Chapter 7
A woman was saved by the Masked Rogue last night at Hyde Park. We have good cause to believe that she is one of his mistresses. How quaint! Is this a clue about the existence of a heart?
Jasper sat at the breakfast table and glanced at the papers that had been set down for him. One was The Times, and the other was The Londoner. He picked up the latter with a broad grin. It was the paper he read every morning, for he enjoyed watching England speculate and attempt to unmask him.
One of the scoundrels told The Londoner everything. Yes, they reported themselves, but who would not when the Masked Rogue is involved? There was no one at Hyde Park at the hour to tell us what occurred after the Rogue chased the brigands away with a pistol, but we will find that woman, and she will lead us to our dear hero.
Jasper laughed. Yesterday's report called him a scoundrel, and now he was a hero. He wondered what he would be tomorrow. They will never find Natalie. He will make sure of it. Whoever wrote for The Londoner appeared to be obsessed with the Masked Rogue, and he found it most amusing. He set the paper down and filled a cup with coffee.
He raised his gaze when his aunt walked into the room, then he stopped what he was doing and rose, going to greet her. She turned her cheek away when he attempted to kiss it.
“Is something the matter?” he asked with a chuckle. She was trying to be angry with him.
Phoebe sat in the chair across from him at the round table, and he picked up a plate, filling it with everything he knew she would like. Then Jasper circled the table and set it down in front of her. She still did not respond, but her countenance shifted very slightly.
He returned to his seat and took a sip of coffee, studying her. After a while, he leaned back in his seat. “You are angry with me, Aunt Phoebe,” he said.
“Yes, I am,” she replied, piercing a sausage with her fork.
“Will you tell me what it is I did?” He started reaching for the paper but thought the better of it. Her mood might worsen if she saw him reading instead of listening to her. Jasper had an inkling of why she was like this.
“You did not walk with Miss Gilmore yesterday.”
I knew it!“I never promised I would come.”
“But you should have,” Phoebe countered petulantly.
“Is that the only thing?” Jasper raised one eyebrow.
“No,” his aunt straightened. “That was merely the introduction. You are not being entirely honest with me, Jasper. You leave the manor in the evenings and stay out for long hours. Your absence has worsened in the last several weeks, and you did not have dinner here yesterday.”
He closed his eyes and sighed. “I had business in town.”
“With your mistress?” she inquired, tilting her head.
“Does it matter with whom?”
“Yes, it does. You owe your title a debt, and I encourage you to pay it. Miss Gil—”
“I will pay my debt when the time is right, Auntie.” He rose and walked over to her, placing a hand on her shoulder. “We should not spoil a good morning with such conversations.”
“When is a better time to discuss?” She looked up at him with worried eyes.
“Certainly not today, Auntie.” He was in a good mood today, and he did not want anything to ruin it.
Phoebe took his hand and squeezed. “Whatever is troubling you, Jasper, you know you can tell me.”
She had never—and likely never would—believe what truly troubled him. He kissed the back of her hand. “Of course.” He returned to his seat and resumed his reading.
“Good heavens, Jasper!” Phoebe gasped a moment later. He looked up at her with a frown. “When will you stop reading that nonsense?”
“This?” He raised the gossip sheet.
“Society has infected you with its obsession. Honestly, I do not see the reason to follow one man and make life difficult for him.”
“And how do you know life is difficult for the Rogue?”
“He must be weary of reading about himself every day.”
