That subtle prickle, like a breath at the nape of her neck. She did not dare turn, but sheknewthat Jasper Everleigh was behind her. He had arrived late, slipping into the pew one row back, and ever since, she had been maddeningly aware of him.
Now, in this very moment, she could feel the weight of his gaze upon her shoulder. She could imagine the curl of his smile if he knew what passage she had just read. Her breath caught, and she snapped the book shut, folding her hands over it as though to imprison its secret.
But she could not still her pulse, nor silence the treacherous thought that hedidknow. That he was sitting there, eyes alight with wicked amusement, delighting in her discomposure.
And for the rest of the sermon, Matilda dared not open the book again.
The finalAmenrippled through the church, and the congregation stirred. The pews stated creaking as people rose. Matilda stood quickly, tucking her disguised book against herside as if it were any ordinary prayer book. She adjusted her gloves, her bonnet,anythingto keep from glancing over her shoulder.
But she had scarcely taken a step when she felt his presence at her back, and the brush of air as he leaned closer.
“An unusual choice of hymns this morning, Lady Matilda,” Jasper murmured dangerously.
Her breath caught, and she tightened her grip on the book. “I have no notion what you mean, Your Grace,” she whispered back, her tone sharp with forced composure.
“Oh, I think you do.” His chuckle was low and infuriatingly intimate. “So very…passionate, that particular psalm. I should like to borrow it myself.”
She whirled her head just enough to catch the sparkle in his blue eyes. Her cheeks flamed.
“You are insufferable,” she hissed under her breath.
“And you,” he returned smoothly, “are careless. Do be cautious, Lady Matilda. Some passages are far too stirring for Sunday morning.”
She gasped, scandalized, but before she could retort, he straightened and stepped lightly into the aisle, bowing to a passing matron as though nothing at all had transpired.
She rushed outside into the crisp, autumn air, keeping close to Evelyn, Hazel and Cordelia, and also, keeping her book tucked firmly beneath her arm. If she walked quickly enough, perhaps she could escape before Jasper?—
“Ladies,” came his smooth voice behind her.
Her stomach dropped.Of course.
He strolled up with infuriating ease, with his hands clasped behind his back. His damning smile was as disarming as the sunlight slanting through the trees.
“Tell me,” he said lightly, addressing the group, “did any of you share the same prayer book as Lady Matilda this morning? If so, I should very much like to borrow it.”
Matilda nearly tripped. Heat shot to her cheeks as Cordelia’s head whipped around. “Matilda brought a prayer book of her own?”
Hazel gave a pointed sniff, though her gaze was shrewd. “She always does.”
“Yes,” Matilda cut in quickly, with a smile that was razor-sharp. “And no, Your Grace, you maynotborrow it. My hymns are quite ordinary and not at all suited to your… sensibilities.”
She darted him a glare sharp enough to fell a lesser man. He only bowed his head slightly, eyes glinting with wicked amusement.
“Ah,” he murmured, “forgive me, Lady Matilda. I must have been mistaken. It only seemed… well, never mind. I would not wish to deprive you of such… stirring devotion.”
Her heart lurched. Evelyn glanced between them, and her brows were lifting slightly, but she said nothing. Cordelia still looked intrigued, though Matilda caught her arm and steered her firmly toward the waiting carriage.
Jasper fell back with a low chuckle, and Matilda knew without doubt: she had not heard the last of this.
That same afternoon, Jasper strode down the corridor, intent on finding Robert in the study. Grayson’s errand still weighed on him, and he meant to be rid of it. But as he passed a tall window overlooking the gardens, something caught his eye.
He stopped short.
There, beyond the glass, Matilda walked at Greyson’s side. Her pale face was lifted toward him. Although her bonnet was casting a soft shadow, he could still see her calm expression and, damn it all, she was smiling. Behind them, Cordelia and Hazel strolled a few paces back, laughing together, their presence the perfect chaperonage.
Jasper’s hand curled into a fist against the windowsill.
He told himself there was nothing in it. Politeness, civility, that was all. But he watched her tilt her head slightly at something Greyson said, her lips curving in a manner far too gracious for his liking. She looked…engaged.
