“Come in,” he called without looking up.
The door swung open with a flourish, and in stepped Jasper, all effortless charm and infuriating confidence. “Cousin,” Jasper drawled, closing the door behind him. “How splendid to see you alive and well. I was beginning to think married life had swallowed you whole.”
Mason leaned back in his chair, arching a brow. “You’ve not changed.”
“And why should I?” Jasper sauntered in, helping himself to the chair opposite the desk. “Change is overrated. You, however… what is it like, being a married man? Is your wife treatingyou well, or should I prepare to duel her in Hyde Park for dishonoring the family name?”
Mason smirked faintly, but the expression faded as he considered whether to answer truthfully. A moment’s pause passed then he set the letter down.
“The truth is… our marriage was only to help Cordelia with her troubles regarding her guardian.”
Jasper gave a low whistle, leaning back. “Ah. A noble sacrifice. And how’s that working out for you?”
Mason’s gaze drifted to the window, as if the answer might be written there. “Not as indifferently as I thought it would.”
A grin spread across Jasper’s face. “So, you’ve gone and fallen for her. And here I was, thinking I’d have to be the one to coax romance into this family. Well, if that’s the case, what’s the problem? Tell her. She looks quite smitten with you, too.”
Mason shook his head. “It’s not what she wants. She values her freedom above all else. I won’t chain her to me when she deserves to live as she wishes.”
Jasper let out a quiet laugh though not unkindly. “Ah, the self-sacrificing hero act. Very touching. Very tragic. And entirely foolish.”
Jasper lounged deeper into the chair, crossing one ankle over his knee as though he had all the time in the world to dismantle Mason’s resolve.
“You know,” he said, tapping a finger against the armrest, “I’ve seen you brood over many things—Parliament, estate business, the scandal when old Lady Marchmont mistook a foxhound for her maid—but never over a woman. This is new.”
Mason gave him a flat look. “You’re enjoying yourself far too much.”
“Of course, I am. It’s not every day I witness the mighty Duke of Galleon rendered speechless by a slip of a woman.”
“She is not a slip of a woman,” Mason said sharply, his tone cooling at once.
Jasper’s grin widened. “There it is. That protective edge. I suspect if I insulted her again, you’d toss me out of this very fine study window.”
“Quite possibly,” Mason said without hesitation.
Jasper chuckled, leaning forward, his tone softening just enough to hint at sincerity beneath the teasing. “Then why, cousin, are you so determined to let her slip away? If she means something to you, you don’t wait for the perfect conditions. You make the conditions. She’s clever enough to know her own mind; if she didn’t want you, she wouldn’t look at you the way she does.”
Mason reached for a paper knife, turning it slowly between his fingers, buying time before speaking. “You mistake gratitude for affection. It’s easy to confuse the two when someone has just pulled you out of trouble.”
“And it’s easy to hide behind that excuse when you’re afraid she might not feel the same,” Jasper countered lightly though his eyes were sharp. “But do carry on pretending it’s for her benefit and not yours.”
Mason set down the paper knife with care. “We are not having this conversation.”
“Ah, so I’ve hit the truth,” Jasper said with infuriating satisfaction as he rose to his feet. “Very well, I’ll leave you to your letters and your noble martyrdom. But I’ll wager this—when she’s gone, you’ll regret holding your tongue far more than you’d ever regret speaking.”
Mason didn’t answer. He only watched his cousin saunter to the door, a hint of unease settling in his chest that he refused to name. He leaned back into his chair as his eyes narrowed at the stack of correspondence before him. Only one name crossed his mind.
Lord Vernon.
The name alone was enough to put a stone in his chest. The man had failed in his first, crude attempt to derail Cordelia’s life, but his persistence was a far more dangerous thing. Mason knew what that sort of determination could lead to, and it made hishands curl into fists against the desk. This had to be resolved and soon. He would speak to Greely, tighten whatever legal knots were necessary, and make certain there were no loose ends for Vernon to tug at.
But as he considered the matter, another thought intruded, a thought much quieter but no less pressing.
Cordelia’s eating.
At first he’d brushed it off, thinking perhaps she was simply dainty in her habits, but over the past several days, he’d noticed the same thing again and again: a polite smile, a token bite or two, then her plate pushed aside. She claimed she wasn’t hungry, yet there was a shadow behind her eyes that told him otherwise. He couldn’t help but wonder if Vernon was at the root of it, and whether his continued scheming weighed on her enough to sour her appetite.
He didn’t like it.
