Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

" Y ou know where to find me," assured the woman, her wide beautiful eyes watching him with scandalous invitation.

Then, before he could stop her, her hands were on him, a finger tracing a dangerous path down his neck to the collar of his shirt. "I'll be waiting," she promised. Then, finally, she turned and left him.

No sooner had she left, than Jasper all but collapsed against the desk behind him. His hands shook as he fought the numbness that ran like ice through his veins. His knees were weak. His head swam. Shakily he raised a hand to his neck, massaging the skin there as if he could somehow wipe away the woman's touch.

"That was too close," Jasper muttered after a moment, passing a hand over his face. He set the candelabra down on the desk to his left and allowed himself an angry, disgruntled sigh. That woman had been following him around all evening. And he had been trying to get rid of her just as soon as their acquaintance had been made. But she had latched onto him, refusing to leave his side. He had been about to resort to throwing her out of the ball just to get a moment alone.

But his peace was not to last. No sooner had the troublesome woman retreated than Jasper heard another set of footsteps making their way into the library. These steps were heavier, more assured.

Then, as his uncle's face came into view, Jasper let out another, louder groan. He knew, before his uncle opened his mouth, just what the man was about to say.

"Why on earth have I just seen Lady Margaret storming down the hall?" Reginald asked, his brows knitted together in apparent dismay. "Did I not introduce you to her only moments ago? Why would you leave her alone?"

Jasper forced his shaking hands behind his back. The familiar, cold, clammy sensation ran up his spine as he fought to speak. When the words did come out, they were sharp and hard. "Why do you think? I dismissed her."

"Dismissed her? Why – you were meant to spend the evening with her. To ask her for a dance, at the very least. Why would you send her away?"

"She is not a good match," Jasper growled. "Anyone could see that."

"But she –"

"Find someone else," Jasper snapped. "She was…wrong."

Reginold let out a shaky, exasperated sigh. He cut an imposing figure, when not compared to his nephew. Though Jasper was taller, Reginold held his own with broad shoulders and a sharp chin and nose that sometimes reminded Jasper of a bird of prey.

Now, with his eyes narrowed, he resembled such animals all the more. "She is a woman of good social standing. She is beautiful. She is wealthy. She is perfect for you."

"You have said the same of the last five women that I have introduced you to," Reginald reminded Jasper, not without a hint of annoyance.

Self-consciously, Jasper fussed with his gloves. Those women, too, had made the mistake of trying to touch him. And the results had all been the same.

"Need I remind you that we came here with the sole purpose of finding you a wife?" continued Reginald, his annoyance growing. "How am I supposed to be expected to do that if you send away every woman I introduce to you, and then insist on disappearing from the party entirely to hide away in darkened rooms?"

"I do not have to explain myself to you!" Jasper thundered, his temper getting the better of him. As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Jasper regretted them. He and his uncle might not understand one another, but at least Reginald was trying to do his best. He was trying to look after his nephew in the only way he knew how.

Jasper sighed. "We shall have to keep looking."

As he reached up to fidget with his collar, still feeling the cold traces of Lady Margaret's touch on his neck, he watched as Reginald glanced from his face to his gloved hands.

"You are still wearing your gloves," the man mused quietly.

Jasper did not reply.

"I do not think I have seen you without them in nearly three months. You take them off to sleep, at least, do you not?"

When Jasper still made no move to speak, Jasper shook his head. "I worry about you. Every man in your position is afforded a few little eccentricities here and there but…"

"But?" Jasper challenged.

Reginald sighed. He seemed to think better of what he was about to say. "I suppose they do seem to fit with your costume." The older man turned away, hesitating only a moment. "You should rejoin the party."

"I will. In a moment."

"Sooner than later, preferably."

His annoyance growing once more, Jasper replied with a cold, hard voice. "I shall rejoin you and the others when I see fit."

Gritting his teeth so hard that the vein in his temple popped, Reginald nodded once and then took his leave.

Jasper watched his uncle retreat, his chest tight. It was a wonder to think that they were related, he and Reginald. Though his uncle by blood, the two men had very little in common. Reginald was a stern man, concerned only with duty and carrying on the family name.

Jasper, too, kept away from as many social engagements as he could, but it was for a far different reason. Still, he and his uncle were seen as aloof men of means. And, though his infatuation with it might sometimes be annoying, Reginold did have a point. Jasper could hardly blame him for fixating on the family name. Jasper was all that Reginold had left of his family. Jasper was the only one able to carry on the Dencourt line.

Still, that did not mean that Reginald and Jasper often saw eye to eye. Far from it.

Shakily, Jasper removed one of his gloves. He stared down at the skin of his hand, fighting off another wave of nausea. Why had she touched him? Why did she have to do that? He could have managed otherwise…

Gritting his teeth, Jasper removed his other glove and pocketed the set. He flexed his fingers, feeling the cool air tickle the newly freed skin of his palms.

He steeled himself. Even if Reginald had introduced him to the entirely wrong sort of woman, it did not mean that Jasper could afford to give up. He needed an heir. He needed a wife. It was time to try again.

Taking a deep breath, Jasper willed himself toward the door. He was almost out in the hall when something stopped him. He froze as a loud, startling crash sounded from somewhere behind him. Something had broken. Someone was in the library.

Arabella felt as if she had been holding her breath for an eternity. The men had been speaking for ages and she had been far too embarrassed and uncomfortable to pay much attention to anything they said. But, finally, they left.

Finally, she was alone once more.

Relieved and eager to leave the room before another stranger could happen upon her, Arabella leapt to her feet. And, in doing so, toppled a large vase which sat on the corner of the desk.

The resounding crash that echoed throughout the library made Arabella wince, pressing her eyes closed against the offending sound.

Silence filled the library for only a brief moment of respite before the angry thud of an intruder's boots made Arabella jump.

In an instant she found herself face to face with a man she barely recognized. She had seen him around the ton , she was certain. But just who he was, Arabella could not say, as flustered as she was now.

Flashing, dark green eyes stared down at her. A lock of light brown hair fell over the man's furrowed brow. "What on earth do you think you are doing?" he demanded.

It was the man from before. The one who had dismissed the woman. Arabella recognized his voice immediately. "I, I beg your pardon – I did not mean to break –"

"Not that," he snapped, his gaze flicking to the pile of broken shards at Arabella's feet. "What are you doing in here?"

Arabella opened her mouth, but nothing came out. She desperately fought to come up with a reply – some excuse that would save her the shame of the truth.

But the man before her was too quick. His gaze went to her exposed forearm and the tear along her sleeve. He took a step back as if he had suddenly discovered she carried a deadly disease.

"Who are you?" he demanded.

"I - I am Lady Arabella, Your Grace. My father is the Earl of Clement."

The man's words were low and vehement. "And why do you think you can trap me into a scandal with you, Lady Arabella?"