Chapter 6

Ten minutes later, the butler announced that dinner was served. Lady Milthorpe introduced Jasper to Lady Josephine, and he offered her his arm.

They were seated near the head of the table, which was unsurprising, given their rank. As they made their way to that end of the dining room, Jasper noticed a place card bearing his brother’s name about halfway down the table. He was seated between Mrs. Cartwright and Lady Duncombe.

Good. His brother would benefit from passing a couple of hours in the company of someone other than that Weatherby chit.

A flash of raspberry silk caught his eye. Eleanor Weatherby stood near the far end of the table, scrutinizing the place cards before her. Jasper could almost see the thoughts flitting behind those intelligent eyes of hers.

She glanced up and down the room, then, quick as a snake, she snatched one of the place cards near the far end of the table…

… and swapped it out with the one at Felix’s assigned place.

Jasper stiffened. Why, that brazen little minx!

“Is anything the matter, Your Grace?” Lady Josephine asked in lilting, sophisticated tones.

“Not at all,” Jasper said. He hastily pulled out her chair, but his gaze did not stray from the far end of the table.

Felix strolled into the room, Philippa Weatherby on his arm. Seeing his assigned seat, he smiled broadly. “Well, this is a bit of a chance, isn’t it?” He held out a chair for Miss Philippa, then settled into the seat next to her.

Eleanor Weatherby was peering around, no doubt trying to ascertain if she had been caught. When her gaze reached the top of the table, she locked eyes with him and froze.

Jasper gave her his most imperious ducal glower.

For a second, she did not move, and no wonder. Jasper had made grown men cry with the very look he was leveling at her right now.

Not Eleanor Weatherby. Boldly holding his gaze, she lifted her chin, and then?

The impudent miss had the temerity to smirk at him! Her eyes all but dared him to say something to Lady Milthorpe, which, of course, he was not going to do. The only thing worse than Felix sitting next to Philippa Weatherby for the duration of dinner would be Jasper kicking up a fuss about it.

Eleanor Weatherby seemed to be enjoying his steaming fury, because her lips twisted upward. Tossing a triumphant grin over her shoulder, she sauntered around the table to assume her seat.

Smoldering with rage, Jasper settled into his own chair.

Soon, the guests had all found their seats. Struggling to keep his feelings in check, he offered Lady Josephine some of the white soup in the tureen in front of him, which she accepted.

“Tell me, Your Grace,” she began, taking up her spoon, “do you enjoy the theater?”

Jasper perked up a bit. This seemed like a promising overture. He was a great fan of the theater, in particular, the works of Shakespeare. “I do. What is your opinion of it, Lady Josephine?”

She gave him a dazzling smile. “Oh, I absolutely adore the theatre!”

Jasper leaned toward her as he took up his own spoon. “And what do you think about the works of Shakespeare?”

“Shakespeare?” She gave an incredulous laugh. “I prefer something a bit more fashionable than those stodgy old plays!”

Jasper struggled not to let his disappointment show on his face. “I see. What plays do you prefer?”

She went on to rhapsodize about some of the plays she had seen in London during the Season. Out of her five favorite plays, Jasper had seen three of them, and although they had been passable enough for an evening’s entertainment, they were ultimately forgettable. He didn’t think any of them could hold a candle to Macbeth or The Winter’s Tale.

But he attempted to be cordial and said nothing of it to Lady Josephine.

Their conversation turned from the theater to the Season more generally. For Lady Josephine, this seemed to have consisted primarily of various balls and routs.

“Did you attend Thomas Hope’s rout in June?” she asked.

“I did not. Parliament was in session that evening.” As most members of both the House of Lords and House of Commons were men of fashion who kept the ton’s hours, parliamentary debate began late in the afternoon and often stretched into the evening.

“Oh!” Lady Josephine looked startled. “Was there a particularly important measure up for a vote?”

Jasper shook his head. “No, just routine business.”

She gave a trilling laugh. “Surely you could have skipped just one evening in order to attend an event so significant as Thomas Hope’s annual rout!”

Jasper grunted. He considered his service in the House of Lords to be a sacred charge. If it was in session, he was going to be there, and he certainly wasn’t going to neglect his duty to attend some party. But he could hardly contradict Lady Josephine without coming off as a great arse.

As the dinner wore on, it became increasingly clear that the primary attractions Lady Josephine felt to becoming his wife would be gaining the title of duchess and having the St. James family fortune at her disposal. She was sophisticated and seemed clever enough, but Jasper did not detect any great depths.

Not that he was writing her off entirely. Lady Josephine was still well-bred and ready to step into the role of duchess. And after all, the reason he had his pick of brides was because of his title and fortune. To hold the fact that these were attractions against a woman would be to ignore the way of the world.

Yet he did not want those to be the only reasons his future bride wanted to marry him, and Jasper found himself hoping that Lady Francesca would prove a better match.

Raised voices from the far end of the table caught his attention. Jasper recognized Lucas Robertson, an old schoolmate of Felix’s, and his sister, Anna-Maria, at the center of the hubbub.

Jasper couldn’t help but scowl. He’d always thought Lucas Robertson was a bad influence on his brother. He also suspected that the sister, Anna-Maria, had her eye on Felix, or, more accurately, Felix’s fortune. He shouldn’t be surprised that they were here, given that they lived nearby, but he wished Lady Milthorpe could have contrived an excuse to keep them off the guest list.

The Weatherby sister in the brown dress, Clarissa, was glaring poison at Anna-Maria. “Yes, this is a borrowed dress. No, we’ve never had asparagus before, nor did we have a season in London, as I’m sure you’re well aware. Now, if you’ve exhausted your supply of snide remarks, I would appreciate it if you would let my sisters and I eat our dinner in peace.”

“My gracious!” Anna-Maria Robertson chuckled. “Lady Milthorpe has always been known for her charitable nature. Only now do I understand just how well her reputation is deserved.”

Clarissa started to respond, but her sister, Eleanor, spoke first. “Clarissa.” Her voice was a rich alto that hit Jasper in the gut. She only spoke her sister’s name, but she managed to imbue that single word with an unmistakable note of authority.

“But, Eleanor—” Clarissa protested.

Eleanor silenced her younger sister with a look. “We would never mar our hostess’s gathering by being disagreeable.”

The younger Weatherby sister slouched in her seat but said no more.

Beside her, Anna-Maria preened, seeming to have missed the fact that she was the true target of Eleanor’s rebuke.

Smirking, she turned to Felix, but her face fell when she found his expression stony.

Such an expression was unlike his brother. Jasper took it that Anna-Maria must’ve been needling the youngest Miss Weatherby for some time before her sister snapped.

Anna-Maria’s cheeks grew ruddy as Felix pointedly turned to Philippa and engaged her in conversation.

Jasper’s gaze traveled to Eleanor. He could scarcely believe he was thinking such a thing, but he could not help but admire the deftness with which she had handled the confrontation, and also how effectively she had reined in her sister.

Would that he could be half so effective at managing Felix.

But, judging by the glowers Anna-Maria and her brother were now directing at Philippa Weatherby, who was obliviously chatting with his brother, Jasper fancied he was no longer the only guest counting the Weatherby sisters as his enemy.