Jasper halted and spun around, forcing the two women to draw up short. Unreasonable anger burned in his belly and fisted his hands. “What do you mean?”
With a glance about for eavesdroppers, Juliana leaned close and whispered, “Maria is…closeto Mr. Mystery. Heather merely suggested that Maria come to an agreement with the man, but Maria made the excellent point that, er, Maria’s parents would not approve. Heather disagrees.”
Wordswanted to spill forth from his mouth, but he clamped his lips together and spun on his heel to prowl through the throng once more.Jealous. The word buzzed around his head as he moved. He was sodding jealous. Butwhy, for God’s sake?
Another flash of lavender caught his eye, and he turned his attention to the dancers. There she was, smiling charmingly at some prat as they danced the waltz. How in the bloody hell had she gotten a man to seek her hand so quickly?
* * *
Keepingher smile as genuine as possible, Maria clasped the baronet, Sir Asham, by the forearm and allowed him to guide her to the refreshments table. Despite the man’s unfortunate name—it reminded her dreadfully of burnt supper—he was an entirely acceptable, if tiresome, companion.
The poor man was known to seek the hand of at least one maiden per season, but he had been spurned by all of them. Nearing his fiftieth year, he was still youthful enough to sire children but old enough that he would not be overbearing in their rearing. He had a pleasing—if perpetually confused—disposition, but was appallingly incapable of carrying on a conversation. His complexion was enduringly ruddy, but he had a full head of dark hair and pleasing brown eyes.
She’d never considered the man as a potential suitor before, and likely never would have if her parents hadn’t demanded that she marry. But Sir Asham had responded to her brief flirtation, and she was very nearly guaranteed a proposal from the man if she gave him any sort of encouragement.
Her heart gave a squeeze and her stomach a sad wobble, but she brushed the feelings aside. She hadn’t a choice in this matter, drat it.
But surely there is someone morefittingwith whom to spend my time?her inner voice whispered. Despite herself, her gaze slid across the ballroom to where Jasper stood with Heather and Juliana, his darkened gaze catching hers…and his attire still alarmingly damp. His eyes looked troubled.No.Angry?Whatever the emotion was, it sent an inappropriately heated quiver through her middle.
He’d nearly died that very evening.I almost lost him. But no. He wasn’t hers, and yet…
Her stomach twisted, and nerves danced up her arms and down her legs. She and Jasper had faced danger before—both together and separately—but what if Francis’ intent was no longer just emotional torment? What if the next time they crossed paths, Francis followed through on his threats?
No. She couldn’t countenance such a thought. Their replacements for his staff were, even at this moment, assembling and would soon be securing his home as a safe space.
Sir Asham patted the hand that rested upon his arm as they navigated the crush.Marriage. She suppressed a sigh, her thoughts drawing once more to Jasper.
Her unruly heart fluttered.I cannot pursue Jasper, she reminded herself.
While ten years was indeed a lengthy time to hold a grudge over his wager, it was not the only indiscretion of the duke’s that prevented her from allowing her obstinate feelings to flourish. His initial handling of the concern over his cousins, his rush to see Juliana married—which had forced her to flee him entirely—and his subsequent lack of confidence in the women’s capabilities with regard to this assignment were disheartening indeed.
And yet her pulse still quickened whenever she was near him…or saw him…or indeed whenever shethoughtof the dratted man.
And I almost lost him. Her heart squeezed painfully once more. The man might be irksome, but he was also… She sighed. He was alsoJasper.
They reached the refreshments table, and Sir Asham thrust a cup at her. “Punch.”
Maria smiled graciously and accepted the proffered drink. “Thank you for the lovely dance.”
His ears pinkened. “Yes, thank you. Er, you as well. To be sure.” He rose up on his toes, his ears increasing in redness. “Quite right.”
“I do hope that the weather improves.” She took a sip of the punch. It was nearly tasteless it was so watered-down, but it was a relief from the heat of the room.
“Uh, yes. Quite. I bought a new curricle that I’d hoped to drive.”
“That sounds rather lovely.”
“W-would you care to join me? Wednesday, perhaps?”
She smiled at him.No. “I would, thank you.”
He beamed, his ears a full tomato red.
The strains of a quadrille began, and his eyes bulged. “Oh! I had better— I must seek my dance partner.”
“And I shall return to my friends. Thank you again, Sir Asham.” She grinned, watching him fumble his way through the crush as she steadfastly resisted the urge to tug discomfitingly at her bodice. The man was hopeless, but perfectly ideal for her purposes.
* * *
