Chapter Sixteen

I n the music room down the hall from where Jasper and Hazard were meeting, Vanessa played a mournful sonata much too loudly.

What a strange day. What a very strange day.

“Ouch! What did that pianoforte ever do to you?”

She looked over her shoulder to find Hazard slouched in the doorway.

“I am attempting not to eavesdrop.” She let the music soften appropriately.

After a moment, he said, “That’s very pretty.”

“Thank you.” She kept an eye on him, glancing back and forth. It was not a difficult piece and it felt rude to turn away completely.

“Jasper did say you were welcome to stay,” he pointed out.

“Jasper may permit me into his confidences, but whatever you came to say might have been yours. He put you in an awkward position.”

A smile brightened his face and he straightened from his slouch. “How remarkable! My dear, we do not do discretion here in the ton.”

She brought Pleyel’s Adagio to a premature close and turned.

“Is he all right?”

Hazard shrugged. “ He is. How well do you know Crispin?”

“Lieutenant Taverston? Not well at all.”

“Yet from the little I have pieced together, he saved you at Corunna.”

“Yes, and I used to wonder why. What made me special. But I have started to suspect that I am not. I think rather in those final desperate days, Lieutenant Taverston ran around saving everyone that he could. It is simply that my story is the only one that I know.”

“A fascinating theory. And very likely correct. And now you may be irked that having saved you, he feels he is entitled to a say in how your salvation turns out.”

“That is also a fascinating theory. And possibly correct. I’m finding it difficult to be irked and grateful at the same time.”

“And that, I would wager, answers your question: How is Jasper? Irked and grateful. Maybe toss in guilty too.”

Guilt came too close to shame. Which they were not permitted to feel.

“So may I assume you brought Jasper more word from Lieutenant Taverston?”

She gestured to a chair, so as not to leave him standing in the doorway, but he shook his head.

“Do you suppose you might call him Crispin? Every time you say Lieutenant Taverston, I have to pause a moment and think who you mean.”

Vanessa stifled her laugh. “I hear his name so often I fear if he were to appear I would call him Crispin to his face.”

“Are you afraid of committing a faux pas ?”

“Yes, very.”

“Well, you are doing very well. The earl was impressed. As am I. And I am much harder to impress.”

“Why you are so nice to me?”

“I don’t know.” He reached into his waistcoat for a snuffbox. “I suppose there are some people it is impossible to be mean to.” He sniffed. Then sneezed. Then he dabbed beneath his nose with a handkerchief. “Or maybe I am fascinated by the saga of the Taverstons and your recent entry into the tale has me agog.”

“So back to the tale. You did bring more word from Crispin.”

“Yes. But I don’t know what the word is. It was a letter that I left with Jasper.”

She sighed. Frustrated. She supposed Jasper would show her the letter, but she was wearying of their brotherly chest-thumping. “Explain” in all capital letters. Good Lord.

“I hope that doesn’t mean he’ll take another three hours agonizing over his response.”

“Vain hope. It must, of course, be composed just so.”

“I think,” she said grumpily, “he should simply not respond.”

“The cut direct? Via correspondence?” He chuckled. “You are worthy of a spot at the Taverston gaming table. You must, of course, meet Reginald next. He’s the sanest of the lot.”

“Sanest? Jasper portrays him as some sort of maniacal genius.”

“He is. But still. The sanest of the lot.” Hazard paused as though considering whether to go on. “He is off at school now. Which is fortunate for him. When those two truly go at it, Reg steps into the breach as peacemaker and often catches the brunt.”

She regarded him a moment. In all of Jasper’s wide acquaintance, there was an inner circle, and Hazard was clearly in it. But how did he fit? Was he an impartial observer or something more?

“How long have you known them? The Taverstons?”

“Oh, for years and years. I am like the older older brother they never had.” He drummed his fingers against the doorframe. “He adores you, you know.” He looked away. “Well, I am off. People to see.”

*

Vanessa crept into the drawing room to see if she could help.

“Can I bring you anything, Jasper? Something to eat or—” She sniffed. “What is burning?”

“Nothing,” he said. Too quickly. And the look on his face—like she’d caught him pinching a maid.

She narrowed her eyes. “Hazard stopped to say his goodbyes. He told me he’d brought you another missive from Crispin.”

“Did he?” He snapped the words.

“I meant to say Lieutenant Taverston,” she said, flustered by his ill grace. “Hazard complained it baffled him when I called him that. But I will not—”

“Don’t be silly.” He laughed. Or tried to. “I don’t care what you call him.”

She’d never seen Jasper so nervous. He shouldn’t let his brother rattle him so.

“What does he say now?” She held out her hand for the letter, though, curiously, she didn’t see one in his possession.

“Just more of the same.” His eyes skittered away from hers.

Jasper was—oh! He was lying to her! And she definitely smelled something burning.

“Did you…Jasper, how childish!”

He started.

“You burned Crispin’s letter!” She could hear her own voice rising with disbelief as she cast about for the source of the odor. The bin was overflowing with crumpled paper. The hearth was cold. She spotted the lamp. The grimed globe. An appalled laugh burst from her mouth. “In the lamp, Jasper? Really? In the lamp?”

“Well,” he said, pulling at his earlobe, “I-I was angry. He can be irritating.”

“You two are ridiculous. What did he say—that made you angry enough to burn his letter?”

His jaw was working. He didn’t want to tell her. Oh, this was too much.

“Then don’t tell me, Jasper. I won’t command you to explain .”

“He sent the notice into the Post ,” Jasper blurted. “It was him.”

She stared. “Crispin did?” That was hurtful. It was a hurtful thing to do.

“Yes, well, but then he regretted it. He apologized. Of course, I was furious, apology or no. And, yes, it was childish to burn the letter, but…” He ran out of excuses.

“But you didn’t want me to see it.” Now he was even trying to shield her from Crispin. Or maybe protect Crispin. Maybe he didn’t want her to see how malicious his brother could be.

He gave a small, tight nod. “You shouldn’t be caught in the middle of our squabbles.”

“You’re squabbling about me. That is somewhat more than being caught in the middle.”

“But we have stopped. That is, I’m pretty sure we’ve stopped. We were both angry. We are both contrite. That’s how these things usually end.”

Wouldn’t that be lovely.

“I hope so. Because I’m tired. It is so much effort, Jasper. And now to see the two of you at each other’s throats. I can’t bear it.” She saw concern flash across his face. “I’m not saying I regret it. I’m not saying that I wish anything different. Except…except this constantly being made to feel in the wrong.”

He stood and came to her, then put his arms around her. She breathed in starch and soap, a hint of brandy, the wool of his jacket. Comfort. Security. Even when she was angry with him, he made her feel safe.

“The wrong was done to you, not by you.” He kissed her temple. “It will get better, Vanessa. I promise it will.”

*

To her relief, Jasper had no gauntlet planned for that evening. Instead, he listened to her play the pianoforte, then they supped at home. After, he challenged her to play cards. Piquet. After losing twice, she offered to teach him Commerce.

“What is that?”

“A betting game. The soldiers played it. Henry taught it to me.”

“What did you wager?”

“Pebbles. Don’t scoff. It passed time.”

“Show me.”

She explained the rules and they played a few hands. He caught on so quickly, she guessed he had played it before.

“I take it gentlemen play this as well,” she said, a little sourly. She had wanted to share something with him. Something new to him.

He chuckled. “I suppose I cannot sharp you.” He picked up the deck and shuffled. “But let’s try something different. The wagering. Let us bet articles of clothing.”

“Clothing?”

“That we are wearing.”

Her eyes widened as she caught his meaning. “Certainly not.”

He laughed. “Kisses then. On the hands are worth one, lips five, and then…”

“Oh, for Heaven’s sake.” Oh, but she lived for that look in his eyes. A little shiver ran down her neck. “Deal the cards.”

*

They might as well have played for clothing. The outcome was the same. She slept heavily that night and missed his leaving in the morning. But he was back just after her luncheon.

“You’re back early,” she said, as he joined her at the small tea table in the drawing room. “Would you like something to eat?”

He plucked the end of her sandwich from her plate and popped it into his mouth. “No. I ran into Evershard, and we went to a pub.”

“That’s a new name.”

“Is it?” He shrugged. “He’s a good fellow. Quiet though. Haven’t seen him much since he got leg shackled. I hadn’t meant to be gone this long. I just needed to walk about. Restless, I suppose.”

“Yes, well, tonight is the big night. Hilyer’s comeuppance.”

Jasper’s face tightened. Then relaxed. He reached across the table and squeezed her hand. “I have something for you.” She waited. He produced a slender box from his jacket pocket. Wilson and Clark . His preferred jewelers. “I am eager to see you in this.”

She opened the box. An exquisite and very long string of pearls. “Oh, Jasper. You really shouldn’t.”

“You know,” he said, his voice dropping low, “the glimpses that you allow me are tantalizing. And it is arousing, shifting bits of cloth out of the way. But the image I have in my head of you wearing these…just these…”

“Jasper!” Her face heated.

“Well, it hardly seems fair,” he exclaimed, laughing. “I let you look as much as you want.”

“Oh, my word.” She turned her head. Mortified. But she laughed too. Of course, he had noticed her staring.

“Vanessa.”

“No, don’t talk to me.”

“Look at me.”

“No.” She laughed, putting her hands over her eyes. “I don’t think I will ever look at you again.”

“Ha!” He shifted his chair to draw closer. “Just a peek. I’ll loosen my neckcloth.”

“Jasper!”

He pulled her hands away. He was smiling, but gently, and his eyes were more worried than playful. “I need to talk to you. Seriously. About tonight.”

“You want me to wear the pearls,” she guessed. “To celebrate.” But she knew, even as she teased him, that it was not that.

“I want you to do something difficult. Hear me out. Before you say no.”

Her own laughter faded. More difficult than what they had been doing? “Go on.”

He leaned his elbows on the table. His forehead creased. “I may have underestimated Hilyer. His wrath. I’ve been wracking my brains for where to hide you.”

“Hide me! Jasper, how ridiculous. You can’t think he will come here.”

“I don’t know.” He settled back. “He will be…insulted. I’ve never purposely insulted anyone before. He may react badly.”

“ May react badly?” She scoffed. “I thought that was the point.” She’d thought it foolish. Now he was realizing it when it was probably too late to turn back. “He isn’t going to come here. What are you picturing? That he will snatch me out of your home and carry me off to his lair? Or maybe tie me up and hold a pistol to my head until you return so he can taunt you?”

“Of course not.” He said it sheepishly, as though he had been considering things equally outlandish.

“That doesn’t happen in real life, Jasper. You aren’t pirates or highwaymen. He’s an old goat and you are a snob. All you are going to do is snub him. Grandly, yes. Theatrically. You will humiliate him so badly he will run off to the country, tail between his legs. But that is all.”

Jasper had a very strange look on his face. As though he were listening to her but thinking of something else.

“My fear,” she said, “if there is anything to fear, it is that he will call you out.”

“He is too cowardly.”

“Maybe he has heard how you shoot.” She meant to say it lightly. But did not.

Jasper scowled. “You needn’t concern yourself—”

“I needn’t? But you may? You’re the one who wants to hide me somewhere.”

“If it will set your mind at ease, I’ve already considered the possibility that he will call me out.” His face fell into something resembling a pout. “If he challenges me, I will have the choice of weapons. You may rest assured I will not choose guns.” He attempted a wry smile. And almost pulled it off. “I thought swords.”

“Are you skilled?”

“I was when I was twelve.” Then his smile became real. “But surely I can prance about and jab better than Hilyer.”

He saw, too, the absurdity of it all. The only thing that made this plan credible was that Hilyer was roundly despised. While the Taverstons were universally admired. Hilyer would be as much an outcast as…as she was. And that had to be enough for her. For Henry. Dead in a gully in Spain. For the baby, too tiny to live, born dead—left in a shallow grave under a bush.

A storm of anger shook her. Mocking the marquess at a party was not enough. And her father. Where was Frederick Culpepper’s comeuppance?

“Vanessa,” he said, all humor falling away. “I want you to spend the night at Grosvenor Square.”

His parents’ house? Absolutely not. They would turn her away at the door. She would be more humiliated than Hilyer.

He saw her face. Her refusal. Her confusion.

“Please.” He said it forcefully. Not like a request. “Do it. For me.”

*

He did not permit her to veil herself or steal into the house through the servants’ entrance. He took her up the wide walk to the massive front door. A very stiff butler opened it.

“Peters,” Jasper said, hand on her elbow, steering her inside. “Will you ask the earl if he can see me? I’ll wait in the small parlor. Please tell him Mrs. Wardrip is with me.”

“Yes, my lord.”

Vanessa had never seen a face so blank of expression. Her father’s butlers, a succession of them, tended to sneer.

The earl’s house was grand. Grandeur did not awe her. Old money was still money. Things were just things. But there was, she had to admit, an atmosphere here. Rarified air. As if all loudness, all unpleasantness, must be muffled.

She and Jasper were very quiet. They had used up all their words.

They entered what Jasper called the small parlor. Decorated in forest green damasks, with mahogany furnishings, it was, of course, not small. There was no fire in the grate. Jasper lit a lamp. He indicated one of the chairs. Floral cushioned. She was comforted, against all reason, to see the seat cushion was indented from frequent use. Jasper had taken her into one of the family rooms.

Nevertheless, the earl could not walk in to find her seated as if she belonged. What was Jasper thinking! They stood there. Listening to the wall clock tick.

The earl arrived. He did not look as affable as he had at their parting in the gardens. He looked coiled with controlled fury.

“Jasper, what is the meaning of this?”

“Good evening, Father. Perhaps you didn’t see Mrs. Wardrip standing right here?” He gripped her elbow, pulling her a hair closer. She realized she had tried to hide in his shadow.

The earl closed his eyes and breathed…mightily. He opened them.

“Good evening, Mrs. Wardrip. I did not mean to be rude.”

“My lord.” She dipped a curtsy. And thought better of saying anything more.

“I apologize, Father, for this intrusion. I would not impose like this, but I’m concerned for Mrs. Wardrip’s safety.”

The earl pursed his lips. “Because tonight is Hazard’s gamblers’ rout?”

“You know—

“Yes, I know about it. Hazard invited me. I told him he was absurd.”

Jasper looked a little hurt. “I know it is rather melodramatic, but…”

“It’s clever enough.” He sniffed. “But Hazard knows I won’t step foot in Brooks’s. Bunch of foxed Whigs! But that’s neither here nor there.” He looked from one to the other. “Has Hilyer made threats?”

“No,” Jasper said. “Not threats.”

“You cannot have been intimidated by that pea-brained insult in the scandal sheet.”

Jasper groaned. A muffled but definite groan. He was not pleased his father was aware he’d been deemed a handsome bed.

“It’s an overabundance of caution, but I don’t want to leave Mrs. Wardrip alone.”

Was that it? Her heart melted, just a little. He meant well. But he didn’t understand. She would still be alone. Still listening for his footsteps.

“I don’t know, Jasper. This is beyond—”

The door sprang open and another Taverston skidded into the room.

“Crispin!” Vanessa and Jasper both cried out at once.

Crispin halted. He turned to her with a brilliant smile—different from Jasper’s, asymmetrical, thinner lipped—yet sparkling with evident delight. He clipped his heels together and bowed at the waist.

“Mrs. Wardrip. Such a pleasure.” He straightened and turned. “Father, Mother is—oh, hello, Jasp—Mother is coming. Fair warning.”

The earl clapped a hand to his temple. “Jasper, you have gone beyond the pale.”

“What are you doing here?” Jasper demanded.

Crispin’s eyes widened. “I live here.”

“Crispin is home on a few days’ leave. Very few.”

“It isn’t my fault, Father. Wellesley stuck his letters in my hand and ordered me to be back the day before I left.”

Vanessa heard a gasp and turned to the doorway. The countess stood there, staring, white as chalk. Jasper evidently got his height from both parents. Her hair had gone gray but was styled elegantly and her face, classically beautiful, was only beginning to show fine lines. This was what a lady should be. Before her, Vanessa felt like a tramp.

“Mother.” There was a slight tremor in Jasper’s voice, and she hated him for it. “Permit me to introduce—”

“No.” His mother turned her back. “Take her out of this house. Good God, Jasper. What if Olivia were here!”

Vanessa felt faint. Jasper took her elbow in a pincer grip.

“If I leave with her now, Mother, I will not be back.”

The earl spoke next. “Jasper, don’t be foolish. Beatrice, you needn’t receive her. I agree, it is too much. But I have given permission for her to use the Rose Room for tonight.”

“In this house?” The disgust in her tone made the air around them seem to pulse.

“Jasper will not be here. He will be out with friends.”

“Doing God knows what,” she said. “A rake. That is what he is becoming. Ever since that woman put her cat claws—”

“Mrs. Wardrip,” Crispin cut in, “you do not know, by any chance, your husband’s recipe for his cordial, do you?” He stepped to her side, opposite Jasper, the two of them, buttresses, then addressed the earl. “Dr. Wardrip was under my command. He found me one morning…inconvenienced. His intervention was timely. I could not have marched.” He faced her again. “Most usually, cordials are not effective. He didn’t tell you any of this?”

She shook her head. She had no idea what he was talking about. And Jasper looked as though he might faint.

“Then I am even more indebted.” His voice lowered on a sigh. “Even if the recipe is buried with him.”

“Oh, Crispin,” the countess said, without turning about. “That’s enough.” Was she angry or anguished? “Mrs. Wardrip may use the Rose Room tonight. But I want her gone in the morning.” She stormed away.