Chapter 18

CHAPTER 18

“Sophia? What do you think you’re doing? What’s the meaning of this?” Ethan shouted, advancing on them, his face red with anger.

Jasper rose to his feet, not willing to be spoken to in such angry terms by Sophia’s cousin, and now he faced the Earl defiantly.

“I’d ask you the same question, Ethan,” he said as Ethan glared at him.

“Henry’s just come inside, his face red and swollen. You hit him!” Ethan exclaimed, his tone indignant, and Jasper smiled and shrugged.

“He deserved it,” he said, and Ethan stared at him in astonishment.

“What do you mean?” he demanded, and Jasper glanced at Sophia, who had also risen to her feet with a defiant look on her face.

“He forced himself on me, Ethan – or would you prefer to believe whatever lies Henry told you about my conduct?” she asked.

Ethan looked from one to the other in confusion.

“You spurned him, after everything I’ve done for you…” he hissed, clenching his fists angrily.

“Spurned him? No, I don’t think so. He’s the one who’s been playing games. I spurned him for a reason – he tried to create a scandal. And he’s dragged your name into it, too,” Sophia replied.

Jasper admired the way Sophia now stood up to her cousin. But everything she said was true. Henry had lied about Ethan, too, though Jasper felt certain that the Earl did mean to profit from any match that might be made. But as for it being a matter of collusion, a well-thought-out plan to defraud, Jasper was not convinced. Ethan simply did not have the intelligence for it, and he felt guilty for even imagining Sophia might have had a part to play, too.

Ethan’s anger now turned to surprise. “What do you mean?” he asked, glancing at Jasper, who nodded.

“Oh, yes, Ethan. Do you know why I broke off my courtship with Sophia?” he asked, and Ethan shook his head.

“No…” he said, and Jasper smiled.

“Because I wrongly believed – thanks to my cousin – that you and Sophia were conspiring to defraud me. I know it’s not the case for Sophia, and I’m certain it’s not the case for you either, is it?” he asked.

He left the question hanging, allowing the implication of his words to sink in.

Ethan shook his head. “No… not at all, Your Grace. Not for a moment. I can hardly believe… it’s too dreadful for words. All I wanted was what’s best for Sophia,” he replied.

Jasper smiled. He knew the Earl wanted nothing of the kind, but marriage to a duke would always be preferable to marriage to a viscount – particularly a viscount like Henry, for whom there was little else but a vague title and the promise of distant family wealth to entice any would-be suitor.

“I’m sure you did. And perhaps now you can see why allowing Henry to pursue the match would’ve been so… detrimental,” Jasper said, and Ethan nodded.

“I certainly do, yes. And don’t worry, Your Grace, I won’t pursue the matter. Henry and I were merely acquaintances. I owe him nothing, and he owes me nothing either. The arrangement was merely practical. A matter of business, that’s all,” he said, glancing at Sophia, who nodded.

“That’s very good of you, Cousin. I know you had your heart set on my marrying Henry, but I’m sure you can see why I simply have to break it off now,” she said, and Ethan nodded.

“I do, yes – absolutely, I do. There’s no question of it. And if he really has behaved in such a scandalous manner, I couldn’t possibly…” he said, glancing again at Jasper, who knew he would have to make some small concession to the Earl.

“The matter of the cotton mills still stands – our previous arrangement. You, myself, and Peter. Obviously, I won’t allow my cousin any share in our profits. I’ll simply have to cut him out,” he said.

In Henry’s case, blood was not thicker than water. Despite their being cousins, Jasper had no sense of loyalty towards Henry. He had crossed a line, and the matter was no longer simply that of love rivals. In treating Sophia the way he had, Henry had proved his true colors. He was nothing but an arrogant rake, the sort of man who treated women as objects to be possessed, rather than companions to be loved.

“Ah, yes… well, I wouldn’t want anything to get in the way of business,” Ethan said.

His words confirmed what Jasper already thought of him. But for Sophia’s sake, he was willing to put up with Ethan – at least at arm’s length. There were certain investments they could make together, nothing of any great risk – investments both would benefit from if made shrewdly.

“Absolutely not, Ethan. Then I have your permission to court your cousin?” Jasper asked, more out of pity than need for permission and Ethan nodded.

“Absolutely, you do. I wouldn’t hear of anything else. And as for Henry… consider the matter settled,” Ethan said, and he gave a gracious bow.

Jasper smiled. Ethan had behaved just as he had hoped – offered a better proposition, he was quick to shake off the previous one. Just as he had swiftly changed allegiance when the prospect of a split between Jasper and Sophia had appeared imminent.

“You’re kind, Ethan. It’s a pleasure doing business with you,” Jasper said, knowing he was flattering the Earl, who blushed.

“Ah, well… I’ve always wanted what’s best for my cousin. Haven’t I, Sophia?” Ethan asked, and Sophia smiled.

“I’m sure you have, Ethan,” she said.

Further pleasantries were exchanged, before the Earl returned inside, leaving Jasper and Sophia alone. She smiled at him and shook her head.

“A vain thing fondly imagined – or something like that,” Jasper said, and Sophia laughed.

“Sold to the highest bidder,” she replied.

Jasper slipped his hand into hers and drew close to her. She was so very pretty, her eyes wide and shining, her lips so soft…

“I hope that’s not what you think,” he said, but Sophia shook her head.

“No. I don’t think it. I know you don’t think of me like that,” she said.

Jasper raised his hand, brushing her hair back from her cheek, and now he leaned forward and kissed her, the scent of her perfume mixing with the scent of the roses around them.

“There’s something I want to say to you, Sophia. I know it might be too soon. You might run away from me when I say it, but I don’t know how else to describe it. I can’t help but feel it, though I’ve never felt it before,” he said, gazing down at her and smiling.

“What is it?” she asked, looking up at him curiously.

They had known one another for just a few weeks – barely that – and yet Sophia was so different from other women, and the way she made Jasper feel was so different from the way he had ever felt about anyone else before. As for when the time was right, there surely was no right time, and now he took a deep breath, smiling at her as he leaned down to whisper in her ear.

“I love you, Sophia,” he said, and he kissed her again on the cheek.

Drawing back, he looked down at her, and she smiled up at him, taking both his hands in hers and raising them to her lips.

“And I love you, too,” she replied.

Jasper breathed a sigh of relief. He had not known what she would say in response. It had seemed like madness at first – to tell her he loved her when he did not even know what it meant to be in love, or so he had so often told himself over the past few days.

But being in love was not something to be learned, but to be recognized. It was not something one acquired like a piece of property. It was a treasure to be found. But to raise it up, to make something more of it, to give it meaning, that required something more. It required another person to feel the same, and how relieved Jasper was to know Sophia was the one to feel that same way.

“You don’t know how happy it makes me to hear you say that,” he said, and Sophia smiled.

“As happy as it makes me to hear it, too, I should think,” she said, and slipping her arms around him, she rested her head on his chest.

Jasper did not know what the future held. They had their whole lives ahead of them. It was an adventure just beginning, and he could not wait to begin living that adventure alongside her…

“I think the Duke was very gracious, all things considered,” Ethan said as he, Sophia, and Sophia’s mother drove home in the carriage that evening.

“Is that so?” Sophia said, raising her eyebrows, though she was not about to argue.

For the first time in a long time, Sophia felt happy. Or rather she was caught up in that same happiness she had felt in those fleeting moments when the apparent ruse had felt like something more. Now, there was no question of her feeling so. The ruse was over, and the truth was known. Jasper had made clear his feelings for her, and the misunderstandings caused by Henry had been cast aside. By the time Sophia and Jasper had returned inside from the gardens, Henry had gone, and Sophia did not expect to hear anything more from him, except perhaps some mischief or other concerning the apparent scandal in the gardens that evening. But Sophia had no care for such things. She could think of nothing but Jasper, and how happy he made her.

“The two of you were made for one another. Don’t you think so, Caroline?” Ethan said, addressing Sophia’s mother.

The Dowager Countess looked up and nodded, smiling at Sophia, who was glad to think her mother approved of the match, even if only because of Ethan’s agreement.

“Oh, yes, I think so, Ethan. If you’re happy, I’m happy,” she said, and Sophia smiled back at her.

“You and Emily can see one another often, can’t you?” she said, and her mother nodded.

“Oh, yes, it’ll be delightful. I’ll write to her tomorrow. It would be good if the two of you spent more time together. Perhaps we could go and stay at Weston House?” she said, and Sophia nodded, her face lighting up at the prospect of seeing Ethan again so soon.

The thought of returning to Weston House filled her with delight – the chance to see Jasper and Penelope again, the chance for her and the Duke to get to know one another better. He had promised to see her soon, to remain in London for the rest of the Season. But Sophia had no care or interest in balls and soirees, in being a topic of conversation for chattering women, whispering behind their fans. The thought of Weston House, and the countryside surrounding it, of long walks in Jasper’s company, of painting excursions like the one they had enjoyed before…

“Oh, could we, Mother? I’d adore that!” she exclaimed, and her mother smiled.

“I’ll write to Emily tomorrow. I’m sure we can make the arrangements soon enough,” she said, and the matter was decided.

In the coming days, Sophia could think of little else but the prospect of returning to Weston House and seeing Jasper again. She wrote to him, telling him the good news, and her mother did the same, asking if the two of them might visit at their earliest convenience. Sophia eagerly awaited Jasper’s response, but when three days had passed, and no letter had arrived, she began to wonder if any response would be forthcoming.

“Why doesn’t he write back to me, Spencer?” she asked, lying on her bed with a dejected expression on her face.

The maid looked at her sympathetically and smiled. “It’s only been three days, My Lady. A letter can take a week or more to reach the other side of London, let alone out into the countryside,” she said, shaking her head.

But Sophia was impatient, and she feared the possibility of another rejection – despite everything Jasper had said to the contrary. She had heard nothing from Henry, either – for which she was glad – and Ethan had made no mention of any alternative to the match now proposed.

“I think I’ll go downstairs and check again,” she said, having done so already a dozen times that morning, driving the butler and other servants to distraction in doing so.

Spencer smiled and shook her head. “Oh, to be in love, My Lady. You’re very fortunate,” she said, and Sophia smiled, though she wished there was something more tangible about the arrangement than a vague promise.

Jasper had assured her he would call on her soon, but so far he had not called, and her fears were growing stronger by the moment. She was terrified of rejection, believing it was still possible Jasper would change his mind.

“Nothing yet, My Lady,” the butler said, preempting Sophia’s inquiry.

She sighed, turning to cross the hall to the drawing room, when a sudden, loud knock sounded at the door. It startled her – and the butler – who tutted and hurried to open it, just as Sophia’s mother emerged from the drawing room to see what was going on.

“What’s all this noise?” she demanded, but as the butler opened the door, Sophia gave a cry of delight.

There, standing on the steps, accompanied by Ethan, was Jasper.

He grinned at Sophia, stepping over the threshold and offering her his hand.

“Are you ready for a little excitement, Sophia?” he asked, and Sophia stared at him in astonishment.

“Oh… but… I thought… I haven’t heard from you…” she said, confused by his sudden appearance.

“Ah, well, that’s my fault, you see. I suggested it might be fun to arrange a little outing for you, Sophia – for the two of you. A surprise, if you like,” Ethan said, and Sophia looked at her cousin curiously.

It was not like Ethan to be so thoughtful, but Jasper now nodded, stepping aside and pointing out of the open door to where a carriage stood, gleaming in the morning sunshine.

“We’re going on a picnic, and you’re going to paint to your heart’s content. And when we return, we’re all to make the journey to Weston House and spend the coming days together,” he said.

Sophia let out a cry of delight. It was the perfect day for a picnic, and the thought of sharing it with Jasper, of enjoying the sunshine together and painting a pretty country scene was enough to dispel all her doubts from the past few days.

“Oh, but you should’ve written to me. You don’t know how worried I’ve been!” Sophia exclaimed, chastising him as she hurried to put on her bonnet, her mother calling for Spencer to bring a shawl and then begin packing for their journey.

“Really, Ethan, you might’ve told me. Is Emily even expecting us?” Sophia’s mother asked.

“Yes, it’s all arranged. She’s very much looking forward to seeing you. But… if I might… the picnic… just you and I?” Jasper said, turning to Sophia, who nodded.

“Please, Mother, won’t you let me go unchaperoned?” Sophia asked, but her mother looked doubtful.

“I’m not sure…” she said, deferring to Ethan, who, to Sophia’s astonishment, nodded.

“You can go, yes. I was a fool to trust Henry with you – he’d have dragged you into scandal. But Jasper’s different. I trust him implicitly, particularly given the deal we’ve just wrapped up. But don’t be late, we want to get to Weston House before nightfall,” he said, and Sophia nodded, hardly daring to believe her good fortune.

Jasper now took her by the hand, smiling from ear to ear as he led her down the steps to the waiting carriage. Two liveried footmen were waiting on either side of the compartment door, and Jasper helped Sophia into the plush, velvet interior.

“To the river, driver. Find us the perfect place for a picnic,” Jasper called out as he climbed in beside Sophia, slipping his arm around her as the compartment door was closed.

“I wish you’d written to me. I was so worried. I thought… well, it doesn’t matter now, I suppose,” Sophia said, and Jasper slipped his hand into hers and squeezed it.

“There was a reason, and not only because of what Ethan said about business. I paid Henry off. He was threatening you. It’s all over now,” he said as Sophia’s eyes grew wide with horror.

“How awful… no… What did he say? What was he going to do?” she asked, but Jasper shook his head.

“It doesn’t matter now. He’s realized the error of his ways. He was going to make a show of his wickedness in the garden – besmirch your name and mine. But we’ve come to an agreement. Besides, his threats were idle. They’d have ruined him far more than you. But I wanted to be able to tell you so, and not to have you fear something worse. I don’t want you to fear anything – or to think you and I are anything but what we should be. Together,” he said.

Sophia nodded. She felt terrible at the thought of what Henry had threatened to do, but Jasper’s reassurances were enough to assuage her fears, and now she understood why he had neither written to her nor visited. If any further proof was needed as to the truth of his feelings for her, this was it, and Sophia felt as though a great burden had been lifted off her shoulders.

“You mean… I don’t have to worry any longer? About anything?” she asked, and Jasper nodded.

“Not about Henry, or Ethan, or your mother. All you need to worry about is your own happiness, Sophia – and ours,” he replied, and he leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek.

“Does Ethan know about what Henry threatened? Does my mother know?” Sophia asked, but Jasper shook his head.

“None of it matters now. It’s over. Henry won’t trouble us again, I promise,” he replied, and Sophia breathed a deep sigh of relief.

They drove in the carriage for an hour or so, arriving eventually at a spot by the river, where the branches of weeping willows cast dappled shadows on the banks, and the waters meandered gently downstream. It was the perfect place for a picnic, and the footmen carried the basket to the water’s edge and set up Sophia’s easel for her beneath the shade of one of the trees.

The sun was warm, the sky a deep blue, with wisps of cloud drifting lazily above. Jasper sat down on the river bank, and Sophia took her place at the easel, setting up a canvas to paint.

“What a beautiful scene,” she said, feeling inspired to paint.

Across the river, cornfields swayed gently in the breeze, and low-lying hills, their tops covered with the greenery of trees, disappeared into the shimmering horizon.

“Paint me,” Jasper said, and Sophia looked at him in surprise.

“But I… I usually only paint landscapes,” she said, for she had never before had a subject – a sitter – to paint.

He smiled at her, rising from his place on the riverbank and coming to her side by the easel. He brought his face down to her level, slipping his arm around her and kissing her on the cheek.

“Aren’t I a pretty picture?” he asked, and she laughed.

“Oh… yes, but… it’s very different to paint a person than it is to paint a landscape. You’ll have to sit perfectly still, do you understand?” she said, adopting a stern tone with him, even as she was finding it hard not to laugh.

“Oh, I’ll take it very seriously,” he said, straightening himself up.

“And you won’t be able to move for at least an hour – not until I’ve sketched you,” Sophia said.

She was warming to the challenge, even though she felt inadequate to the task. Penelope was such a better painter than her, and her own efforts were that of a keen amateur, rather than an accomplished painter. But to paint him was – she had to admit – a chance to deepen the intimacy between them. For him to sit, and her to paint, was the opportunity for them to know one another better, and Sophia was certainly willing to try, even if she was not convinced she would succeed.

“I’ll sit perfectly still – unless you make me laugh, that is,” he said, and Sophia blushed.

“I’ll be the consummate professional,” she replied, taking up a piece of fine charcoal to begin the sketch.

He returned to his place on the riverbank, sitting by the flowing waters, his back straight, his chin up in the air, and his demeanor that of the formal portraits she had seen at Weston House – those of his various ancestors, long since dead.

“Like this?” he asked, but Sophia shook her head.

“No, you’re too stiff. Why not… lie down,” she said, and he laughed, lying flat on his back, rigid as though in a coffin.

Sophia rolled her eyes.

“No, I meant… lie more… casually,” she replied, even as she knew it was hardly the done thing.

He changed position several times, until he appeared more casual, resting his head on his hand, his arm bent, his legs crossed. Sophia nodded.

“You see, I am taking it seriously,” he said, and Sophia laughed.

“Yes… very seriously. Now, just stay like that. And don’t move,” she said, beginning to sketch.

There was a mischievous side to him, one she had not entirely appreciated at Weston House, but which was now coming to the fore. It was a side she liked, even though she could imagine him becoming somewhat exasperating if unchecked. This mischievous side was played out every time she glanced around the side of the canvas, finding him ever so slightly different from the last time she had looked – a switching of the legs, a frown instead of a smile, an eye closed…

“How am I looking?” he asked, after some time had elapsed.

Sophia looked at her canvas and shook her head. She was not happy with the sketch as it was. She had not captured his features – or so she thought. He did not look right. The figure on the canvas was not Jasper. It could have been anyone, and Sophia sighed, disappointed with herself for not having captured the subject in front of her.

“I… I’m not sure,” she said, and before she could tell him not to, he had scrambled to his feet and come over to look at the canvas, tilting his head and nodding.

“It’s very good,” he said, but Sophia shook her head.

“You’re just saying that. I don’t think it’s very good. It doesn’t really look like you,” she said.

The sketch was only rough. She had not even added any color to it yet, even as she felt certain she would discard it. But now, Jasper took her hand – still holding the piece of charcoal – in his and raised it to the canvas.

“What are you doing?” she asked, a shiver running through her at his touch, and remembering how he had done just the same when she was struggling during the painting expedition with the rest of the house party.

“I’m guiding you, that’s all,” he said, and Sophia allowed her hand to be guided, just as he said.

The effect was remarkable. Slowly, little by little, Jasper himself emerged on the canvas. There was no doubting the likeness now. He was staring back at her, a vision in charcoal, and as he withdrew her hand, she looked up at him and smiled.

“It’s… astonishing,” she said, and he shrugged.

“It was all in your hand, Sophia. Now, shall we have something to eat? I’m so hungry,” he said.

Sophia set down the charcoal, still staring at the image of Jasper before her, but now he led her to where the footmen had laid out the picnic on a low table by the water’s edge, a large cloth spread out for them to sit on, and cushions on which to perch. The food looked delicious – cold meats, cheeses, fruit, a raised pie, a loaf of bread with butter, jam tarts, and other dainty treats, both sweet and savory.

“This is wonderful,” Sophia exclaimed, seating herself on a cushion as Jasper poured her a glass of wine.

“I’m glad you like it. I’ve always enjoyed picnics – we’ll have so many picnics in the future, I’m sure,” he replied, raising his glass to her.

Sophia liked to hear him speak about the future. He was right, they had so much to look forward to, and the prospect of sharing those things with Jasper filled her with delight.

“It’s all been… so sudden, hasn’t it? You and I,” she said, for it had only been a matter of weeks since she arrived at Weston House, confronted by a man she had thought entirely arrogant and self-centered.

But if Sophia had learned one thing, it was not to judge a book by its cover – to avoid first impressions. Jasper’s true colors now shone forth. She had never met a man like him, and now, Sophia could think only of the future ahead of them – a future she hoped would be as happy as this moment they now shared.

“But I don’t think it matters. I know some people might say… well… these things take time. But I think they can take one by surprise, too. Don’t you?” he said, and Sophia nodded.

She knew what others said. She had heard it so often amongst her acquaintances. An introduction made, a period of flirtation and dalliance, the question of does he, or doesn’t he? There were rituals attached to these sorts of things – the long drawn-out waiting game. Parents would advise, or downright refuse. The formality of courtship was proposed and accepted, or declined. Only then did the question of marriage arise. But this had been different. It had all been so different…

“I do, yes. When I came to you that night, in your study… well, I wasn’t thinking of anything else but extracting myself from Ethan’s promise. I didn’t want to marry Henry. I couldn’t bear the thought of it, and the only way I could think of to prevent it was by having someone else to marry – in a manner of speaking. You were the only man… though I did think about asking Peter,” she said, and Jasper laughed.

“Did you, really? You’d have called his bluff over Penelope. I wish the two of them would just get on with what they have to do,” he said, shaking his head.

Sophia laughed.

“Penelope deserves to be happy, and so does Peter. So do we,” she said, and Jasper nodded, reaching across to take her hand in his.

A shiver ran through her at his touch – just as it always did. He made her feel like no other man had ever made her feel, and in Sophia’s mind, there could be no question of a long, drawn-out courtship. She knew how she felt, and she knew she would feel the same in a week, in a month, in a year – for the rest of her life. These feelings were certain, even as they were new and unfamiliar.

“We do,” she said, and now he raised her hand to his lips, smiling at her as he did so.

Sophia’s heart skipped a beat, and she blushed, hoping as to what he was to say next.

“Then why wait? We don’t need to dally – picnics by the river, walks in the countryside, even trips to the theater and dancing at balls. It’s all very nice, but why do these things under constant scrutiny and question, when we could do them as man and wife?” he said.

Sophia smiled, nodding, as now he rose to his feet, still holding her hand in his. Sophia rose, too, and now Jasper dropped to his knees, gazing up at her with a look of hopeful longing.

“Why wait?” she said as tears welled up in her eyes.

She was overcome by emotion – by the thought of what might have been but now was. It was an indescribable happiness.

“Then… will you marry me, Sophia? I can’t imagine my life without you now. I love you. And I know others might…” he began, but Sophia interrupted him.

“Why care about what others say? It’s you and I who matter – it’s what we say. And I say… yes,” she said, and a look of the utmost relief came over his face.

He rose to his feet, throwing his arms around her and kissing her on the cheek.

“Oh, Sophia. You don’t know how happy I am to hear you say those words – to know you feel the same for me as I do for you. I couldn’t wait, not another moment. And why should we have to?” he said, taking her hands in his and raising them to his lips.

Sophia was overwhelmed with happiness and the thought of spending the rest of her life with him. Every burden she had borne, every sorrow she had endured, every fear she had been weighed down by was now gone. It was as though she was soaring, like the birds in the sky. Truly, there could be no greater happiness than this.

“We don’t have to wait. We can go back and tell them now, can’t we?” she said, imagining the look on Ethan’s face – on her mother’s face.

Jasper nodded. “Immediately. And we can make the arrangements at Weston House. My mother and sister already had it all planned. There’s a beautiful church on the estate, tucked away in a little dell by a brook, surrounded by trees. It’s not very big, but I don’t want lots of people there. I just want you,” he said, and slipping his arm around her, he drew her into his embrace, kissing her, as the two of them rejoiced in the joy they had found.