A sad smile tipped up her lips. “I’m glad.”
“But you never gave me what I asked.” She tilted her head questioningly. “Miss Fortune, will you grant me your forgiveness?”
That sad smile stretched into something more comforting. “Of course, Jasper. How could I not?”
And once again the music slowed to a halt. One more dance in the set, and then he’d bid her farewell. They could go their separate ways and with no regrets to muddy their magical memory. He did not relinquish his hold on her as they awaited the next song. And then he flicked his glance to the terrace.
“Would you care to take a turn in the garden?”
Magic.
Without warning, the urge to make an escape became all too powerful for Jasper to ignore. It must be the overwhelming scent of the flower arrangements, combined with all the ladies’ perfumes.
And the heat. Both from perspiring bodies and hundreds of burning candles.
Because he didn’t wait for Miss Fortune to answer, he took her by the arm instead and practically dragging her off the shining floor.
Cool air hit him immediately as he opened the door.
“But my sister––“ She began to protest with only the slightest resistance. Then she seemed to change her mind and closed the door behind them.
A handful of gentlemen stood near the edged pavement, smoking cigars and chatting. Jasper recognized most of them. They were escaping their wives and the banal conversations inside.
He acknowledged them with a curt nod but then turned in the opposite direction. He had no wish to introduce Matilda Fortune to them in that moment.
How would he explain away a young woman whom he was taking away from the protection of chaperones and parents in order to have her to himself?
Once out of earshot, he exhaled a relieved sigh. “I’m not ready for any of this.” Had he really admitted that out loud?
She reached up with her free hand and squeezed his wrist. He appreciated that she didn’t deign to offer encouragement, or probe as to why. Instead, his words simply hung in the air for both of them to examine. He hated how self–pitying they sounded.
As the path narrowed, he drew her closer so she wouldn’t be scratched by encroaching branches.
“After Mama and Papa’s funerals, I tried to go on with my life as though nothing had changed, as though their death was just another obstacle for me to get over… And it seemed to work for a while. I threw myself into my schooling and admonished Betsy and Chloe for failing to do likewise.
“What I failed to realize was that my refusal to grieve created an even greater pain for them. When I came home from school for the holidays, the magnitude of our loss finally hit home. We sat down to dine, my sisters and my aunt. And I turned to the head of the table where my father had always sat… And he wasn’t there.
“It was Christmas and my Mama and Papa would not be a part of it.” She made a small laughing sound as though to dismiss her sentimentality.
“It was the first time I’d cried since their death. And then Betsy broke down, and Chloe… and poor little Charlotte. She was practically still a baby.
“With our tears, though, we realized we had one another. It was a horrid Christmas, but as long as we had each other, we could endure almost anything…” Another disparaging laugh. “I’m sorry to go on so… My point is… You lost your wife. You mustn’t force yourself to move on if you aren’t yet prepared.”
Jasper contemplated her sad tale. Was it possible he yet grieved for Estelle?
They had been walking toward the center of the garden and the sounds of gushing water grew louder as they approached the large fountain. The moon reflected off the rippling pool and a gentle breeze stirred the leaves and branches with like a gentle caress.
The setting could not have been more romantic in any way.
Miss Fortune dropped his arm and stepped forward to gaze up at the cascading spray.
He couldn’t help but study her closely, hoping to understand what about this woman attracted him so.
Her chestnut hair had been styled in a flattering manner, and her gown showed off her rounded figure to advantage. On anyone else…
But she was not anyone else. She was Tilde.
“Tell me something of your life.” He wanted to know more about her. In many ways, she was practically a complete stranger to him. “Is your home in Rotter’s Creekbottom?”
