Why hadn’t she considered any of this? But he was right. She could not seek refuge with Goldie and her husband without bringing trouble to their door.
Wherever she went, she would be a liability.
Jasper scrubbed a hand down his face. “You don't need to decide now."
Nia stared out the window as the extent of his plan became clear. “We’re heading north. To Gretna Green?"
“Yes."
But marriage? She couldn’t keep doing this, going from groom to groom much as she wore a different gown each day.
Furthermore, she didn’t want to marry. She didn’t want to give herself to any man.
"Isn't it possible my father will suspect you of this?”
Jasper lifted his shoulders in an elegant shrug. "Doubtful. My aversion to the institution is rather well-known."
What had she gotten herself into? “You are the Piccadilly Player…” And he was friends with the Duke of Malum, who owned London’s most exclusive brothel. And if she was a liability, it was doubtful she could find respectable employment anywhere.
But if she was such a pariah… "Why are you willing to marry me?"
"It’s a last resort,” he said, though it wasn’t exactly a real answer to her question. “Malum is looking into other options.”
“Such as…?”
Jasper merely shook his head. “I wish I knew.” He shrugged, and then let out a heavy sigh. “There comes a time in every man's life, every gentleman’s anyhow, when the shackle catches up to him. It’s possible that my shackle caught up the instant you threw yourself into my carriage." And then he let out a short bark of laughter. “I suppose it would have happened eventually.”
Nia’s heart sank. By the simple act of climbing into his carriage and then riding alone with him to his house, she had unintentionally compromised him.
He did not want to marry, but in order to maintain his honor, he had no choice. They’d spent a good deal of time together unchaperoned. She was ruined and he was involved. According to society’s standards, it was his duty to step up and give her the protection of his name.
This time it was he, rather than her, who was being dragged to the altar.
Jasper stared across the carriage as Nia occasionally nodded off, her head resting against the window. Despite looking utterly done in, every time the carriage hit a rut, her eyes flew open. What with the discomfort of travel and the quagmire she’d gotten herself into by running away from her groom, he doubted her thoughts allowed her much rest.
She looked lost. And he’d heard the despair in her voice.
“Are you cold?” He spoke into the darkness, keeping his voice low in case she was, in fact, sleeping.
The summer night was cool and all she had for protection was a dull green short-sleeved gown and those ridiculous slippers she’d worn on her mad dash from St. George’s.
“I’m fine,” she answered, straightening into a position to portray the dignity that had been trained into her.
She was obviously not fine.
Her forlorn shape tugging at his emotions, Jasper removed his jacket and crossed to the forward-facing bench.
“Take this.” It was the second time that day he’d given her his jacket. Had that only been earlier that morning? Less than eight hours ago, he’d been insisting to Helton that he had no intention of marrying anytime soon, and now here he was, on the way to Gretna Green with a young woman who’d jilted her groom twice.
In one day.
After placing the wool around her shoulders, Jasper kept his arm around her. He then turned, lifted one foot onto the bench, and drew her into himself so that she had the support of his body. She could use his chest for a pillow without having to worry about falling off the bench. “You’ll be able to sleep this way,” he said.
She made a half-hearted attempt to resist, but once gathered into his warmth, just as quickly capitulated.
And with her soft curls brushing against his chin, he contemplated the events of her day.
She’d run out of her own wedding. She’d been struck at least twice by her father. And then, to escape a second wedding ceremony, she’d fallen out of a third-story window.
