“No,” Greyson said. “And I do not intend to become accustomed to it.”
Jasper’s mouth twitched in the beginnings of a smile he did not quite allow to form. “In that case,” he informed Greyson, “we need the whole gang.”
Greyson frowned. “The…gang?”
Jasper nodded decisively. “Robert. Mason. Myself.” He was already reaching for his coat. “I will gather them. We shall convene at my house this evening.”
Greyson’s frown deepened. “Absolutely not. I will not make a spectacle of myself.”
Jasper paused mid-motion, considering him. “A shame. Spectacles can be very effective.”
“I am serious,” Greyson said. “This is not some lighthearted misadventure. I will not be paraded before your drawing room like a problem to be solved.”
Jasper merely shrugged and reached the door. “All right, then.”
Greyson blinked. “All right?” he repeated incredulously. “I actually convinced you to change your mind and leave me alone in my misery?”
Jasper turned back with a grin that Greyson instantly distrusted. “Of course not.”
Greyson’s suspicion deepened. “Then what are you doing?”
Jasper opened the door wide. “We are all coming here.”
Greyson stared. “Tomyhouse?”
“Yes,” Jasper said cheerfully. “Your house, your study, your despair. Much more dramatic.”
Greyson pinched the bridge of his nose. “You are impossible.”
“And you,” Jasper replied lightly, “are in love and therefore unfit to make unilateral decisions.”
Greyson lowered his hand. “I do not require an audience.”
“You require perspective,” Jasper said, already halfway down the corridor. “And possibly a strategy that does not involve brooding until she forgets you entirely.”
Greyson exhaled sharply, torn between irritation and reluctant relief. “If you tell anyone I am grateful?—”
“I will deny it vehemently,” Jasper called back.
Left alone for a moment, Greyson stared at the door, the study once more heavy with the echo of Hazel’s absence.
For the first time since she had left, he did not feel entirely alone in the fight to bring her back.
And that, however grudgingly, felt like a start.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
“Itistrue, then?”
Hazel looked up from where she sat by the window, the late afternoon light catching in the porcelain teacups arranged before them. Matilda stood nearest, Cordelia hovered just behind her, barely containing her curiosity, while Evelyn watched from the sofa with the calm attentiveness of someone who had learned when to listen first.
Hazel inclined her head. “I am not returning to Callbury, not at present.”
Matilda hesitated. “Jasper said… well.” She smiled faintly, apologetic already. “Is it true you have separated from your husband?”
Hazel’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Jasper already knows?”
Matilda sighed. “You know Jasper. He cannot keep his mouth shut. It is his curse.” A pause, then she added fondly, “and his charm.”
