They could not go on like this, surely? Perhaps that was why he’d chosen to send her and the children away. Or perhaps she was wrong about all of it. Perhaps she’d only imagined that his looks held passion and longing.
Conceivably, he regretted the liberties they’d taken with one another at the ball last week. And his mother was not a villain at all… She was merely the messenger. If so, then his message was loud and clear. Tilde meant nothing more to him than any other person in his employ.
Shuffling sounds drifted over from the girls’ room next door, forcing Tilde to put the matter from her mind.
She’d promised them a walk in the park with Peaches. It was exactly what Tilde needed as well. The tension in this house could be too much to stand at times. She set Peaches on the floor and together they went through the adjoining door to assist the girls in preparing to go out. Only a few clouds hovered in the sky. Even if rain fell down in droves Tilde would have insisted on this outing.
The urge for fresh air seemed more pressing than ever.
Jasper tipped his hat to one of his mother’s friend as she passed him on the sidewalk. He’d sent John Coachman ahead, preferring to walk this afternoon. Session had adjourned early and for the first time that week he found some time to himself. On impulse, he crossed the road and entered the park. Since it was early, all of society had yet to have descended upon the popular venue in which one went to see and be seen.
He ought to have ridden home in the coach so that he could spend the afternoon tackling the reports he’d received from the estate manager at Warwick Place. Also awaiting him was the new bill Lord Fitzhume had asked him to support.
And yet.
He kicked a stone that appeared in the path at his feet.
Having Miss Fortune for the girls’ governess was turning into a special form of torture for him. Without fail, she sat at her desk working vigilantly when he visited the nursery, seemingly intent upon sabotaging all of his efforts to ignore her.
Brushing her hair from her cheek.
Sighing breathily.
Licking her lips.
Touching her chin.
Throughout all of it, Jasper had done his best to not allow his gaze to linger on her for too long. Fighting whatever this was between them was proving to be exhausting. She haunted his dreams incessantly, and it was even worse when he lay in bed awake. Knowing she slept under the same roof, imagining her in nothing but a night rail, and then less. The temptation to go to her left him clutching himself beneath the sheets like a randy youth.
He’d caught up with the stone he kicked, retrieved it with his hand, and sent it flying up into the treetops. If he returned to his house that very moment, he’d do something inappropriate. God help him.
At the same time, Eloise was smiling more and Althea was more animated than he could ever remember seeing her. He could not jeopardize losing her services.
He was walking through a copse of trees and had thought himself quite all alone. But then he heard the laughter of children’s voices. And a sharp excited barking sound, and then, “Peaches. Come back here this instance!”
Miss Fortune.
Everything rational in his brain urged him to turn around and make for home. He could spend his afternoon being productive without the distraction of knowing her to be under the same roof.
And yet his legs strode purposely in the direction of the blanket spread out upon the grass.
“Papa!” Eloise caught sight of him and was holding a cluster of flowers in the air. “Look, we’ve made crowns out of dandelions! Have you come to join us for tea? Look Miss Fortune, Papa’s come to join us.”
Jasper’s breath caught in his throat when his daughters’ governess turned to look at him. With a wreath of flowers propped upon her head, her eyes danced with laughter and her smile came easily. He caught her gaze with his own, and held it, lost in the depths of greens and browns.
Until something flickered behind there, and she glanced downward. When she lifted her chin again, she scowled in disapproval. “Good afternoon, Lord Willoughby. If you’ve come to fetch the twins for another of your mother’s at homes, then I must object. Your daughters are twins, yes, but little girls were not created so that they could be paraded in front of a bunch of windbags and gossips for an afternoon’s entertainment.”
Althea had come running up to him, along with the dog on a leading string. She wound her frail looking arms around his leg and made a seat of his foot.
“Hello, sweetheart.” He patted the top of her head. Confused at Miss Fortune’s accusations, he limped cautiously toward the scowling lady.
“Good afternoon to you as well, Miss Fortune.” And then he bowed. To his governess. “And what are you going on about? My mother is doing what?”
That was when Miss Fortune really let him have it. But as her complaint became clear to him, he found himself in full agreement with her agitation, and adamantly informed her that under no condition did he support such a ridiculous practice.
His mother knew of Althea’s reticence around other people. He was _ that she would require the girls to leave their school room in order for her guests to gape and stare.
“I will speak with her,” he spoke through gritted teeth. “You have my word.”
