Chapter 15

15

“ I ’m sorry, but Lady Elizabeth is not at home.” The butler repeated the phrase for the second time.

“Not in or not accepting callers?” Jasper asked, seeking confirmation.

The man’s mouth pressed into a flat line, giving him the appearance of a turtle. “I am not at liberty to say, my lord.”

“Will you tell her it’s urgent that Lord Darington sees her. You have my card.”

The butler nodded in agreement and held the card up, pinched between his forefingers as evidence.

Jasper took a step back and looked up at the upper levels of the townhouse, as if expecting Elizabeth to appear at one of the windows so that he might call to her like some woebegone Romeo. When she didn’t, he had no choice but to leave, burdened with dejection.

The ride home left his mind churning, wondering how he could reach her. Likely through her friends, their addresses easily procured through a servant’s inquiry.

Yes, that would be the ideal course of action.

Bolstered, he dashed up the steps to his townhouse and was met with the sound of tittering giggles.

What the devil?

He followed the sound into the drawing room where Bess was entertaining several young women, one of whom was immensely swollen with child, her red hair almost as bright as her spring-green gown. Lady Brightstone.

Just the woman he’d hoped to see.

In fact, every woman his grandmother was entertaining was one of Elizabeth’s friends.

“I wonder…” He stepped toward the women, careful how he chose his words. “That is, I have to speak with Elizabeth, but her butler claims she is not at home. Would one of you be so kind as to pass on a message for me?”

“And why do you need to speak with her?” Miss Beauchamp asked, skepticism hard in her hazel eyes.

“Because he loves her.” Bess clapped her hands like an overly excited child.

“Is that true?” Miss Honeyfield looked at him with such hope on her face that her affection for Elizabeth was irrefutable.

Jasper gave a solemn nod. “I never should have let things progress to this point. I ought to have been up front from the first, to let her know how I…”

He tapered off. His heart was not for them. It was for Elizabeth alone.

But apparently his speech had been enough for Lady Brightstone to give him a broad smile, her hand set atop her round belly. “We can do better than pass on a message. We know where she is so that you might deliver what you wish to say in person.”

Jasper tilted his head. “Is she not in London?”

“I offered her the use of my private retreat,” Lady Brightstone said proudly. “Knowing she would go there.”

“And that if you wanted to find her,” Miss Honeyfield added, “we could tell you exactly where to go.”

“If you truly loved her and we knew your intentions to be true,” Miss Beauchamp added, that warning glint still evident in her gaze.

At this point, Bess gave Jasper a knowing smile. “I assumed correctly that there was great benefit to acquainting myself with these clever young ladies.”

“She left for Rosewood Manor this morning,” Lady Jillian said. “Or as we call it, the Spinster’s Sanctuary. It’s located in Kent.”

Spinster’s Sanctuary?

But with the wistful look that touched Lady Jillian’s face, he opted not to question the odd name.

The five women stared at him expectantly.

“I imagine if you leave now, you’ll arrive not long after her.” Lucy nodded encouragingly.

“And if I leave by horseback, I might arrive when she does,” he mused aloud.

“Marvelous,” Hannah exclaimed. “Oh, I haven’t had this much fun in an age.”

The women began chatting amongst themselves, but Jasper did not stay to listen. He exited the room with purposeful strides to seek out his valet to pack his satchel and his stable master to prepare his steed posthaste.

He needed to see Elizabeth, to proclaim his love.

Devil’s Snare—or Devil, as Jasper affectionately referred to him—was waiting for him when he arrived at the stable, saddled and stocked with a bag of provisions. The black stallion nuzzled Jasper when he arrived, and immediately began nodding his great head with an urgency. Devil had a penchant for galloping when he ought to trot, and a determination that set him above the rest. He pawed the ground impatiently, his skin quivering with anticipation, even as Jasper secured his satchel and swung up into the waiting saddle.

Jasper needed only to click his tongue and his steed was off like a shot, charging through the mews, edging around London traffic with apparent aggravation. Paved streets gave way to hard-packed dirt roads, and finally Devil was stretching his legs out in a full gallop on the outskirts of the city.

Heavy clouds hung overhead, promising rain that Jasper hoped might leave off for long enough for him to arrive at Spinster’s Manor, or whatever they’d called it.

The day was long, with Jasper scanning the horizon for Elizabeth’s carriage, even as he paused from time to time to offer Devil a respite. Not that the young stallion needed one. Jasper had scarcely caught his own breath before the beast was pawing at the earth once more, eager to race across the countryside after being penned up in the city for far too long.

They were close to the area surrounding Spinster’s Place when rain began to spit down at them from the heavy clouds.

Not that it mattered as they were very nearly there.

And then, of all ridiculous things, a tree stump came into view at the side of the road, not at all noticeable until they were directly upon it.

Devil’s Snare had always been fearless, uncaring if a cape flapped in his periphery, heedless if someone shouted near his head, and impervious to rain or shine, sleet or snow. But good God, how that horse detested tree stumps. As if these bits of foreign material jutted up from the earth with malintent, specifically to cause his demise.

Just as Jasper caught sight of the tree stump, Devil leapt from the earth as if it suddenly turned to flame, bucking his unease with a frantic, frenzied fear.

“It’s only a stump, boy,” Jasper soothed through gritted teeth as he tried desperately to hang on.

His foot slipped from one stirrup.

Jasper clung to the horse’s broad body with the force of his inner thighs. But his efforts were no match for the next buck, which sent him flying from the massive horse, directly toward that stump.

An explosion of pain rang out at the back of Jasper’s head as his body tumbled awkwardly to the ground. Stars danced in his eyes and mixed with the flecks of raindrops coming faster now, pelting his face with what felt like ice.

If only it could reach the back of his head where agony thundered in time with his heartbeat.

If only he wasn’t so damnably tired and had the energy to move. If only he’d managed to arrive at Spinster’s…cottage?

The world around him grayed out around the edges.

Of course his life would end like this, fading away as he finally found someone who loved him precisely for who he was. His only regret was not first seeing Elizabeth.

To tell her he loved her.

Elizabeth sat in the window seat of her bedchamber at Spinster’s Sanctuary, a book sitting in her lap like dead weight.

The exquisite manor contained a music room, an art room, and a well-appointed kitchen, should any of the women decide to try their hand at baking, as Amy had so often claimed to want to do. And, of course, a sprawling library, stacked with volumes of books.

There was no reason for Elizabeth’s ennui. Especially when she had only arrived within the last hour, yet an entire day seemed to have passed in that short time she’d been there.

Her sigh puffed a cloud of fog on the window. She had come here to escape her woes, to be free of the burden of her troubles, and they had followed her, like specters, haunting her every thought.

Rain lashed at the windows, streaking the glass with rivulets that ran together, drawing her attention from the forgotten volume of Sense and Sensibility in her lap as her mind spun and spun and spun.

Movement in the yard caught her attention. A horse, black as pitch, its saddle empty as it trotted about in the front lawn of the manor house.

She sat upright, peering through the rain-streaked glass to better see. Yes, there was indeed a horse on the lawn absent its rider.

Had someone come to call and their horse jolted off without them?

But who would possibly be by to call?

Frowning, Elizabeth set aside her book and called for Susan, the maid her parents had spared to accompany her to Spinster’s Sanctuary.

The young woman, a nervous, newly employed maid who had a tendency to wring her fingers together and chatter on about her younger sister who she doted on, appeared immediately.

“Am I mad, or is there a riderless horse outside?” Elizabeth indicated the window.

“Mercy me.” Susan put a hand to her chest. “I’ll notify the butler immediately.”

Elizabeth ran after her, desperate for a distraction from the prison of her mind and that endless churning of her thoughts. The butler immediately summoned a footman who ran out into the driving rain while the stable master was called.

Despite the awful weather, Elizabeth followed the footman outside and waited on the porch as he approached the black stallion. Even from a distance, Elizabeth could tell it was a fine animal, the muscles strong beneath the glossy, wet coat. This was a gentleman’s horse to be sure.

But what gentleman would be out in this area when the London season was on?

Her heart caught, especially as she recalled having been told of a certain horse who was beautiful and powerful and all black.

No. She would not allow herself to accept that the rider might be Jasper. While their engagement had not yet been formally called off, it was as good as done. They had said their piece, and there was nothing for it.

He would not have come to her.

And yet…

A breath caught in her throat as the horse continued to dart away from the footman, rushing toward the gate leading to the main road. As if trying to encourage the man to follow him.

“I think he wants you to follow,” Elizabeth called, her breath forming little clouds in the damp, icy air.

The man could not hear and jogged closer to Elizabeth. “I beg your pardon, my lady?”

The horse immediately followed the footman as though trying to reclaim the man’s attention.

“He wants you to follow,” Elizabeth tried again.

Panic curled around her heart, catching it in an iron grip.

Because what if it was Jasper’s horse? What if this was Devil’s Snare, whom he’d spoken of with such pride?

And why would Jasper no longer be on him?

Propriety be damned, she ran out into the rain, ignoring the stinging pelt of the frigid droplet and the footman’s pleas to return to the manor. Up close, she saw a scar on the horse’s chest, a mark made by the trainer who had so cruelly tried to whip the horse into submission.

The breath choked from her. This absolutely was Devil’s Snare.

“Lord Darington was riding this horse,” she called to the footman. “He is in need of assistance. Ready the carriage.”

The footman ran off to do as he was bidden, shouting to the stable master who was rapidly approaching.

Devil’s Snare nuzzled Elizabeth in an anxious bid to gain her attention.

“You have my full attention,” she promised, turning the palm of her hand to his soft muzzle. “Take us to your master and I shall pray it is not too late.”

Then, without thought, she came round the side of the horse, lifted her skirts to affix her left foot into the stirrup, then gripped the saddle and swung herself up into the seat.

She scarcely had time to readjust the reins before the horse was off at a canter, rushing toward the gate. She turned him toward the stables and he aggressively turned back to the gate.

The stable master followed behind her, a single horse affixed to a simple wooden wagon. “This will do in a pinch,” he called.

Elizabeth allowed Devil’s Snare to race onward, pausing to slow the gallop to a trot, to ensure the carriage could keep up. On the open road, there was no slowing the beast as he raced down the path.

He stopped abruptly, pacing backwards with apparent unease. That’s when Elizabeth saw him.

Jasper.

Lying perfectly still beside a tree stump nestled in the grass along the side of the road.

She swung her leg over the saddle, hopping down into the mud and ran to him, falling beside where he lay.

“Jasper,” she cried, her voice a shriek amid the roar of driving rain.

He did not acknowledge her and fear gripped her hear.

He was so still. Too still.

No. This couldn’t be.

He had come all the way here. For her.

By God, she would not lose him now.

She grabbed the lapels of his jacket and screamed his name. His brow flinched and she gasped out a sob.

He wasn’t dead.

Thank God.

She caught his hand. “We’ll get you help.”

The stable master appeared.

“He’s alive, but needs a physician,” she said, unable to pull her gaze from Jasper’s face, which had once again fallen still.

“I’ll get him on the wagon, my lady, and we’ll summon the physician.”

“Take Devil’s Snare to the physician.” Elizabeth relinquished her hold on Jasper and pushed to her feet. “I’ll drive the wagon.”

The stable master drew up. “My lady, I cannot let you?—”

“You can.” She bent to help lift Jasper. “His life is more important than anything else.”

He did not protest as she helped him carry Jasper’s limp form to the bed of the wagon, a reassuring groan emanating from somewhere in Jasper’s throat.

Good. If he was groaning, he was alive.

There was still a chance he wouldn’t…

No. She refused to even think of that horrible outcome.

It was too impossible to imagine his strength, his vitality, the caring affection of his person, snuffed out forever.

The stable master drew up into Devil’s Snare’s saddle and the two of them were off as Elizabeth sat on the plank seat and took the reins of the mare, careful to drive quickly while also keeping the wagon as steady as possible.

Back at the manor, the footman from earlier rushed out to meet her, his hair still damp and his uniform limp from having been drenched once before by the rain. Together with the butler, they carried Jasper into the manor, only this time he did not move or groan, his face impossibly pale.

He was settled on the bed in one of the many rooms, and there was nothing for it but to wait for the physician.

The abrupt end of activity was Elizabeth’s undoing. Without her hands busy, her thoughts were wont to trail to places she did not want them to wander.

Thoughts of what could happen if the doctor was delayed, if he did not arrive in time. If there was nothing he could do.

Elizabeth had accepted weeks ago that she was in love with Jasper. What she had not allowed herself to realize was that he also loved her.

Though he said he did not, his love was evident—in the number of times he caught her as she tripped, in his nonchalant ease at helping her, and in his lack of chastisement for her clumsiness. And even in the times he himself had taken the attention to spare her, like when he spilled the sauce on his cravat.

She had been a fool to think he did not love her. And there was surely a reason for his hesitation to accept that he did. Likely the same reason that drew him towards the arms of many lovers during his grand tour.

The tears came faster, hot where they tracked down her cheeks as she clasped his hand and silently prayed for the physician to hurry.

She could not lose him, not when she only just realized she truly had him…and he had her.