Chapter 30

As he staggered up the steps of Milthorpe Manor in the dark, Jasper mused grimly that he should’ve been exhausted. He’d spent the last twelve hours in the saddle, scarcely pausing to eat and drink. But he was so wracked with anxiety, he knew that even were he to collapse upon his bed, he would not settle into a restful slumber.

He hadn’t been this miserable since the deaths of his father and stepmother fifteen years ago. He had just ruined his relationship with Felix. The thought of his brother out there on the road, feeling humiliated and betrayed, absolutely gutted him. He was desperate to make amends, but before he could prostrate himself at his brother’s feet, he had to find him. And that was proving to be a challenge.

He had received an update from Lord Milthorpe’s stablemaster when he came in—Felix had last been spotted on the road toward Birmingham. Naturally he was riding Sharif, the Arabian stallion Jasper had spent a bloody fortune on. That was the rub, all right—Sharif could carry Felix all the way to Birmingham and beyond, as easily as most horses took a jaunt in Hyde Park. Just contemplating the number of roads leading out of Birmingham made Jasper’s head pound. His brother could be anywhere by now.

He would find Felix. He would make things right. But it appeared that it was going to take significantly longer than Jasper would have liked.

And that was only the first of his problems—he had very likely also ruined things with Eleanor. The only image he seemed to be able to hold in his mind other than Felix’s look of betrayal was the fury with which Eleanor had regarded him in the breakfast room. She was right to be furious—he had stood idly by while her sister had been humiliated, falsely accused, and had her privacy violated before more than a dozen witnesses. He had been the opposite of a white knight, and he felt devastated by his own failure.

And he knew it was selfish to worry about his own happiness when he had played a hand in ruining Felix’s. But he had not realized how deeply he loved Eleanor, how much he needed her in his life, until the prospect of her refusing to have anything to do with him became such a distinct possibility.

At least he wouldn’t have to wait weeks to have it out with Eleanor. He would learn his fate tonight.

The prospect made him feel like he might be ill right there on Lady Milthorpe’s carpeted staircase.

Surely enough, as he reached the top of the stairs, Eleanor stepped out of an alcove, chin raised and eyes flinty.

“I know you have been out riding all day,” she began. “I am therefore not sure if you have a moment to talk—”

“Yes—please—let’s do it now.” Jasper brushed a leaf off the cuff of his coat and raked his hands through his hair in an attempt to make himself presentable. “I think there’s a sitting room through here,” he said, gesturing to a door.

Eleanor led the way into the silver and blue parlor and went to stand by the fireplace. Not wanting to sit while she stood and frankly concerned that he was too filthy for the furniture, Jasper loomed awkwardly next to the sofa.

She fixed her eyes upon the carpet. “The matter I wished to discuss was the proposal of marriage you issued last night,” she said in a clipped voice.

“What about it?” Jasper asked, his own voice hoarse.

She squeezed her eyes shut. “I was not sure if you had thought better of it, or if your offer still stands.”

Although her voice was as cold as a December morning, hope flared in Jasper’s chest. At least she hadn’t told him outright that he was the last man she would ever consider marrying, and he should abandon all hopes to the contrary. Eleanor Weatherby was a forthright woman, and if she had determined she was going to throw him over, she would have told him at once.

Wouldn’t she?

“It still stands,” he said in a rush. “I’ve been in agony all day, not just about Felix, but out of fear that I had driven you away as well.” He paused, struggling to read her expression. “Have I?” he asked softly.

She opened her eyes a slit. Her mouth was pinched, as if she had just drunk a bitter draught. “As you pointed out last night, some of us do not have the luxury of turning down a respectable proposal, even when the man who issued it has behaved in the most disgraceful manner imaginable—”

“I have,” Jasper said, rushing forward to seize her hands. “I absolutely have.”

“—not merely disgraceful, but mutton-headed—”

“Mutton-headed is just the word,” Jasper agreed. “Beef-witted. Duncical, even.”

Suddenly her stony reserve cracked, and tears streaked down her cheeks. “Pippa is despondent! She has been sobbing upon the bed all day.”

“I’m so sorry,” Jasper said, voice trembling.

“I don’t know what to do for her,” Eleanor sniffed, wiping her cheek with the back of her hand. “Not only has she been publicly humiliated, but she is in agony over whether things can be mended with Felix.”

“Her reaction is imminently understandable. And it’s all my fault.”

“Well…” Eleanor glanced up with him, sympathy tempering her pique. “The fault lies primarily with the Robertsons.”

“While their conduct was atrocious, I was too quick to rush to judgment. Would that I could somehow go back and demand to inspect the journal more closely! But I thought I knew best, as usual.” He shook his head. “I wouldn’t blame Pippa if she hates me. But, Eleanor—does this mean you’ll marry me?”

Her nose wrinkled as if the prospect were distinctly untasteful, but she nodded. “Yes. I will.”

Jasper had hauled her into his arms before she even finished the sentence. He was muddy and smelled of horse, but he couldn’t help himself, and besides, this was far from his worst offense on the day. “Thank God. I’ve been frantic. I was so sure you were going to throw me over. It feels selfish to worry about my own happiness when I’ve ruined my brother’s, but I’ll admit I’ve been doing it.”

He pulled back to kiss her but paused when he found her lips in a thin, white line. “Will you ever be able to forgive me?” he whispered.

“It’s happening again,” she said, voice shaking. “This time, it will be even worse than when Rupert Dupree jilted Clarissa. This will be in all the papers. People will accept without question that Pippa is grasping and malicious. I cannot bear to watch my sisters go through that again, and for something they did not even do!”

He squeezed her hands. “I will not let that happen. I swear it.”

She did not seem to have heard. “I am so, so sick of being treated like rubbish because of the mistakes of some man! First it was Rupert Dupree, then, it was my father, leaving us penniless and desperate.” She swiped a thumb beneath her eyes. “Although in truth, it has always been my father. He never showed an ounce of care for his daughters. But that is not my fault!”

“It’s not,” Jasper agreed, rubbing her arms. “Of course, it’s not.”

“That’s the worst part—having no ability to improve my lot. Were I allowed to work, I would be the best barrister in all of England!”

“You would be terrifying to behold.”

“But I can’t,” Eleanor said, voice tinged with bitterness. “The only forms of employment considered respectable for a woman pay a pittance. My present misfortunes were all caused by decisions someone else made, and I can do nothing about it. It is insufferable!”

“I’m sure it is,” Jasper murmured.

“It is not my fault that I am poor, or that I’m a Weatherby Wallflower! It doesn’t make me worse than everyone else! Really, it doesn’t have anything to do with me. But no one sees that.”

“I see it,” Jasper insisted. “It’s the reason I want to marry you. Because you, Eleanor Weatherby, are more precious than gold.”

Her eyes were skeptical when they cut to his face, but then they softened. Jasper hoped she saw sincerity when she looked in his eyes.

“I know I have behaved abominably,” he continued. “But I swear, I will make up for it. I will make sure nothing gets out that will cause Pippa embarrassment.”

Eleanor looked unconvinced. “How are you going to do that?”

“At the risk of sounding like a ridiculous braggart, I am rather good at being both large and terrifying. And if that fails to put the fear of God into Lucas Robertson, I’ll have the mastiffs attack him.”

That earned him the tiniest of smiles. “Beatrice and Benedick are about as ferocious as the kittens. They wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

“Less ferocious, by far. You should see what Midnight did to my boots. But Lucas doesn’t know that.” He caressed the back of her hands with his thumbs. “I realized something while I was out riding around today. The thought of losing you… it felt like dying. I love you, Eleanor. You’re everything I’ve always wanted in a wife, in a partner.”

She started crying again, and Jasper’s heart sank.

But then she said, “God help me, I am fairly certain that I love you, too.”

He had to kiss her after that, and thank God, she let him. They were both trembling by the time Jasper lifted his head.

“I should be getting back,” Eleanor said. “My sisters were fairly confident that you still wanted to marry me. But they are no doubt in a state of some anxiety, wondering if we’re going to have a roof over our heads when this house party ends.”

Jasper stepped back, retaining her hands. “Please, go and reassure them. They will always have a place in my household.”

“Thank you,” she whispered. She squeezed his hands one time, and then she was gone.

Jasper headed down the hall toward his rooms. Although one weight had been lifted from his shoulders, he still felt ill when he thought about Felix.

But if there was one thing he had learned through the many hours he’d spent reading Shakespeare over the years, it was that one should not surrender to some craven scruple of thinking too precisely on the event. The path to solving his problems lay clearly before him, and the solution was action.

It would not be a simple task. He had to track his brother down before he could even start to make things right. There were hundreds—perhaps thousands—of steps he would have to take if he wanted to find his brother.

But if he had to visit every inn in Birmingham, he could do that. If he had to interrogate every innkeeper in England, he could do that, too.

His first task began tomorrow—saving Pippa’s reputation. He probably wouldn’t get much sleep tonight, but no matter.

He had planning to do. Tomorrow morning, he was going to make a scene.

And it was going to be worthy of Shakespeare.