“Cordelia,” Hazel said dryly, “not everyone enjoys being the evening’s entertainment.”
“Everyone enjoys being admired,” Cordelia countered, giving Matilda a wink. “Even if they pretend not to.”
Matilda smiled, though her pulse fluttered as the waiting carriage came into view. Two glossy bays pawed at the gravel, and the coachman stood ready. The autumn sunlight was clear and warm, and the estate glittered with quiet expectation, just as the ladies did themselves. Matilda placed one slippered foot on the step, then suddenly stilled.
“Oh, wait,” she said quickly.
Hazel glanced over. “What is it?”
“My gloves,” Matilda said, though it was not entirely true. “I left them in my room. You get settled in, I’ll only be a moment.”
Cordelia frowned. “Shall I send someone?”
“No need,” Matilda said, already turning back toward the house. “Truly, I shan’t be long.”
“Don’t make us late!” Cordelia called after her.
Matilda waved a hand over her shoulder as she stepped back into the house. Inside, everything seemed suddenly still. The sunlight fell in golden patches through the high windows, painting the marble floor in soft light. Everything seemed to conspire to make this into a most beautiful day.
She wasn’t entirely sure why she had turned back. It wasn’t the gloves. She realized that the instant she crossed the threshold of her chamber again. They lay neatly folded upon the dressing table where she had left them, waiting with calm indifference.
No, she had needed a moment to steady herself.
She pressed her palms to the edge of the table, staring at her reflection in the mirror once more. Her cheeks were still flushed, and her eyes were somehow too bright. Beneath all the satin and pearl, her heart was beating like a trapped bird.
What would she say when she saw him?
She inhaled deeply, grabbed her gloves and headed out of her chamber.
“I suppose we should go soon, Harrow,” Robert said, glancing at the clock. “Evelyn will have my head if I keep the vicar waiting.”
He was gathering a few last papers from his writing table. His expression bore that familiar mixture of composure and good humor that Jasper had always found enviable.
Jasper smiled faintly. “You’re a brave man to risk her displeasure even in jest.”
Robert chuckled. “I’ve endured worse than a scolding from my wife.” He straightened, tucking the papers neatly into a case. “Though I must admit, being married to Evelyn has made bravery a much pleasanter thing.”
Jasper looked at him, studying the ease with which he said it. The quiet certainty in his voice and the unguarded warmth in his eyes were unmistakable.
“You’re a lucky man,” Jasper said quietly.
Robert gave him a curious look. “Lucky, perhaps. But not undeserving, I hope.”
“I didn’t mean it as an insult.” Jasper leaned one shoulder against the window frame. “Only…” He paused, choosing the words carefully. “Only that I’ve never seen a man so content to be caught.”
Robert chuckled. “And yet you speak as though it’s a tragedy.”
Jasper looked away, watching the light spill across the lawns beyond. “A tragedy? No. Simply… foreign.”
There was a short silence, broken only by the tick of the mantel clock. Robert shut his case and crossed to the sideboard to pour himself a small glass of water.
“You’ve said before that marriage is not for you,” he said mildly. “But I’ve never quite understood why. You speak with such contempt of it, and yet…” He tilted his head. “And yet I think you envy it.”
Jasper scoffed, though there was no malice in it. “Perhaps. Though envy and desire are not the same.”
“Then tell me,” Robert said, settling into the armchair opposite. “Why is it, Harrow? You have everything a man could want: title, fortune, a name that commands respect. Why choose to live as if you owed the world nothing and expected nothing in return?”
Jasper turned from the window. For a moment he said nothing. This was neither the time nor the place for such talk, yet he couldn’t stop himself. He trusted Robert and he wanted him to understand. Then, slowly, he crossed the room and sat across from him.
