“For consenting to being my wife.”
There went her heart again. Heat spread across her chest and, she was certain, brightened her ears, but she refused to break his gaze.
“Thank you for asking.”
* * *
The carriage rolledto a halt before the home of his betrothed—Christ, what a thought—and Jasper stepped out. Maria’s equipage stopped just behind his, and he watched as she descended the step.
She’d scarcely spoken a word after introducing his new staff and, despite himself, he rather missed her incisive, pithy commentary.
He gave her a grin while offering his arm. “Shall we?”
“I’m ready, yes.” She returned his smile with a small one of her own. That quirk of her lips drew his gaze…and sped his pulse.
“Darling!” The shrill voice of a woman came from the opened doorway, and Jasper immediately noted the stiffening of Maria’s spine and tightening of her jaw. “Come in, come in!”
Turning his smile toward Mrs. Roberts, Jasper made the first step, leading Maria into the warm house.
The foyer was small and decorated in a vibrant floral pattern that covered nearly every surface. It appeared as though they’d found a rug whose pattern they found pleasing, and spread it to the walls, upholstery, and stair runner.
“My, Your Grace, it is so delightful to see you again!” Mrs. Roberts squealed, dipping into a deep curtsey and struggling to rise.
Jasper sketched a short bow. “Indeed, madam.”
Her grey-streaked brown hair was done elaborately with curls and ribbons, without the mobcap that most married women were wont to wear at home. Her cheeks were sallow and her jaw thin—not at all like Maria’s—her nose narrow and pointy, and her skin tinged red, as though she’d imbibed too much sherry. Her eyes, however, were very similar to Maria’s, though lacking in their depth and personality.
“My!” Mrs. Roberts’ hand fluttered to her wrinkled chest. “We’re honoured to have you pay us a visit. Won’t you join us for tea in the parlour?” She gestured toward a hallway leading off the end of the foyer.
“As a matter of fact, Mrs. Roberts, I had rather hoped to speak with your husband. Is Mr. Roberts at home?”
Her eyes widened, and an unrestrained squeal escaped her. She flapped her hands about. “Of course, of course! Do come this way.”
Maria offered him an apologetic glance as they strode through the corridors, presumably to her father’s study.
The man stood at their entrance, and his brown eyes filled with avarice at their introductions. Jasper braced himself while simultaneously smiling and making pleasantries. This was the sort of man of whom he must beware. He didn’t appear to be careless with his funds, but he clearly desired more, and saw Jasper as his opportunity for financial gain.
Little did the man know that the dukedom was only just recovering from being very nearly destitute. Maria was aware of the circumstance, of course, the truth having come out when they had faced off against Miles and Francis those weeks ago. As it happened, however, the reason for his family’s misfortune was due to his father’s steward’s connection to Mr. Sinclair—Francis and Miles’ father. The steward had been pilfering from the dukedom’s coffers and lining his and Mr. Sinclair’s pockets for sodding years. The problem, of course, had been corrected, and the estate was now paying for itself, but to recover fully and refill the entirety of his coffers could take years.
And still…even knowing the truth, Maria had agreed to his proposal. The rest of thehaut tonsaw him not as a man but as a title and money. But Maria sawhim.
While his stomach erupted in sudden, absurd nerves, Jasper took his seat in front of Mr. Roberts’ desk, and the man himself behind it. Maria and her mother hovered near the door, which struck him as odd. He would rather Maria sat at his side, though he supposed most fathers would hold the meeting privately. Would they not? Hell if Jasper knew; he’d never asked for a woman’s hand in marriage before.
He took a deep breath, filling his lungs with the scent of old brandy and parchment. He noted, rather amazedly, that not a single book sat upon the bookshelves lining the walls.
“I’ll not prevaricate,” Jasper said, launching into the point of his visit. “I wish to request your blessing for Maria’s hand in marriage.”
A disconcerting choking sound, followed by another of Mrs. Roberts’ squeals, came from behind him.
“Of course!” The man beamed triumphantly, his long face sharpening. “But, naturally, we must discuss her dowry. At her age, I’m afraid that it isn’t much. We’d quite lost hope, you see.”
Jasper put up a hand to halt the man. “That is not necessary, I assure you. Maria will want for nothing.”
He leaned forward to shake the man’s outstretched hand, and stood. That had been rather swifter than he’d imagined.
“Oh!” Mrs. Roberts fluttered. “Won’t you stay for supper?”
CHAPTER7
