you.”

He was halfway down the corridor before Jasper had a chance to respond, but that was all right. He had finally mended things with his brother.

Feeling better than he had in several days, Jasper returned to the sofa, taking up the book he had brought with him from the ballroom—a copy of Timon of Athens. Eleanor Weatherby’s assertion that it was an unfinished first draft was utterly outrageous. Jasper prided himself on being something of a scholar when it came to Shakespeare, and he had never heard anyone else make this ridiculous suggestion. He meant to read the play afresh so he would have proper ammunition with which to disprove Miss Weatherby’s absurd theory.

An hour later, he had managed to read the first three acts. Much to his horror, he could see what she meant. The verse felt unfinished, full of lazy half-rhymes and passages that didn’t quite scan.

But more than that… the play felt strangely disjointed, lacking a uniform style from scene to scene. If Jasper hadn’t known better, he would have said that several scenes didn’t even sound like they were written by Shakespeare—the banqueting scene, for one, and Alcibiades’ confrontation with the Senate. He also found much of the humor strangely displeasing. It was abrasive and harsh, without an underlying note of affection to soften it.

Scowling, Jasper tossed the book onto the table. How vexing, that Eleanor Weatherby had been right! She had spotted him taking the copy of Timon of Athens from the ballroom. She knew full well he would be reading it right now. He could just picture her smug smile as she asked him what he had thought of the text. How loathsome it would be to have to admit that he had been wrong!

And yet… he could not believe he was thinking this… part of him admired her for her astute observation. Jasper hadn’t much liked the play from the first time he read it, had quickly dismissed it as one of Shakespeare’s lesser works.

But he had not analyzed the play as adroitly as she had, had not been able to put his finger on precisely what made it inferior.

And so, he was torn between admiration of the fact that Eleanor Weatherby was apparently so very clever and exasperation at the fact that, in this instance, she had been more clever than him.

Jasper ran a hand over his face. He needed to head downstairs and eat something. He needed to keep up his strength for the performances that afternoon.

That, and his impending confrontation with Eleanor Weatherby.