After breakfast, Jasper sat in his study and stared at stacks of papers and correspondences on his desk that required his attention. He had to continue going through the particulars of his properties so he would know what to bequeath to whom, but his head pounded as angrily as the devil.
His eyes found the decanter that rested on a table at one end of the room, but he ground his teeth and shook the thought away. He should not indulge in such, especially since liquor was the cause of his troubles this morning.
A knock came at the door then, and he thought he might have found salvation from the task that awaited him. Anything that could draw his attention away was welcome. “Enter!” he answered, wincing at the effort he put forth to be heard.
Smith walked in, then stood to the side to allow a foreman bearing a tray to enter and set it down on a small table by the same chair Natalie sat in the night she had visited him. Jasper allowed a tiny smile, both at the memory and at the sight of the bowl that contained the horrid stew Smith always had made for him when he drank excessively. It was an effective cure, but it tasted like a swamp.
“Where would I be without you, Smith?” he asked once the footman had left, rising and walking over to the soup. “I was just thinking of where to find relief.”
“And you did not send for me, Your Grace?” Smith quipped as he moved some papers about the desk to make space for the box he placed atop it.
“I do not particularly enjoy this infernal soup,” Jasper returned, wrinkling his nose at the green concoction.
“I am well aware of that, Your Grace,” Smith smiled slyly, “and you are most welcome.”
Jasper chuckled. It was like this every time Smith brought him the soup. He would say all manner of things about it, but once he ate and felt better, he would thank Smith. “What is that?” he asked, referring to the box on his desk.
“The items you requested, Your Grace.”
Jasper set down the soup and strode back to the desk, opening the box immediately. Sitting on a bed of satin was the most magnificent mask he had ever laid eyes upon. Smiling, he picked it up and ran his thumbs along the ivory satin.
"May I ask who the mask is for, Your Grace?" Smith inquired, his curious gaze darting from the mask to Jasper’s face and back.
"It is mine, of course," Jasper replied, still staring at the mask before him, positively in awe.
"I beg Your Grace’s pardon?" Smith blinked, then stared at him as though he had just declared it the end of the world. "But it is—"
"A woman's?" Jasper supplied, grinning brilliantly as he enjoyed the look of bewilderment on his valet’s face. When the man nodded, Jasper added, "I am paying for it; ergo, it is mine."
Smith's puzzlement quickly dissolved into understanding, and he smiled. Jasper went on to instruct him regarding what he planned to do with the mask, then he wrote a note and handed it to him to deliver to Natalie.
Chapter 14
Mayhap the reason we have not uncovered the Masked Rogue’s identity is that we relish the ignorance. Who would we speak of in hushed whispers if England’s greatest mystery is solved? Yes, Lord Mansfield and Lord Peckhart’s gaming misfortunes are diverting, but nothing could save us from ennui if the Rogue is found and the matter closed.
“Natalie.”
She raised her head from the lace she was sewing onto a hem to see George in the drawing room doorway. “Yes?”
“May we speak in my study?”
Her stomach flipped despite the fair mood that her cousin appeared to be in. They only spoke in his study when they did not want Hannah to hear them.
“Of course,” Natalie answered, setting her task down and gaining her feet.
She followed him to the study, and as soon as he closed the door, he said, “I played piquet with Amsthorne.”
This declaration caused her insides to knot, but she took a breath and continued to regard him. If he was smiling, then he surely could not have lost. However, Jasper—or rather, the Masked Rogue—had a reputation for never losing a game.
“I won,” he announced, and her breath gushed, releasing the tension in her body. “But the momentary victory is not the reason for my good spirits but the recognition received at the club. I made some very useful acquaintances, and two of these gentlemen are willing to conduct business with me.”
“Oh, George!” Natalie took both of his hands and smiled. “This is marvelous news!”
“Indeed!” Her cousin’s grin was bright and unobstructed. “If all goes well, and I find someone willing to invest in the factory, then we would not have to sell the house and move to the country, Natalie.” They would be closer to Hannah, too, if she married Wessberg.
The door opened at that instant, and Hannah walked in, her eyebrows furrowed. “George, did I hear you say, ‘sell the house and move?’” His face colored ever so slightly while Natalie pressed her lips together. “Are you selling the house, Brother?” Hannah asked again, closing the door.
“Well, in light of our diminishing fortune, it is something Natalie and I considered,” George replied.
