He moved to the sideboard and poured another measure. The glass trembled faintly in his hand. He told himself it was the brandy.
Then came the knock.
It was a single, firm rap against the door, but enough to startle him. He turned, frowning. It was too late for servants and too soon for the house to have quieted. The music below still carried to prove that.
“Come in,” he called, setting the glass down.
The door opened slowly.
For the briefest instant, some desperate, foolish part of him hoped that it might be her, that she had come, against her better judgment, to say the things they both had left unsaid.
But it wasn’t her.
“Your Grace.”
Lady Isabelle Fairleigh stood framed in the doorway. Only a blind man could not notice how the candlelight caught the shimmer of her hair and the daring cut of her gown. She smiled in the way of a woman who had never once been denied. Yet, despite all pf that, his expression darkened momentarily.
“Lady Isabelle,” he said curtly. “It’s late.”
She stepped inside, closing the door behind her with a small, decisive click.
“So it is,” she purred. “And yet you are awake.”
He set his glass down with care. “I was about to retire.”
She drifted closer, and her sickly sweet perfume filled the room. “You’ve been brooding all evening. I could see it from across theballroom. Everyone could.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “I thought perhaps you might appreciate a little company.”
“Your concern is unnecessary,” he said, keeping his tone even.
“Unnecessary?” she echoed, feigning hurt. “Oh, but I hate to see you troubled. I know how heavy things weigh on you. All that honor, all that restraint…” She took another step closer, and he could almost feel the scent of her perfume gripping him by the throat. “Surely even you need a reprieve.”
Before he could step back, she lifted a hand and brushed her fingers lightly over his chest. “I can give you that reprieve,” she murmured, her breath warm against his throat. “You need only ask.”
Jasper’s reaction was instinctive. He caught her wrist, not roughly, but firmly enough that she stilled, and then stepped back, putting space between them.
“Enough, Lady Isabelle.”
She blinked, and her smile immediately faltered. “Enough?”
He released her. “You should not be here.”
She tilted her head, still trying to recover her composure. “Why not? We both know what you are, Your Grace. You’ve never been one to cling to appearances.”
“Then you’ve been paying poor attention.” He warned her. “Whatever you’ve imagined, I assure you it isn’t this.”
Her eyes narrowed faintly. “You cannot mean to play the saint now. Not after all your—” She stopped short, watching him with confusion as he moved past her toward the door.
“Go back downstairs, Lady Isabelle,” he said quietly. “Before someone sees you here.”
She laughed in a thin, brittle sound that used to satisfy him. “And what if they did? Perhaps it would be good for you to be seen with someone who actuallywantsyou.”
He turned sharply at that, and for the first time, she seemed startled by what she saw in his face. There was no anger. Justdisgust.
“Do not ever presume to know what I want.”
He brushed past her, opened the door, and held it wide. “Goodnight, Lady Isabelle.”
For a moment she stood motionless, her cheeks flushed with more than embarrassment. Then, gathering what dignity she could, she lifted her chin and swept past him into the corridor. He shut the door behind her, the latch clicking into silence.
