Chapter Five

I t was Vanessa Culpepper Wardrip’s twentieth birthday. She had been living in Lord Jasper Taverston’s rented townhouse for one month. Since he was an earl’s son, she was reaccustoming herself to life’s creature comforts. She sat in front of a roaring fire, wrapped in a heavy wool blanket, lamps lit along all four walls. Nevertheless, she felt cold, frightened, and very much alone.

One week ago, she and Lord Taverston had put their signatures to the contract. And now, listening to sleet pattering on the windows, she wallowed in regret.

She had justified her decision with the fact that Lord Taverston made her feel safe. To live under his protection meant financial security and physical comfort. The arrangement gave her the independence she had always believed she craved.

Yet it had occurred to her tonight, sitting here alone, surrounded by paintings of people and places she did not know, that they were strangers. She had signed away her good name, what was left of it, irretrievably, to a stranger.

Moreover, she had an inexplicable knot of worry in the pit of her stomach that what they had done would disappoint Lieutenant Taverston. She didn’t care to disappoint him. He frightened her, kind though he’d been.

On the Peninsula, ranking officers did not concern themselves with the welfare of the common soldiers’ wives and children, but Lieutenant Taverston was different. He knew them by name. And he’d known Henry. In Corunna, he’d brought word of Henry’s death to her himself. He’d recognized something in her grief that told him she would not avail herself of a widow’s best chance for survival: marrying one of her husband’s comrades. That made her useless to the army. Dead weight. Yet rather than abandon her to the advancing French, he wasted precious time finding room for her on one of the British evacuation transports, no doubt through bribery. He paid a fleeing clergyman to watch over her during the voyage. And he gave her a sealed letter to present to his brother in London. An introduction, he said, and she trusted him.

By the time she’d met Lord Jasper Taverston, she had known what it meant to be hungry, to be cold to the marrow, to have scabbed feet and dirt in the creases of her skin, to be so sick and exhausted and frightened that devastating loss was experienced as just one more nightmare in an endless series of horrors. After reading his brother’s letter, Lord Taverston had surrendered to her use of the townhouse he had recently leased. He’d hired a maid to tend to her, even tasking the girl to buy her some decent clothes. Then he’d left her alone. A week had passed. When she’d found herself wakening from her nightmares to find herself safe and clean, warm, and full bellied, she had been able to hold in her heart two feelings at once: pride that she had endured such challenges and survived, and determination never to find herself so desperate again. She’d needed a plan.

That was when Lord Taverston had returned. To assure himself she was reviving. To see what else she needed. To be able to send a report to Lieutenant Taverston.

What followed over the course of the next fortnight was not a seduction. Or perhaps it was. What did she know of such things? All she knew was how he made her feel. Cared for. Cossetted. Safe. Admired. Desired.

And how he made her feel .

She had loved Henry in a quiet way though it was wrong to have married him. She mourned a friend, a champion, not a husband. True, she had enjoyed their special nights together, few and brief though they had been. They’d been a gift. But lying with Henry was nothing like lying with Lord Taverston. With Jasper. He’d told her to call him by his given name; she was trying to remember to do so.

To be truthful with herself, it was for the lying together that she agreed to be his mistress, not the security, comfort, or independence. And now she worried he’d tired of her already. Where was he?

Somewhere safe, of course.

When in London, he lived at his parents’ home in Mayfair. He’d leased this house as a hideaway, as peers’ sons often did, to get out from under their mothers’ noses. But he’d yielded the house to her at once, exclusively, for propriety’s sake, since he understood her to be, in some way yet to be defined, under his brother’s wing—a way that, she assured him, was not what he was thinking.

Before the previous week, they’d been discreet. He’d spent only one full night with her in his own townhouse and that by accident. Afterward, perhaps expecting such accidents to occur more frequently, they’d agreed to formalize what they had informally begun.

Their contract was detailed but not lengthy. She would have adequate “pin money”—she supposed she was not to be cheapened by calling it the salary that it was. She would have a lady’s maid. The house would be staffed with a butler and housekeeper-cook, as well as a groundskeeper who could also serve as a groom. Lord Taverston offered a riding horse, but she did not care for riding, so he provided the use of a carriage and coach horses. The contract also transferred the lease on the house to her name. Will had said that was to ensure that Lord Taverston would not bring other women into it— good Lord ! In situations mutually desirable, she could be asked and could agree to serve as Lord Taverston’s hostess. However, she was not permitted to entertain men in his absence and was not required to entertain his friends in any capacity. She didn’t dare ask Will what that meant. She was granted the right to refuse Lord Taverston access to her bed ten days each month wholly at her discretion. It galled her to think these were considerations to be negotiated. But it had reassured her, somewhat, when Lord Taverston—Jasper—had agreed to all of Will’s stipulations with no more argument than a superior look down his nose.

But Will could not stipulate that Jasper must spend his nights with her. The fact that he had done so every night since the ink was dry did not guarantee he would always come home. She suspected, by the lateness of the hour, that he had supped with his parents, and then gone to his club. He hadn’t said. She was his mistress, not his wife; she could not expect him to say.

Perhaps peers’ wives had no such expectations either.

Vanessa shifted in her chair, drawing her blanket closer. Gooseflesh rose as rivulets of fear rolled down her neck and shoulders, causing her arms to tremble. She did not like being alone.

She could wake her maid, Madeline, but the poor girl was bone tired, and Vanessa was not careless of servants as she had once been. Besides, it was not Madeline’s company she wanted.

She wanted Jasper. And she missed Henry. This fear she felt was too much like fearing for her husband, a fear that had proved all too valid.

The quality of the noise beyond her windows had changed. In addition to sleet, she heard the clicking of feet on cobbles and men’s voices. She strained until she picked out Jasper’s. There was much laughter, but she didn’t hear his, only his rumbling. As the voices drew closer, she pulled out a few words. They had been gambling. Drinking. There was a horserace…tomorrow? She heard the name “Bathurst” twice, sworn like a curse. Then Jasper was saying goodbye. Sending them off. The front door groaned open, and she heard Bremont’s deferential murmur.

Jasper said, “The sitting room?” He sounded surprised. A bit slurred. She couldn’t make out Bremont’s question, but Jasper’s answer was loud. “No. But coffee would be welcome. And toasted bread if Cook is…no, don’t bother her. Van—Mrs. Wardrip will fuss at me.” He chuckled. “Just cold bread.”

Footsteps came up the stairs, then he swept into the sitting room.

“Vanessa.” He reeked of tobacco and brandy. At least it was not rum. “You don’t have to sit up for me.”

“I was not waiting for you,” she said carefully, wanting to strike the right tone. Not accusatory, certainly. But not apologetic either.

He stepped closer. He was not unsteady on his feet and his eyes did not demonstrate that sheen of drunkenness she had learned to recognize all too well. Ah, but perhaps gentlemen held their liquor better than soldiers.

Rather than squashing into the chair beside her, he drew another one up close. His movements were all graceful, not sloppy, and not overly controlled. He might have bathed in brandy, but apparently, had not imbibed too much of it.

He gestured toward the window. “It’s very late. Is there something bothering you? Keeping you up?”

She bit her lip, then said, “Just thoughts. Hard to banish thoughts.”

He nodded. “I’m sorry.” He let out a long sigh. Then he pressed her. “Past thoughts? Or are you having regrets?”

“Regrets?”

“About…” He swept a hand in the air, indicating everything but nothing in particular. “This.” Then he leaned forward, lifted her hand from the blanket she was clutching, and squeezed it. “Did I pressure you into something you were not ready for?”

She thought yes but answered, “I am not a green girl.” His gaze was so steady, it made her ask, “Are you having regrets?”

He planted a quick kiss on her hand, then dropped it. He rose, paced a few steps, then turned to face her.

“Not regrets. One might call them ‘concerns.’” He waited for a response, but she gave none, so he went on unprompted. “I’ve never done this before, and I fear I am doing it wrong.”

“This? Wrong how?”

“Well, for example, this evening. I thought that I was looking forward to it.” His tone changed to musing, irritated musing. “First, I had planned to sup with an old friend from Oxford. A scholarship boy, but well brought up, and we’d always gotten along despite his lack of breeding.”

That stung, but she did not point out she also lacked what he called “breeding.”

“I brought him around quite often in our college days, but I haven’t seen him in a long while. I heard he had a business opportunity in Canada and might be going.” He smiled. Embarrassed. “That isn’t the point. The point is, I had been looking forward to seeing him again.”

“Why haven’t you? Because he is no longer in your social sphere?”

“Partly. But also Olivia. My sister. She had an adorable infatuation with him. My brothers and I used to tease her. But she is fourteen now. Past adorable. Her blushes became insupportable for everyone. Mostly for Benjamin, I’m afraid. And, of course, Olivia.”

She felt for the girl. And respected the man for absenting himself at the cost of distance from an influential friend.

“Did you not enjoy your supper?”

“I did, to a point. Less so the gathering afterward. An evening with my usual set. The exact same evening I’ve enjoyed hundreds, if not thousands, of times.” He sagged. “Vanessa, I spent the whole night looking at the clock, wishing I were here.” He let out a breath of laughter. “I don’t think that is normal.”

The butler knocked, then came in with coffee and thin slices of bread. Jasper did not speak until Bremont left. Then he picked up where he had left off. Or close to it.

“I am concerned that I have been overly…” He cleared his throat and transferred his gaze to a spot on the wall. “Overly demanding. I thought that you might appreciate an evening to yourself.”

She was afraid to laugh because he was so serious.

“I have not found my duties onerous,” she assured him.

He must have sensed she was biting her cheek because he turned to her and grinned.

“Well, that, at least, is a relief. But promise me you will tell me if they become so.”

“I will. But it is not something I can imagine coming to pass.”

She wondered if they would now go to bed, but his grin fell away, and he reclaimed the chair beside her. He was silent a long moment, then he blurted, “Is it the newness, do you think? I swear Carleton and Perry knew I was chomping at the bit to be rid of them. They mocked my distraction.”

“Are you embarrassed by me?”

“Not by you.”

“Are you embarrassed to have a mistress?”

He fretted a little, then said, “I don’t know. Perhaps. I know I have no reason to be.” He shot a sideways glance at her. “Are you—please, I don’t mean to be insulting—are you embarrassed to be one?”

“Yes.”

“God.” He groaned.

“But embarrassment is a frivolous emotion. I thought myself shed of it. Now I recognize there is an element of privilege in feeling it again.”

He frowned. “That is too much for my brandy-soaked head.”

“Are you brandy soaked?”

“Enough to be confessional. I confess the decision was more impetuous than is my wont. And that I am too often swayed by the opinions of my peers.”

“You fear they will disapprove? Of your taking a mistress?”

“Not rationally fearful. Not of them.” He shook his head. His face reddened. “The sobering thought is facing Crispin.”

Vanessa puffed out a breath. “More than sobering, I think. Frightening.”

Jasper started. He turned widened eyes upon her. “You said there was nothing between you.”

“And there isn’t. I scarcely know him. I have no idea why he took it into his head to rescue me.”

“That is easily explained. He was just being Crispin.” He sighed. “Always the better man. The letter he wrote, do you wonder at it?”

“He said it was an introduction. I suppose a bedraggled miss showing up at your doorstep would need one.”

“He wrote that you were the widow of a fine British soldier. He asked me to give you whatever support you needed. Give you space to mourn your husband. Then help you back onto your feet, when you were ready. Little enough to ask of a man in my position. But Vanessa, I did exactly the opposite.”

“What could he have expected? From me, I mean. Not from you.”

“He said—” Jasper made a sound like a cough—“you might decide to return to your family. Or to your husband’s. But if those were not options, he hoped I could find a position for you.”

She laughed a little hollowly. “That you did.”

“God.”

After a moment, she pushed aside her blanket—it was too warm in the room now—and stood. “I don’t suppose we need live our lives in fear of Lieutenant Taverston’s disapproval. Or even if we do, the mistake is made. Tearing up the contract will not undo it.”

“I never suggested that!” He jumped to his feet and caught her by the arm. “Vanessa, the very last thing I want is to lose you. I want to do right by you. Insofar as I can after all this. Crispin mentioned family, yet I didn’t even consider them. I never asked who they—”

“There is nothing to consider. We were estranged from both sides.” She shook off his hand. “I’m sorry, but I am not ready to discuss my past with you.”

He stepped back. She saw hurt in his eyes and softened her voice. “But I will discuss my current concerns. Our contract laid out the framework for a commercial transaction. A necessary framework, but we both recognize there is more to it than that. Things that cannot be codified should nevertheless be understood.”

He nodded. “Yes. Yes, thank you. That is what I have been trying to get at. I want to know your concerns.”

He drew her back to the chair.

“Would you like coffee? I need some.”

“No, thank you.”

He poured himself a cup, then sat beside her, an expectant look on his face. Outside, the sleet had stopped falling. If she were not mistaken, the sky had lightened a shade.

“Well, for one, I don’t like to be left alone.”

His cup rattled but he steadied his hand and said, “Oh?”

“That is not meant to alarm you. I don’t expect you to tie yourself to my apron strings. I am not, by nature, a nervous woman, but in Portugal and more particularly in Spain—” She held up a hand to keep him silent. “I know there is no danger here. But even over there, my concern was not so much for myself. I wasn’t strictly alone. I was always with other women.” She shuddered, voice dropping. “Even on the retreat, when I was…sick, and fell behind, Lydia would not leave me.”

“Where was Henry?” he demanded. “If you were sick—”

“Soldiers’ obligations are to their units. If Henry had abandoned his post to look after me, he would have been shot. We looked after ourselves.”

Jasper turned pale. “That isn’t right.”

“That is war. Jasper, every time I said goodbye to Henry, I knew it could be the last time. Every time, until it was. I have spent far too much of my life waiting to hear reassuring footsteps. That’s what I mean by being left alone. It isn’t my place to ask, and logically I realize you are in no danger, but if you know you won’t be returning at night, will you tell me beforehand?”

“Yes. Yes, of course, I will. And if I am ever detained and you are expecting me, I will send word.”

She felt a wash of relief and laughed shakily. “I will outgrow this, I expect. I know it is a great deal to ask—”

“It is not. In truth, it’s basic courtesy. What else?”

“You must ask one of me first.”

“Is that how we will do it?” He hmmmed and regarded his hands. “All right. But this one is delicate.”

“Go on.”

“I noticed you have been using…” He clenched and unclenched his fingers. “A vinegared sponge.”

She nodded, willing herself not to blush. She needn’t justify herself.

He said, “It is only that—as I understand it—the efficacy of that measure is unreliable.”

She knew that. “But it is better than nothing.” So Lydia had told her.

“French letters are a better option.”

“But difficult to obtain. And impossible to afford.”

“Ha! Well, no. On both counts, no.” He reached out to touch her arm lightly. “If you’ll permit me, if you trust me, I’ll take care of that. You needn’t.”

“I trust you.”

She had more to fear from an unwanted pregnancy than he did, but perhaps he did not trust her to always take the necessary precautions. Which steered them toward the inevitable. The question that must loom largest before them both.

“Your turn,” he said.

So she must raise it.

“You are heir to an earldom. I know that means you will one day need a countess to bear you an heir.”

“I—”

“No, don’t interrupt. I know how your world works, Jasper. There are some things I cannot abide. I will not engage in adultery. Our contract ends when you take a wife.”

He nodded, jaw tense, pale, looking at the floor. He said quietly, “I agree.”

“All I ask is that you give me fair warning. When the time comes, when you are ready to start courting in earnest, will you promise that you will tell me first? Will you allow me the dignity of my retreat?”

“Yes, of course.” He sounded choked.

“All right. Your turn, Jasper.”

“I’d like—” He grimaced. Then, though his chin was down, he lifted his eyes to her. “This may be too much for me to ask. But, for example, those thoughts that kept you up? Those difficult-to-banish thoughts? If sharing them would help to banish them…” He shook his head. “The devil. We jumped into this so very quickly. I’m trying to say I’d like to know you better. I’d like for you to know me.”

She hesitated. There was a measure of protection in remaining strangers. Still, she answered truthfully. “I’d like that too.”