But where’s the fun in that?While he wished his cousin a great deal of pain, he intended for the man to suffer for some time. A slow smile curved his lips.Indeed.He would play with this mouse. And in the end, Francis would prevail. The dukedom would be his.
* * *
The lightof predawn peeking between Jasper’s bedchamber curtains cast shadows along the walls and ceiling. His gaze idly traced the lines, stretching over every imperfection.
It was nearly time to rise, and while he’d been to bed early enough, he’d struggled to remain asleep after his clock chimed three. He blamed Maria. Maria, and her determined search for abiddableand soddingbeddablehusband…and his body’s bewildering reaction to the revelation. He’d never felt such a disagreeable mix of boorish possession and irrational ire in his life. It was impossible for him to trulypossessthe woman—despite what many men of his station were wont to believe—but his body hadn’t considered that fact when it reacted so viscerally the previous night.
The pre-dawn light shining through his curtains grew brighter as he pondered his impossible feelings. Why did the thought of Maria Roberts finding a man to marry cause him such revulsion? They’d maintained a mild flirtation, and ever since she’d first rebuffed his request for a dance all those years ago, he’d noted a desire to learn more about her. Surely that was naught but idle curiosity.
There was no denying that she was a beautiful woman with a fiery passion for justice. Since they were young, Maria had frequently been the arbiter of his and Juliana’s disputes. Of course, a great deal of her admirable courage and determination was inopportune, which often put them at odds.
His chest squeezed. She clearly detested him—or at the very least considered him the irritating elder brother of her close friend. For she’d never hidden her distaste.
Perhaps it wasn’t jealousy at all that he’d felt the previous night. She was a dear friend of his sister; mayhap he merely wished her well, and he knew that Asham wouldn’t be the man she deserved. But he rejected the thought with a frown. If she were another woman, Jasper would not object to Asham’s pursual—he likely wouldn’t even take notice. It was that she was Maria, that she was strong and vibrant. And he’d begun to find himself attracted to her.
The allure of her striking physical attributes, however, was not alone enough to inspire such feelings, for he’d known many a handsome woman and had never before experienced this.
A gusty sigh escaped him as he ran a hand over his face.
After his abysmal attempt at protecting Juliana—damn, but that truly was an ill-conceived plan—had led her to flee through the English countryside while being pursued by Miles, Jasper could not abide being responsible for another person. And that was exactly what marriage entailed. Hell, even the thought of it put a pang of anxiety in his chest.
He had tenants and staff, of course, but relied heavily on his steward to manage those properties. His father had raised him to be a duke but had been negligent in his own role, leaving Jasper with debt and concerns that he was ill-equipped to bear.
Of course, he and his new steward had worked tirelessly with his tenant farmers to recover their crop and cattle yields. And, even now, the dukedom’s coffers were beginning to see growth. But,hell, someone among his household staff had permitted Francis access to his home! His gut sank. It was proof that he oughtn’t be responsible for others, for he couldn’t even maintain loyalty within his own household.
He heaved another sigh.
Even should he make the attempt with Maria, he might make the same mistake with her that he had with Juliana. She, of course, wouldn’t stand for his being high-handed. Given their long-standing acquaintance, Maria knew him better than any other woman of theton—aside from Juliana—and even she found him lacking.
Nerves and uncertainty fluttered low in his belly. If she was bound by duty to marry anyway, would his offer be the superior choice? Or would she feel as though he’d forced her hand?
Damn, but it was a terrible muddle. And entirely vexing.
The sunlight was now shining through his curtains brightly enough for him to watch the dust motes dancing along the air. Jasper tossed his bedclothes aside and stood. His yawn misted his eyes and he swiftly blinked the moisture away.
Turning toward the table with his washbasin, his breath caught and his heart jumped into a staccato rhythm.
“What the hell?”
Where his washbasin had been, there was now a pile of coats. His gaze travelled over the remaining furniture in his bedchamber, and his trepidation expanded like a balloon of hot air, rising until it would surely burst and send him falling to his death. Every book, penknife, bit of parchment, personal possession, and article of clothing had been carefully removed from its proper place and strewn over every surface.
His writing desk, wardrobe, chaise and armchair, dressing table, and privacy screen were entirely covered with his belongings. His chest of drawers, however, was bare but for one thing: standing erect from deep within its wood was a dagger, holding a note in place.
“Fuck.” Francis had beenin his sodding room! He’d moved everything about, and Jasper had bloody well slept through it.Fucking hell. Francis could easily have murdered Jasper in his sleep.
With sure steps, and dread pounding in his heart, Jasper searched his scattered belongings until he found and donned a pair of gloves—the third pair lost to these letters.
He couldn’t tell the women about the intimacy of this incident. And he couldn’t tell them just how terrified it made him. It was…jarring to be faced with his mortality not once but twice in less than four-and-twenty hours. And the women would no doubt find a way to put themselves in greater danger on his behalf. That, he could not abide.
With trembling fingers and a burst of force, Jasper tugged the dagger free and carefully slid the parchment from the blade. The faint scent of bitter almonds reached his nose, and he grimaced. The bastard had used laurel water again.
He opened the letter.
But I have,sir, a sOn by order of law
some year elder than this…
A curious mixtureof anger and fear rushed through him. Francis had not only been in his home but in his private quarters. It sent a very clear message.
