Amaid and footman entered the dining room carrying plates of what looked to Jasper like braised pigeons and potato pie. It was rather similar fare to what Jasper had been able to afford of late.
The scent of savoury spices reached his nose, replacing the scent of rolls and cream, which had been their first course, and his stomach growled in response. The first course had scarcely grazed the surface of his appetite.
From her seat at his right, Maria murmured her thanks to the maid as her meal was placed before her. A ripple of awareness and heat travelled up his arm and along his chest, as it had repeatedly done since they’d taken their seats. She was still abnormally sedate, though he could understand why. Her family seemed to delight in monopolizing the conversation.
“This is not our usual fare, Your Grace,” Mrs. Roberts was saying. “Nothing so homely. But our usual cook has taken ill and, well, we must accept what her replacement has prepared for us.”
“Oh, how awful for Mrs. Wells,” Maria breathed, her brow furrowed.
Mrs. Roberts sharpened her gaze on Maria. “Yes, well, she ought to take better care.”
Jasper lifted his fork and turned his attention to his plate.
“Have you been married before, Duke?” a voice trilled. Jasper noted that it was the sister with the dark brown hair and hawk-like nose—Augusta?
“Augusta!” Maria chided.
The young lady scowled at her sister, evidently unaware of the impropriety of the inquiry and familiar address. She then preened as she turned her flirtatious gaze back on Jasper.
He resisted the urge to frown, swallowing his bite of sweet potato pie. “I have not previously been married.”
Maria’s sisters eyed each other meaningfully from across the table, then both turned to gaze adoringly at him.
“Why did you choose Maria?” the other sister—Caroline—inquired, her nose wrinkled. “She’s dreadfully boring.”
Maria stiffened in her seat beside him.
“And old,” Augusta put in.
Jasper opened his mouth to refute their assertions, but Mrs. Roberts’ rebuke cut over him.
“Girls!” Masticated food sprayed from her mouth, and Jasper cringed.
Mr. Roberts turned to him with a brandy-hazed smile. “How pleasing it shall be to have a son at last.”
“Youhavea son, Papa,” Maria said firmly. “He?—”
“We have a guest, Maria.” Her mother’s frigid gaze had enough strength to send a chill down Jasper’s back.
He’d heard something about her brother, but damn him if he could recall what that was. Had he been injured in the war? Hell, he couldn’t remember. Would that he had paid attention when Juliana spoke of her friends, but for far too many years he’d shirked his role of brother and confidant.
This wasn’t the first time that his past poor attentiveness had impacted his present, and nor was it likely to be the last. But he now had the presence of mind to learn from his mistakes.
The servants swept through and removed his half-consumed plate. He wasn’t finished, his hunger only minimally appeased, but if it would conclude the meal, Jasper was content to let the food go.
Under the guise of adjusting the napkin on his lap, Jasper brushed the backs of his fingers over the side of Maria’s thigh in a show of unity.
Her breath caught, and his stomach swooped. He instantly wanted more of that delicious contact, but the moment was entirely inopportune.
He cleared his throat. “I look forward to spending more time in Maria’s company.”
Mrs. Roberts smiled at him. “I’m sure she feels the same.”
“Yes, yes,” Mr. Roberts added in between gulps of his brandy. “Perhaps she will spend fewer hours toiling away with her charity groups if she has a nice young man to dote on her.”
Charity. The word rolled through his mind as Miss Morgan’s words from the previous night came to him.Would you believe me if I informed you that Miss Roberts spends the entirety of her days doing charity work?…Aha! Gullible! Most men are utter fools, and will believe any nonsense that doesn’t challenge them.
He glanced down at Maria, who was suspiciously diverted by the silverware. With what, precisely, did she fill her days, if not charity and work as a runner? Was theremore?
