“Amusing?”
“Yes. As in, I adore tormenting her.” He sipped his drink, eyes glittering. “She’s utterly immune to my charm which is both insulting and… refreshing.”
“You like her,” Mason said, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.
“I most certainly do not.” Jasper’s expression was all mock indignation. “I’m simply performing a public service by keeping her from growing too comfortable in her scowl.”
“Mhm.” Mason arched a brow. “You keep telling yourself that.”
They clinked glasses again, both taking a sip, watching the swirl of silk and lace on the dancing area.
Jasper glanced sideways at him. “So… care to explain why your wife looked like she’d just swallowed a mouthful of lemon when she walked away from you?”
Mason’s jaw tightened. “I didn’t say anything that wasn’t true.”
“Ah,” Jasper said, leaning an elbow on a nearby table. “Then I suppose the truth is you enjoy seeing her sad?”
Mason shot him a dark look. “Of course not.”
“Then why are you doing such an admirable job of making it happen?” Jasper’s tone was deceptively light, but his eyes were sharp. “You used to smile more. Now you’re back to your brooding ways. It’s tedious, cousin. And I suspect you’re not the only one suffering for it.”
Mason looked away, scanning the crowd until he found Cordelia again. Her head was bent toward Hazel, and her laughter seemed polite although it did not reach her eyes.
“She knows where we stand,” he said at last. “It’s better this way. Distance will spare us both.”
Jasper snorted into his glass. “Spare you both from what? Happiness?”
“This marriage was never meant to be real.”
Jasper leaned closer, lowering his voice. “And yet here you are, glaring at every man who so much as looks at her. Admit it, Mason, you’re playing a dangerous game. She’s not the kind of woman you can keep at arm’s length without losing her entirely.”
Mason said nothing, but his grip on the glass tightened.
Jasper straightened, his grin returning like a mask. “But far be it for me to tell you how to handle your wife. I’ll just keep amusing myself with Lady Matilda while you stew in whatever this is.”
With a playful clap on Mason’s shoulder, he wandered off toward the trio of women, leaving Mason with a sour taste in his mouth that had nothing to do with the brandy.
Cordelia looked up as Jasper Everleigh strolled toward them, his smile warm and utterly confident, as though the crowded ballroom existed purely for his amusement.
“Ladies,” he greeted, bowing with an elegant flourish. “You grow lovelier each time I see you. I may have to take up poetry just to do you justice.”
Matilda gave him a withering look. “Ah, Your Grace. Again, you favor us with empty flattery.”
“Ah, but when it comes from me, it is never empty,” Jasper said, his eyes dancing with mischief. “It is… overflowing.”
Hazel stifled a laugh behind her fan, and even Cordelia felt her lips twitch.
Then Jasper’s gaze fixed on Matilda with deliberate intent. “In fact, I find myself so inspired this evening that I must ask you for the next dance.”
The little circle went still. Cordelia glanced at Hazel, who seemed equally caught off guard.
Matilda blinked then tilted her chin. “Oh, I… cannot dance this evening. You see, my slipper?—”
“—is perfectly suited for the task,” Jasper finished smoothly. “And if nothing else, politeness demands you accept, lest I be forced to stand here rejected before half the ton. Can you bear such cruelty, Lady Matilda?”
Hazel let out a soft laugh. “He’s right, you know. It would be most unkind to refuse.”
Matilda gasped in exaggerated outrage. “Hazel! How could you possibly take his side over mine?”
