He was smiling in a way that was warming his features, sending her heart into an unsteady rhythm.
It bewildered her. It unsettled her. And most dangerously of all, it made her want to see that smile again.
Chapter Seventeen
Jasper tightened the leather strap, painfully aware of her eyes upon him.
She had been watching him from the start, though she thought herself discreet. He had felt the weight of her gaze like the sun on his back, and it had taken every ounce of discipline not to turn, not to provoke, not to answer her scrutiny with one of his grins.
So he gave her what she had claimed she wanted: nothing at all. No attention. Only silence.
His focus remained on the wheel until her voice slipped unexpectedly into the conversation.
“I suppose,” Matilda said carefully, “there is some sense in what His Grace has said. If the girls had a task that required their full effort, it might indeed keep them from mischief.”
The words fell quiet, almost tentative, yet they carried something that struck him oddly, like a peace offering.
Jasper’s hands stilled on the axle. Slowly, he looked up. Their eyes locked. Her pale grey gaze met his and for the briefest heartbeat, the world hushed around them. There was nothing of the chatter of the others, of the creak of wood, even of the rustle of leaves in the breeze. It was as though the moment belonged to them alone.
Then, just as swiftly, she pulled away. Her lashes dropped, her shoulders tightened, and she turned her attention back to Evelyn.
Jasper forced himself to look back at the wheel, his fingers tightening around the wood. Yet the ghost of that glance lingered, sharp and bright, sparking through him in a way that felt both unwelcome and exhilarating.
He rolled his sleeves another inch higher, set his jaw, and bent once more to the task. But beneath the steady rhythm of his work, he felt it, that strange, undeniable titillation of knowing Lady Matilda Sterlington had, for the first time, chosen not to fight him, but to stand with him.
Jasper gave the wheel one last firm shove, testing the strength of the brace he had rigged. It held steady beneath the weight. He allowed himself a short nod of satisfaction before straightening to his full height. His shirt was smudged with grease and dust, and his hands bore the marks of work no gentleman need everundertake, but he did not mind. The task had occupied him, but even more than that, itsteadiedhim.
He brushed his palms together, turning back toward the waiting ladies.
“Well, it’s done,” he said simply.
Matilda spoke first, almost as if she were in a rush to beat anyone else to it. “Thank you.”
Her voice was quiet, but the sincerity in it struck him like a blow.
He could not resist. His lips curved, the tease escaping before he thought better of it. “I aim to please, my lady.”
She startled, color blooming high in her cheeks. For a moment, Jasper braced himself for the inevitable retort, for the sharp barb or the icy scoff. But none came. Instead, she simply blushed.
It suited her, he thought. The flush softened the severe lines she imagined upon herself, giving warmth to her pale grey eyes, light to her austere beauty. And for the first time, he noticed a faint scattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose.
Lovely. Utterly, unexpectedly lovely.
Jasper flexed his fingers once more, wiping the worst of the grease from his palms.
“Would you like me to escort you back to the house?” he inquired.
It was the natural question, after all; four ladies stranded on the road, their carriage only just repaired.
But instead of agreement, a chorus of protest rose at once.
“Oh, we cannot possibly return yet!” Cordelia cried.
“We are bound for town,” Hazel said firmly.
“Yes,” Evelyn added with a smile, “there are items wemustacquire for Matilda’s shawl.”
At this, the three of them broke into chuckles, exchanging knowing glances that left Jasper entirely in the dark.
