Chapter Thirteen

J asper was a terrible moper. Meaning, he did it badly. He was not constitutionally suited to mope. His body would not sit still for it.

Instead, he went about his usual activities. And then, once an hour at least, with no warning, no trigger, he would be seized with an almost unbearable sadness. It spread over him like a wave of nausea. He would have to pause to let it work its way through. Vanessa was gone. Gone. And then it would pass. The feeling would harden away, shrink into a stone that would sink, sink inside him. He was cobbling his innards.

Maybe that was what hardened men. These types of stones. Then they were inured to any future love pains.

Jasper hadn’t the fortitude. He could not lie about and mope. Nor had he yet turned into stone. So, he’d spent the afternoon at Tattersalls. Buying carriage horses for Reg.

One had to love Reg, the silly arse. So determined to support himself and his wife on that—what did he call it? A stipend? Reg had been obligated to resign his Cambridge fellowship when he married—University regulations—but the don he worked with wanted him nevertheless and paid the salary out of his own pocket. Reg had Georgiana’s dowry, but it seemed he was reluctant to make use of it. Jasper told him he was welcome to keep his allowance, but Reg firmly said no. He was not Jasper’s dependent. Which was admirable, in its way.

But for pity’s sake. Reg was a Taverston. And his wife was a duke’s daughter. When Georgiana said she loved traipsing up and down the streets of Cambridge and didn’t mind riding the mail coach to London, Reg believed her. Jasper shook his head. He was not accusing Georgiana of lying, or feminine wiles, or not knowing her own head…well, lying maybe. She meant well. But the devil. He’d known Reg longer. His brilliance and obliviousness. Enough was enough.

There was a landau going to rust in the carriage house. Jasper insisted Reg take it. And to come spend the afternoon with him at Tattersalls. He used a wistful, lightly embarrassed smile that even Reg could not mistake for anything but a plea for company. Poor lonely Jasper.

And then, damned if he hadn’t enjoyed the experience. He knew horses. The one thing in the world he knew better than Reginald was horses.

He enjoyed it right up until the moment he had to pause, stop chattering, and let himself feel his loss all over again. Reg, bless him, rather aimlessly lifted and examined hooves, felt legs, inspected teeth, and said nothing until Jasper picked up the thread of the conversation where he’d dropped it.

A splendid day, given it all. He was arriving home with enough time to have a bite and change his clothes for the evening. When he would drag Hazard to White’s.

Hazard had spent five days letting bruises fade and swellings go down before returning to his own house. He had missed the closing day of Parliament, despite Jasper’s urging him to attend. One could not tell he had been beaten unless one looked hard, and men did not look at each other’s faces that closely. Usually. Hazard would not go. Hovington, in passing, grumbled that the Viscount was unreliable. Alice must be heartbroken if Hovington repeated that at home.

It was all in a piece with the new timidity Jasper was noticing in his friend. He’d caught him startling at sudden noises. Worse, his wit was off.

There was nothing for it but to cast Hazard into the ring and let him slug his way out. A horrible metaphor under the circumstances. But Jasper had no doubt that, when surrounded by lesser wits at White’s, who spouted their conservative opinions accompanied by brandy-scented spittle, Hazard would rally. He just needed a shove.

Jasper entered his home—Lud, his sepulchral castle—feeling just a tad full of himself. Vanessa would poke him in the arm and say a long “ pssshhhhh ,” to let the gas out.

Finley hurried to him, reaching for his walking stick.

“My lord. There is a Mr. Carroll waiting in the study.” His nose twitched. “I asked to take his card, but he said he would wait. Should I send him away?”

“Benjamin is here?” His spirits lifted higher.

“He said you sent for him, but—”

“I did. Months ago.” He’d offered his old friend the job of steward at Chaumbers. The ship Benjamin had said he would be on, from Canada, had put into harbor two weeks ago, but he wasn’t on it. No further word had come, and Jasper had gone from peeved to worried. “I’ll go straight up. Did you offer him anything?”

“No, my lord. He—” Whatever Finley had been about to say, he thought better of it. “Shall I bring brandy?”

“Yes.” No. He had White’s to get through. He couldn’t start drinking yet. “No. Coffee will do. Well, no, wait until I send for something.” God. He was practically giddy. How absurd of him. This was a man he was hiring . Nevertheless, he bounded up the stairs.

He flung open the door. Benjamin sat on one of the least comfortable chairs: uncushioned mahogany with a low back and no arms—they should burn that chair. He rose when Jasper entered the room. He bowed.

“My lord.”

Jasper stopped in his tracks. “Mr. Carroll. Thank you for coming.”

“Old Oxford chums” only carried men so far. Jasper could not stop his eyes from picking out details. Benjamin’s jacket needed pressing and there was a sheen of wear at the elbows. His boots appeared never to have seen a lick of polish. And there was an odor, a musty odor of sea and fish, that he must have carried from whatever ship he’d been on.

“Thank you for the offer of employment. I hope I am not too late.”

“No. Not at all.” Then something cracked inside him, and he said, “I simply assumed you were paying me back for all the times I failed to be punctual.”

In earlier days, he had left Benjamin waiting. A lot. Jasper did not grin often anymore, but he hadn’t forgotten how. Benjamin chewed his lip, then acknowledged the memory with a grin of his own. Jasper waved him into a chair.

“For God’s sake, not that one. Sit over there.” He took his own chair. He was a good deal taller than Benjamin and didn’t want to have this conversation standing. “I admit I was worried. Did you miss The Prince George ?”

“In a manner of speaking. I took the next ship I could find.”

Jasper nodded. “Well, the job is yours. I cannot think of anyone better. And yours was the first name on my brothers’ lips as well.”

Benjamin looked amused. “Well, maybe that partly explains…” He leaned forward in his chair. “I stopped at the post to see if they were holding anything there for me. There was nothing from you, but there was a package in brown paper, with two pristine-appearing ledgers filled with the tidiest figures I’d ever seen. Two years’ worth. And a note from Reg—” He caught himself—“Mr. Taverston, saying they were up to date through June. That if I had any questions…” He chuckled. “He gave me his direction in Cambridge .”

Jasper laughed. “Yes, well, Reg has not changed. I asked him to put things in order for you and he never does things halfway. Cambridge is another tale.”

He felt the sadness threaten and pushed it, pushed it away.

“I suppose we should do this properly. I’ll have Wilkerson draw up a contract for you to look over. Have you a salary in mind?”

“Just pay me what I am worth.”

“Very shrewd. All right, I will. You can bring your things here, of course. I’ll have a suite opened in the west wing until you go to Chaumbers.”

“If it’s all the same to you—” Benjamin’s eyes grew hooded—“I have let rooms for myself down near the Thames. I would like to acclimate myself back to London.” The words sounded rehearsed. But then, the whole thing was awkward. Benjamin used to be invited to 8 Grosvenor Square and to Chaumbers as a guest. Jasper supposed there was some acclimating, on both their parts, to be done.

“Yes, of course.”

“So, tell me about the Taverstons!” A clunky transition clumsily delivered.

“I don’t know where to start.”

“It sounds as though we could spend the day unraveling Mr. Taverston.” That was carefully done. Mr. Taverston. Jasper pushed back.

“Reg settled in Cambridge after a little private rebellion against the Church of England. He has gone back to the ancient gods,” he joked.

Benjamin’s eyes widened.

“That, of course, was after marrying my intended fiancée.”

Benjamin exploded with laughter. Then he tried to stand. “I’m going back to Canada. In my absence, England has gone mad.”

“Not all of it. Crispin is still Crispin. Only now he is Lieutenant Taverston of the King’s Army.”

“He had just purchased his commission when I left.” That sobered his mirth. Jasper’s too. “I assume he is doing well?”

“I think so. He doesn’t say much about his duties.”

Benjamin sobered further. He glanced away. “His health?”

Jasper shrugged. Benjamin had nursed Crispin through a short bout of illness at school, sworn to secrecy until Crispin recovered. Jasper would have lugged him back home again if he’d known. “He does not speak of that either. But he looked well when I last saw him.”

At that, Benjamin’s expression softened. “I’m sorry about the earl. I—he was always very good to me.”

Father was civil. He made a point of it.

“Thank you. It was difficult. Seeing his decline.”

“And your mother? Is she well?”

“She’s coping.” He sighed. “I think sons never truly understand how much of a mother’s life is simply coping.”

Benjamin eyed him strangely, and Jasper thought perhaps he was sharing too much. But he hadn’t said anything, really. Then Benjamin looked at his hands. “And your sister? I imagine her coming out was a triumph. Who did she wed?”

“Ah, Olivia. No, I’m afraid she has had the worst of it. My father’s illness was lengthy. She did not debut when she should have. And then, this year, too, she could not. She is in mourning. But next year…” He tried to chuckle. “I believe all the swains are holding their breaths waiting, and I will have to walk around with pistols.”

He waited for the jest. His pistols would frighten no one. But Benjamin did not look entertained. He looked stiff.

“Oh, God, Benjamin!” Was that why he would not take apartments in Jasper’s home? “She’s not carrying a torch for you.”

“No. Of course not.” The man’s face turned crimson.

“It has been years! She was a child. I know she embarrassed you, but—”

“Not embarrassed. It was flattering…in an embarrassing way. She is a force of nature, your sister. And I liked her. Who wouldn’t? I hated to hurt her.”

“Well, that is very noble. But she was a child. You needn’t punish yourself for a hurt she has long forgotten.”

Benjamin nodded. “All right then. Good. I know it’s foolish of me, but I am relieved.”

“Not foolish. Kind-hearted.” Jasper shook his head. Of all the idiotic… “We’ve covered the Taverstons. I want to hear all about your adventures.”

“Except for you,” Benjamin said. “I suppose the fact that your brother married your fiancé explains the lack of a countess?”

“In part.” He saw Benjamin’s curiosity. “That tale would require a full night to recount and a bottle of brandy a piece.”

“Not brandy.” The man snickered. “I smuggled back some whiskey from the American colonies.”

“We may not call them the colonies, I don’t think.” There was a war there too. Colonies they may be again. Though when he’d asked Crispin, he merely shook his head no . “Is it any good?”

“It will burn a hole down through your boots.”

But would it melt stone?

“Another night then. We’ll catch up on each other’s lives. If I had known of such a delightful prospect, I would not have made plans for this evening.” He could not invite Benjamin along to White’s. Unfortunately.

“No, tonight will not do.”

Jasper started to rise but saw something in his old friend’s face. A hesitation. He lowered himself back down. “I am horribly rude. I was taken aback by seeing you. I meant to send for coffee. And sandwiches. I have no idea how long you were waiting but I’m starving. I imagine you—”

“No, I cannot stay.” He cleared his throat rather decisively. “Iversley, I must make a clean breast of this before…well, before.” He looked strangled and pushed out the words. “I became rather embroiled…what I mean to say is there is a child. Not mine!” he added hurriedly, reddening. “But, well, yes mine. Lud. I practiced this, and now I’m muddling it.”

“Take your time.” He knew his tone had become icy, but what the devil was “mine but not mine” supposed to mean?

Benjamin’s voice shook. “I had a business partner. My judgment is usually sounder, but, well, that’s unimportant. We went to the interior. It seemed like an adventure, I suppose. He was accompanied by his wife and daughter. I will summarize: the couple died. It was tragic. For all I wished him to the devil by that point…well.” He drew a breath. “We were in the middle of no place I could pinpoint on a map.”

“We?”

“Myself and the child.” He swallowed hard. Jasper did too. Benjamin raised his eyes. “It was terrifying.”

Jasper nodded, terrified for him.

“The child…she became rather attached to me.”

What did one say to something like this?

“I would think so.”

“I managed to get back to Halifax. Her grandparents were there. I located them.”

He glossed over details in a way that Jasper, who thought he had done a good job glossing, could only marvel at. They would have to break out that whiskey one day soon.

“They wanted nothing to do with her. Their own grandchild. And I would be damned if I would force the girl on them.”

“You did the right thing. Unless, of course, you think they will come to regret—”

“Damn them if they do!” He made a visible effort to control himself. “I think it very unlikely.” He shrugged. “And they will never be able to find her.”

Jasper let out a long breath of his own. “Tell me what you need.”

“Employment. You cannot know… you can’t know. Your letter was like a gift from God.”

“If so, you cannot thank me. I needed a steward. What else?”

Benjamin ground his teeth. Then said, stiff with wounded dignity, “If you could provide me an advance.”

Jasper remembered his old friend’s pride had always been prickly. Benjamin was too aware of the fact that he was a commoner, mixing with gentlemen. He seemed to believe he was more tolerated than welcomed, when nothing was farther from the truth. How like the man to take in a waif—likely saving her life in the process—and yet be embarrassed to ask for help. It embarrassed Jasper to think how much it cost Benjamin to ask, when granting the request was of so little consequence.

Jasper rose, went to his desk, and pulled out a slip of paper. He scribbled a draft, saying, “Take this to Coutts.”

“Do I speak to anyone in particular?”

Jasper waved away the question. “No. There is no need. Anyone there will see to it.” Arrogant but true. “What else?”

“If I could have two days to settle in before I begin?”

“Two is enough?”

Benjamin nodded. Jasper did not press the issue. He knew this was hard. They used to be drinking friends. This was hard on Jasper too. He was bewildered on how to proceed.

“Her name is Hannah. She is but two.” Benjamin sounded bemused. And tender. “She has curls.”

Jasper nodded. “Thank you for telling me. I didn’t know how much I was permitted to ask. Where is she now?”

Benjamin stood “With my landlady.” He looked weary, but at the same time, unburdened. Lesser burdened. He waved the draft and then put it in his pocket. “Thank you, Iversley. The woman has been grand, considering, but it will relieve her, I suspect, to see me return with the ready.” He smiled weakly. “I don’t think she believed me when I said I had a job waiting with an earl.”

“Ha!” Jasper scratched his nose. There must be more he could do. “I’d like to meet Hannah. Will you bring her?”

“At some point. But I am not going to take advantage of your generosity. I know you’ll make it too easy to do so. She likes attention. I cannot work while dandling her on my knee. I’ll hire a nanny.”

“Have you someone in mind?”

He shook his head. “I disembarked this morning. But I imagine there is an agency.”

“Wait.” Jasper went back to his desk for another slip of paper. He wrote a direction. “Mrs. Lockwood.” He walked the slip to Benjamin. “Tell her I sent you. She’ll have a few names.”

Benjamin’s lips twitched. “And you know where to locate nannies because…?”

He sighed. “Because elderly ladies at tea parties like to corner me and chatter my ear off. Because I always listen as though I am interested. Because I am polite.”

“Yes, I recall that about you,” Benjamin said, suppressing a smile. “You are very polite.” Then the smile broke through. “This Mrs. Lockwood will be thrilled you thought of her. I will have half a dozen perfect candidates at the door before supper. My only difficulty will be choosing amongst them.” He gave Jasper’s arm a light punch. “ You are as annoying as ever.”

Jasper made his face stern. “Two days, Carroll. Two days and your arse better be parked behind a desk sorting my accounts.” Then, for good measure, he opened the door and said, “George, have Finley see Mr. Carroll out.” He added sotto voce, “Bring the whiskey when you come.”

When the door shut, he regrouped. Hazard next.

But first, he had to sit down. Duty…friends…they were not distraction enough. The ache was still there.