CHAPTER14
“Jasper, my boy, your backside looks like a plate of braised beef tongue.”
Heavy footsteps shuffled across the floor, interspersed with the muted thud of a walking stick. A moment later a pair of feet and a gnarled hand gripping a familiar gold lion’s head appeared in Jasper’s sightline, and his grandfather’s shadow fell over him. “Good God. You’ve done it this time, haven’t you, lad?”
“I’vedone it? Do you suppose I shotmyselfin the arse?” Jasper was lying on his stomach on his bed, his head resting on his arms, a mountain of pillows wedged under his hips, and his bare arse on display to anyone who happened to stroll through the door.
“Eh, well, better a shot to the backside than one between the eyes.”
“No, it bloodyisn’t.” He usually made it a point not to curse in his grandfather’s presence, but a load of birdshot to the arse had a way of loosening a man’s tongue. “At least a shot between the eyes is quick.”
“That’s so. It’ll kill you, though.” His grandfather dropped into the chair beside the bed with a sigh. “Bit of a drawback, that.”
“I’m going to die anyway—slowly, of humiliation. That hazel-eyed hellion blasted a half dozen holes into my backside!”
“I know it, lad. I saw it happen. Remarkable shot, really. Not one in a hundred men could have done it so neatly. The lady’s a markswoman.”
Jasper craned his neck to scowl at his grandfather. “She missed the damned bird and shot me instead! How the devil is that remarkable?”
“She didn’t miss, lad. She got the grouse, too, but you didn’t notice it because you were on the ground by then, howling like a banshee.” His grandfather shook his head. “I don’t know that I’ve ever heard you howl like that before.”
“Yes, well, I daresay you’d howl, too, if you’d been shot.” Jasper shifted on the bed, wincing. Christ, it felt like his arse was on fire. “I warned Basingstoke not to bring Miss Thorne out this morning.” He’d been right all along, and now he had the arse to prove it.
“What was that all about, lad? Why were you so insistent she not go out today?”
“Because only yesterday she was nearly killed in a riding accident! For God’s sake, has everyone but me forgotten about that? I didn’t want to see her shot, any more than I wanted to see her neck broken!”
His grandfather stared at him. “You mean to say you were concerned for Miss Thorne’s welfare, lad?That’swhy you objected?”
“Yes! That is, it’s nothing to do with Miss Thorne, of course. I would have been as concerned about any lady in such a situation.”
“Well, I’ll be damned,” his grandfather murmured.
“But did Basingstoke listen to me? No! By all rights it should behimlying here with an arse full of birdshot.”
His grandfather made a strangled noise that sounded suspiciously like a smothered laugh. “Now, lad, there’s no need to take on so. The doctor says it’s not a serious wound. You’ll be as good as new soon.”
Not soon enough. When he’d set out this morning he’d had a fine-looking arse—more than one lady had remarked on it—and now instead of a charming dimple in his left cheek he’d have scars, thanks to Prudence Thorne. It had taken the chit a single afternoon to destroy one of the prettiest arses in England. “She shot me on purpose.”
“That’s not fair, Jasper. Miss Thorne never meant you any harm. I’ve never seen a lady more upset than she was this afternoon. It was an accident. No visibility with all that rain, you know.”
“Bollocks. You just said she’s a markswoman.” Prudence Thorne could ride, and she could shoot. God help them all if she ever got hold of a fencing foil. “I’m telling you, Grandfather, she was waiting all day for a shot at me. When she got my poor, vulnerable arse in her sights, she took it.”
His grandfather chuckled. “Aye, the girl’s got pluck, doesn’t she?”
“Pluck? Is that what you’d call it?” For God’s sake, if she’d aimed just a little higher, he’d be lying here with his brains leaking onto his pillow. “She wanted her revenge on me, and she bloody well got it.”
A brief silence fell, and when his grandfather spoke again, his voice had gone dangerously soft. “Revenge? Revenge forwhat, lad?”
Hell, and damnation. “Er, nothing. Pardon me, Grandfather, but I’m feeling a bit faint—”
“Why should Major Thorne’s girl want revenge on you?” His grandfather rapped the floor with the tip of his walking stick. “Best to just confess it now, lad, for I’ll find it out one way or another.”
That was true enough. God knew the old man had eyes everywhere. He made it his business to know everything about Jasper, from the flavor of tarts he favored at his breakfast table to the flavor of the tarts he favored in his bed.
His grandfather would find out about his wager with Major Thorne. There was little doubt of that, yet that wasn’t the reason a confession was hovering on the tip of his tongue.
Or not theonlyreason.
