The sight sent a flare of heat through him, sharp and unreasoning.
Polite, yes, but her smile was real enough. Greyson’s heavy, deliberate manner did not seem to chafe her. She walked beside him with ease as though she had no care in the world.
Jasper’s jaw tightened.
He had seen her laugh,trulylaugh, in the library. He had seen her cheeks flushed with fire when they sparred. That fire belonged withhim; it was not to be wasted on Greyson’s cold, tedious conversation.
And yet here she was: smiling, listening and indulging him as though he deserved it.
Jasper leaned a little closer to the glass. He could feel his entire chest storming. He searched her face, desperate to catch the flicker of irony he knew so well, or some trace of impatience beneath her politeness. But he found none. There was only composure, only that smile that should have been his victory.
He swore under his breath and dragged a hand through his hair, turning from the window with a sharp jerk.
It was nothing, nothing at all. Greyson was dull as a ledger, incapable of inspiring more than polite interest. Matilda must surely see it.
And yet, the image of her walking beside the duke lingered like a splinter beneath his skin, and he could not shake the sense that if he did not act, he might lose something he had no right to claim.
Chapter Thirty
When the others turned back toward the house, Matilda let herself lag behind. She pretended to pause over a late rose, with its petals bruised by autumn’s chill, but in truth, she wanted the quiet. Cordelia, in her eagerness, hardly noticed, and Hazel, ever watchful, cast Matilda one considering glance before allowing her space. Soon the chatter faded toward the terrace, leaving Matilda alone in the garden.
She drew her shawl more tightly about her shoulders and wandered a few steps down the gravel path. The air scented faintly of damp earth and the last of the blossoms. It was peaceful and soothing, precisely what she needed after days hemmed in by people, by laughter, by Jasper Everleigh’s laughter most of all.
Her thoughts, as they so often did of late, turned to the nunnery.
She had told herself it was the right course… perhaps theonlycourse. A quiet life, stripped of society’s expectations, free fromthe snares of men and their fickle affections. A life of usefulness, of devotion, where she might at last be safe from her own wayward heart.
Yes. It was sensible. She had made the mistake once of believing in love, in happily-ever-after. The scars of that folly still marked her, and she would not risk such ruin again.
And yet, her breath caught as she recalled the library, his teasing drawl, the way laughter had burst from her despite herself. The warmth of his eyes as he’d looked at her with the baby in his arms. The spark between them in the quadrille, sharp as fire and just as consuming.
Confusion wrapped around her like a net. What was it about him that unsettled her so? He was a rake, a charmer. Every lady in the room turned her head when he passed, and he obliged them all with his careless smile. It was nothing unique, nothing personal.
She pressed her hand against her heart as though to still its unrest.
He was like this witheveryone, with every girl. She was not special. She could not be.
Matilda drew herself up, feeling her resolve settling once more. The nunnery remained the only safe answer and the only choice untouched by folly.
Gravel crunched softly behind her. Matilda did not turn at once, assuming it was Evelyn come to collect her.
“I am heading back to the house,” she called out without turning around. “The air grows chilly.”
But the reply was not Evelyn’s gentle tones.
“Then allow me to walk with you.”
Matilda froze. It was Jasper Everleigh’s voice, warm and too near.
Her heart gave an unwelcome lurch, and she forced a sigh to cover it. The weight of her earlier thoughts clung heavily, leaving her too weary for their usual skirmishes. She turned at last, having already schooled her expression, though her eyes betrayed her fatigue.
“Have you come,” she asked flatly, “to tease me further about my book?”
He stood a few paces behind, his hands clasped loosely behind his back, his gaze unusually steady. No smirk, no glitter of triumph.
“No,” he said quietly. “I came to apologize.”
Matilda blinked, stunned. Of all the words she had expected from his lips, those were the last. For a moment, she only stared, uncertain whether to believe him, her breath caught between disbelief and something far more dangerous.
