Chapter Nineteen

G eorgiana made desultory conversation in the ladies’ parlor where they all, even Jeffrey, awaited Reginald before tea was served. When he entered the room, apologizing to Lady Iversley for his tardiness, Georgiana’s spirits lifted. Then they plummeted because her heart should not be beating faster at the mere sight of him.

He looked better. Not better exactly, but rested. His nascent beard was gone. His hair had been tamed. And he wore a neckcloth with a particularly high knot as if to make up for his earlier dishevelment.

She imagined she might distinguish among the lords of Iversley just by their clothes.

Jasper dressed to perfection. He had a bit of the Beau Brummel about him. His attire was of the most recent fashion but without any of its flamboyance. His tailoring was exquisite but not fussy. His collar was bleached and starched, but the points were not so high as to pierce his earlobes. His boots were kept shined to a gloss, but he did not embellish them with tassels or extra buckles. He wore one ring, not more. There was nothing ostentatious about him, yet he would gather all eyes in a ballroom.

Crispin was a military man. Whether in uniform or civilian clothes, his appearance was that of an officer, though she could not say what it was exactly about him. But the man carried bandages and spirits along on a hunting frolic, one safe enough to include ladies, on family property. That was Crispin.

And Reginald? He effaced himself. He dressed carefully, not to stand out but to blend in. Georgiana would wager he didn’t even realize that that was what he did.

Teatime conversation centered on arrangements to attend church the following day. If it rained, they would take the carriage. If the weather was fair, they would walk. How far was the walk? Oh, not so very. Three-quarters of an hour. A little laugh—the boys could do it in half that.

Georgiana could scarcely bear it. She and Reginald avoided looking at one another so assiduously that she was certain everyone must notice their efforts. But no. They droned on.

Then the decision was made to walk in the garden. The rain had ceased. The evening was pleasant. The late-fall blossoms, so ephemeral, must be enjoyed. Lady Iversley shooed the young folks outside. She was going to sit with the Earl. Mama was going to her chamber to write home.

On the way out the door, they collected their wraps. Reginald happened to pick up hers, and he draped it over her shoulders.

“Anything?” he murmured.

“Not yet.” She had discovered quite a bit, but nothing pertaining to the matter, except that it did appear nothing had been amiss in his grandfather’s time. She knew that Reginald’s allowance was one-fifth of Jasper’s. Crispin’s had been too, but ceased temporarily when he went into the army, then, after a few months, he was allotted just fifty pounds per year. That was typical enough for young men whose fathers had means to supplement their soldiers’ pay, though it seemed a miserly sum in this case. Moreover, as far as she could see, no commission had been purchased. Which made no sense. Earls’ sons did not enlist. And enlisted men rarely ever rose to an officer’s rank. But none of this was any of her business. “I need that plot summary.”

His lips twitched. “Olivia?”

“Found me after only two hours.” She’d had to put her hands over her ears and command Olivia not to say anything until she had finished reading the novel. It was too, too engrossing and she didn’t want even one twist of the plot to be spoiled.

Reginald moved away from her. She stepped closer to Olivia and Alice, but Jasper swooped down and claimed her arm.

The garden was remarkable. The fragrance alone would have made the walk worthwhile. The paths swirled and crossed one another. Little fountains appeared in niches. Although there were few blossoms, the pruned bushes were flourishing. But, as the others moved along one of the wider paths, Jasper stalled, then took her down another.

Please, no. Not yet.

He pointed out a supposedly rare flower from Belgium and said there was a cherubic statue with Olivia’s face that she would enjoy seeing. The voices of the others grew more distant.

She would simply tell him no. She didn’t owe him a reason. Not even after she’d agreed to come here. She had not committed to anything. And as for ton talk—surely out of sight was out of mind. For Heaven’s sake. Refusing a man was not difficult. She had done it sixteen times her first Season! All she need do was give him a gentle but brook-no-argument “No.”

“I suppose,” he said, speaking low, “you have been wondering who Mr. Tibury is.”

“Who?” She laughed with nervous relief. “Oh, no. Well, no. It isn’t any of my concern.”

“It’s no scandalous family secret.” He smiled his ingratiating smile. “He is the curate in one of the towns a few miles away. The Earl has the disposal of a few livings and two of them are likely to become available within the next couple of years. Perhaps sooner if Mr. Codworthy wishes to step aside. Anyway, some of Mr. Tibury’s friends wrote to the Earl advocating for him. And the Earl summoned him to offer him the livings and his congratulations.”

“Oh.” That was an anticlimax. “Odd that he seemed so peeved to be here.”

Jasper chuckled. “In the poor fellow’s defense, he was summoned, he came all that distance, and Peters nearly turned him away at the door.” He shook his head. “If Father had only warned us of Mr. Tibury’s coming, he’d have received a better reception, I assure you.”

“Oh, but you can’t fault the Earl.”

“Of course not.” Jasper paused and nudged her arm so that she would face him. “You are looking especially lovely today. But then, you look especially lovely every day.”

“I think that is definitionally impossible.”

He moved closer. She stepped back. But there was a rose bush right behind her. With thorns. She flinched from it. He put his hand on her back as if to rescue her from the roses. And kissed her.

Her response was immediate. She slapped him furiously and shoved him away. It was the most horrible, the most humiliating, the most ruinous thing ever to happen to her. If she were not so angry, she would burst into tears.

With his hand on his cheek, which bore a reddened mark from her palm, he looked as mortified as she felt.

“I beg your pardon,” he said stiffly. He rubbed his cheek once, then dropped his hand. “I didn’t mean to take advantage. I thought a kiss would not be unwelcome.”

Well, obviously, he’d thought wrong! She didn’t need to reprimand him further. The slap had taken care of that. “We should rejoin the others.”

“All right.” He gestured for her to proceed. He followed. As they neared the main path, he offered her his arm and said, “Please?”

They could not storm back from a private meander crab-faced and at odds. It would make what had happened obvious to everyone. At least her slap mark had faded. Not gone, but it was not an obvious handprint. She hadn’t meant to hit him that hard. She took his arm.

“I am sorry,” he murmured.

“Yes,” she said, because she could not think of a suitable reply, but wanted him to know that she had heard.

Maybe that would be the end of it. Surely he would not ask for her now. Mama would be disappointed, but Georgiana would be relieved.

*

Reginald gritted his teeth and took his place at the table. Because tea had been substantial, dinner would be light and informal. Mother said she was remaining upstairs with Father. However, there were still eight at the table because Jeffrey had joined them. Adam would be supping with Jeremy. No one pointed out that that was odd.

Reginald would rather be anywhere but here. It seemed a preview of the rest of his life, sitting “below the salt,” with Jasper as head of the household and Georgiana at his side.

The garden walk had been bad enough. Reginald would have given his right arm to be the one leading Georgiana off alone to stroll along quiet paths. Jasper had acquired that right, somehow, over the course of a week, while the best Reginald could hope for was an hour or two squirreled away in the library with a pile of dusty ledgers forming a wall between them, door wide open. And even that was not strictly permissible.

No! It was not permissible at all! Involving Georgiana in the task Jasper had assigned to him , displaying the family’s crooked books—good God. What had he been thinking?

Thankfully, he had no opportunity to sulk and stare. He was seated beside Olivia, who had him on one side and Jeffrey on the other. The misadventure must have knocked sense into the boy, because he now was shy and embarrassed around her, rather than slavish and show-offy. Reginald thought it a sad state of affairs when the flow of light dinner conversation depended upon him. Even tasking himself with this, he could not rein in his too-frequent glances at Georgiana. She spoke more to Crispin than to Jasper, but that could be because Crispin, eating so little, talked so much. If Reginald didn’t know better, he would say Jasper was brooding, but Jasper didn’t brood.

After the last course was served and tasted, Jasper sent the ladies off, suggested Jeffrey go relieve Adam, and asked his brothers to join him in the study. When Reginald waved off a glass of brandy, Jasper did not pour himself one either. He sat glumly in his chair.

Crispin sat. Reginald followed suit.

“What’s wrong?” Crispin asked.

“What’s right?” Jasper replied.

“That bad? Has this sulk anything to do with the imprint your cheek acquired during your little detour?”

“Imprint?” Reginald asked. He hadn’t a clue what his brothers were saying.

“She slapped him.”

“Slapped him?”

“Stop echoing me!” Crispin laughed. “Yes, you dolt. Why do you think Jasper has been acting like a whipped dog since we left the garden?”

“What did you do?” Reginald demanded, whirling to face Jasper. He started to rise from his seat, but Crispin pressed a hand on his leg.

Jasper said, “It was stupid. I rushed things. She’s a lady, and painfully innocent, and I tried stealing a kiss.” He huffed. “You’d think I’d torn a button off her bodice.”

It took every ounce of reserve not to draw Jasper’s cork. Reginald didn’t trust himself to speak. He didn’t dare move, he was so furious.

Jasper said, “This is farcical. I’m not terrifying. She didn’t have to hit me.”

“Never been slapped before?” Crispin teased.

“Of course not.” He put his elbows on the desk, scowling, then said, “I wasn’t anticipating a slap this time.”

“Why did you rush?” Crispin asked. “It’s only been a week. Or were you overcome with longing?”

“Ballocks.” He shook his head. “The devil of it is, I think I’ve set this courtship back weeks. I’m going to have to walk on eggshells.”

“Again, Jasper, why the rush?” Crispin pressed. “You never—”

“And that’s the problem. I never. I acted as though I had all the time in the world. And now Father is dying.”

“Father is. But you are young and hale.”

“Did you not see Jeremy take that fall? My God. I thought he’d snapped his neck. That could be me.”

“You don’t ride like a bacon-brain.”

“My horse could step in a hole. I could fall down the stairs.”

“You could, but the odds are slim.”

“Crispin,” Jasper sounded impatient. “Who is my heir?”

Crispin’s face went slack. When he spoke again, his voice was weak. “I see.” Then he wrung out a wry smile and managed to inject a bit of his usual irony. “Well, then, it would be best if you were to acquire at least two sons before the year’s end. Because, in the event, I would immediately take a bullet and leave poor Reginald in charge.”

“You are both being absurd,” Reginald managed.

“Quite so,” Crispin agreed. “Jasper, you did not maul Georgiana in an effort to secure the succession.”

“I did not maul Georgiana full stop. I don’t believe I even kissed her. Her reflexes are faster than Gentleman Jack’s.”

Crispin laughed. “Good for her. Now, Jasper, be honest. Why are you going about this so ham-handedly? Could you not have waited…a month to court her back in London?”

“No, I could not. I didn’t want to risk her accepting someone else. I want her for my countess. She’s perfect.”

Reginald pressed his fists against his thighs. He couldn’t listen to this.

“Perfect as a countess?” Crispin pressed. “Or perfect as your wife?”

“Perfect full stop.”

“I can’t argue with you.” Crispin turned. “Reginald? Anything to say?”

God! He ground out, “You’ve made her your captive. She can’t accept anyone else.”

“Except she is not my captive. There is no set date for their departure. They might leave any day. And as yet, we have no firm understanding.”

“You have no understanding,” Crispin said. “I thought she was here as Olivia’s guest.”

Jasper stood and began to pace. “That was a flimsy pretext, and you know it. You and everyone else.” Then he returned to the desk, opened the top drawer, and pulled out a folder. He flipped it open to reveal a stack of letters. He picked up the first and closed the folder.

“From Hazard.” He handed it to Crispin. “Skip the hellos. It’s the second paragraph.”

Crispin glanced down, frowned, then read aloud:

‘ You know, my dear friend, that I am not known to gamble excessively, but I am not morally opposed to the practice. If I can beat the odds in a wager, I’m sure you agree it would be foolish not to seek advantage where I can.’

“What is he going on about?” Reginald grumbled.

Crispin continued, “Here is the crux:

‘ It is being said that the banns will be read before Christmas. Wagers at White’s are now running sixteen to one. If you would be so good to announce AFTER the holy day, I would be ever so grateful. Please respond quickly. If the odds go any higher, I will likely lay down a pony whether you reply or not. Keep that in mind. Give my love to Lady Georgiana. ’”

“What a blackguard!”

“Not at all,” Jasper said. “It is simply his way of letting me know where things stand. Georgiana and I are the talk of the ton. It isn’t so much a matter of why am I rushing, it’s what are we waiting for? We are going to be betrothed. We are going to marry. Taking baby steps is…” He sniffed. “Well, but if that is what Georgiana wants, of course, I’ll step slowly.”

And, of course, Reginald would step away.