He finally slowed. “Up there has the best view of the University.”
Emma looked at the roof, impossibly high against the sky. “We’re not climbing it, are we?”
“There’s a secret staircase. I bribed the warden. Come on, it’s perfect for a shoot.”
He led her up narrow spiral stairs inside the vestry. They emerged into the open air on the cathedral roof and waded up the tiled slope together. The ridge at the top was just wide enough to sit on. So high up, the city lay before them like a gift, washed gold in the dying light. Emma breathed it in.
“I didn’t come back to the University because he told me to,” Jasper burst out. His vehemence was startling.
“What, your father? I wasn’t think—”
“I only came for my mother. She asked. I didn’t care what he said. It’s not like I’m scared of his threats or anything. I actually couldn’t care less.”
“I—I get it.”
“I know you do.” A smile spread across his face. Like sunlight, like butter. “No one understands me like you.”
For a moment, Emma wasn’t sure if he really had said it. He lounged back on his elbows, grimacing at the skyline. “I hate this place. It’s all been laid out for me. Who I have to be, what I have to do.”
“Like heading up your mysterious ‘Society’?” Emma teased.
“Oh, the Turnbulls?” Jasper yawned. He shot upright. “Oh God,” he groaned, clapping his hands to his face. “Not supposed to say that yet. I am not cut out for this. Put me on a boat, point me at a horizon, I’m your man. But all these rules, these traditions—”
He dropped his head onto her shoulder. Emma forgot how to breathe. “I know you’re cool. I can trust you. Just don’t tell anyone else, yeah? I’d be in so much trouble.”
She could feel the warmth of his cheek, even through her jacket. She wondered if he could hear her heart beating. “I won’t tell.”
“The Turnbulls’ve been a secret society since the founding of the University. It’d be embarrassing if all our mysteries got splashed around on my watch.”
“But that would be—what? Founded a thousand years ago? That can’t be true.”
“Can, actually. The founding chancellor of the University, John de Turnbull? He had this group of scholars that were his mates. Or his followers? Same thing. Anyway, they started the club and named it after him. All in the records.”
“Really? So is the University chancellor still involved?”
Jasper snorted. “I think he’s heard of it, but he’d never havebeen in it when he was a student. His father was a postman or something. I’d have to ask m’mother.”
He groaned and collapsed back onto the tiles, worrying at a rip in his jeans. “But there’s this big dinner coming up. There’s this really important tradition that goes way back to the founding of the University, and I’m the president, so I have to organize it.”
“Don’t worry.” Emma smiled. “You’ll be brilliant.”
He kicked his heel against the roof. “My father was president, too, while he was at the University. He doesn’t think I can do it.”
“Your father was in the Turnbulls too?”
“Yes, and my grandfather.” Jasper’s mouth curved up for a moment. “Apparently, when he was president, he shot a sweet hole right through the St. Dunstan’s weathervane in Great Court to settle a bet. It’s still there.”
Somewhere below, the injured weathervane creaked.
“Oh,” Emma said softly. “I can’t imagine what it’s like to have so much of your family history right here, around you. It’s like you’re part of a story. That sounds stupid, I know—”
“No, you sound like Rich. After his dad died, he got really into history. It took him a few years, but he found records of Wellesleys stretching back to the founding of the University. Piers had some Tudor ancestors who built a college or two. Hugo beats us all. He’s got a direct line back to William the Conqueror—”
“Richard told me about his dad.”
“What? Oh, yeah. Awful. Died when we were ten. The housemaster had to tell him. After that, he lived with us.”
“What about his mother?”
