“Do you not want to drink, Auntie?”
She proffered the glass. “No, I do not. Would you like to have it?”
“Certainly,” he murmured and accepted it, gulping down half the contents. They conversed pleasantly for another hour before Phoebe retired, and he decided to call upon Oliver before proceeding to Minerva’s house. She lived on Bloomsbury Street and it was not far from Oliver’s residence.
He left the manor, and an hour later, he arrived at Oliver’s townhouse. He was shown into the game room where his friend was playing billiards. Oliver raised one eyebrow when he saw Jasper.
“I could not quite believe it when the butler told me you had arrived.”
“Why are you so surprised?” Jasper picked up a cue and chalked the tip.
“You rarely leave the manor after sundown.” Oliver rearranged the balls so they could play a new game.
“You were gone for two years, and a lot has changed in England, myself included.”
“Does that mean you will take a wife at last, so that you may give your dukedom an heir?”
“I believe there is an earldom in want of an heir, too,” Jasper shot back, and they laughed.
"I did not know that you were well acquainted with Lord Clifford," Oliver said after he earned the right to be the first player. “I must admit that I am rather surprised by that development.”
Jasper caught something odd in both Oliver’s tone and expression as he mentioned Clifford. It was difficult for him to discern what it was, but it curiously reminded him of the tension he had observed the night before.Puzzling.
“I think Clifford is agreeable, and he plays piquet excellently.”
“Do you already consider him a friend?” There was that oddness again. It was neither approval, nor disapproval, but it was strong enough for Jasper to take a great interest in.
“Yes, I do,” he replied. “Is there a particular reason you are asking?”
Oliver shook his head and gestured for him to take his turn. "Only curiosity, my friend. Clifford is, indeed, a good gentleman, and I enjoy doing business with him.”
A thought came to Jasper just then. It was something he had never thought, and it laid the way for unsettling questions to rise. Why was Clifford failing if he was a good man to do business with? Why was Oliver doing well and not the Earl? He pondered the wisdom of asking Oliver about this, but he decided not to. It was not his business—in a way.
He left Oliver’s house shortly after being outdone in the game and made his way to Minerva’s.
Chapter 26
Comtesse De Villepin is a very young woman. According to Baron Peckhart, she was made in the great image of Venus herself. Ladies and gentlemen, we now know to seek a beautiful red-haired woman. We are certain that once we find the Comtesse, we will find the Rogue.
Before Jasper went to Minerva’s house, he stopped at his townhouse to don the black attire that the Rogue was known to wear. He wore his black mask at the door and proceeded to his destination.
Minerva opened the door herself when he arrived, and she tilted her red head and regarded him with curious gray eyes. “Why should I allow you into my house, MR?”
Jasper gave her a lopsided smile. “I came to apologize, Minerva.”
“Liar.” She rolled her eyes and stepped away from the door, letting him through. Jasper looked about the dimly lit house and listened. It was very quiet. “There is no one here as you requested,” she said, locking the front door. Minerva came to stand in front of him, and he took in her appearance.
She was dressed to please him in a tight dress that seemed to hinder her breathing. Her bright red hair was heaped atop her head like a pyramid. Months ago, the sight of a woman dressed the way he wanted would have been enough to awaken his need, but his blood flowed slowly in his veins tonight.
He was here for a different reason. Minerva had been the only mistress he kept for more than three months, and he believed she could help him now. Like the others, she had never seen his face, and he had never stayed with her through the night.
She led him into a sitting room, and while he sat in a chair, she moved to a table where an arrangement of decanters sat.
“Are you still fond of gin?” she asked.
“That has not changed,” he replied.
She brought him the liquor and sat on the arm of his chair, touching his rigid shoulders. As her hand moved down his chest, he shook his head. Understanding, she moved to the chair opposite him, displeasure turning the corners of her mouth downward.
