His conscience, usually so reliably silent, had been pricking at him ever since that damnable wager with Thorne. A proper gentleman would have forgiven the debt from the start. At the very least, when Miss Thorne came to him with the earrings, he should have realized how desperate she was, and permitted himself to be blackmailed. If he’d only done as she asked the first time, his perfect arse dimple might still be intact.
Prudence Thorne was a termagant of the first degree, yes—a hellion, a menace who should be forbidden from ever wielding another weapon—but he couldn’t quite convince himself all the blame for the chaos between them could be laid upon her shoulders.
Or hehadn’tbelieved it, until she’d shot him in the arse.
“Jasper? I asked you a question.”
“Yes, alright. I sat down to cards with Major Thorne at Lord Hasting’s ball at the start of last season, and he lost a sum of money to me.”
“Ah. A large sum, I take it?”
“For Major Thorne, yes. Fifteen hundred pounds. I never should have agreed to play so deeply with him in the first place. He can’t afford it, and Miss Thorne has borne me a grudge ever since.”
“I see. Is that all?”
“Not exactly, no. That day you met Miss Thorne on the street outside my townhouse, she’d come to ask me to forgive the remainder of her father’s debt, and I—I refused.”
“Oh, Jasper.”
Jasper winced. His grandfather’s voice was heavy with disappointment, and rightly so, but it wasn’t as if Miss Thorne was blameless in this thing. His grandfather might not be quite so impressed with her pluck if he knew she’d stolen his earrings and tried to blackmail him with them.
But the less said about the earrings, the better. Mention of them would lead to all manner of uncomfortable questions, and the answers would give his grandfather an apoplexy. “Miss Thorne’s only other way of settling the debt is to marry a gentleman of means, so the Duchess of Basingstoke arranged for Lord Stoneleigh to court her, and—”
“Stoneleigh? What, you mean that fool of a vicar? That popinjay is Miss Thorne’s suitor?” His grandfather’s thick white brows lowered. “Good God, lad, is it any wonder she shot you?”
Perhaps not, when one looked at it that way, but he wasn’t to blame for Stoneleigh, at least. “ItoldBasingstoke Miss Thorne is too good to be cursed to a lifetime of marriage with Stoneleigh! Itoldhim Stoneleigh is a devil hiding under a vicar’s cassock! I don’t know what Basingstoke’s thinking, encouraging a lady like Miss Thorne to throw herself away on a buffoon like—” He broke off when he noticed his grandfather was staring at him. “What?”
“Nothing at all, lad, only you’ve gone to a good deal of trouble on Miss Thorne’s behalf. A good deal of trouble, indeed.”
Heat rose into Jasper’s cheeks until his face was as hot as his arse. “I didn’t do it forher,” he muttered, his reply muffled by the pillow covering his face. “I did it to savemyselffrom a guilty conscience, that’s all.”
“Very well, but you haven’t absolved yourself yet, lad. Miss Thorne’s father still owes you a debt, doesn’t he?”
Yes, he bloody did, but not for lack of trying onhispart. How the devil had Miss Thorne managed to snatch defeat from the jaws of almost certain victory at billiards last night? He’d never come across a more contrary woman in his life. “He does, yes.”
“Then your copybook is still smudged, lad.”
“Not for long. I’ll forgive the debt. Between that and the birdshot lodged in my arse, I believe I can consider myself absolved of any obligation to Miss Thorne.”
With the debt forgiven, she could rid herself of Stoneleigh. Beyond that, she was no longer his concern, and not a moment too soon. It was just as well she’d shot him, as it had snapped him out of his preoccupation with her.
It would be one thing if he merely despised her, or didn’t. Lusted after her, or didn’t. Admired her, or didn’t. He could dismiss her from his thoughts easily enough, then. But the trouble with Prudence Thorne was, she didn’t fit into any of the proper categories.
What was a man meant to do with a woman like that? It was bloody exhausting, trying to work it out. Well, he was done with it. From now on he’d simply wash his hands of her and save his sympathies for the poor devil who ended up marrying her.
Now that was settled, there was nothing left to do but take a nap. He gave his pillow a few good whacks to plump it up and buried his face in it, closing his eyes. “Shall we talk again later, Grandfather? I find myself rather fatigued. Blood loss, I daresay—”
“You’re going to marry Prudence Thorne.”
Jasper peeled one eye open. Odd, but it had almost sounded like his grandfather had said he was going tomarryMiss Thorne. “I beg your pardon?”
“Miss Thorne, lad. You’re going to marry her.”
Strange. He understood the words, but they made no sense when put together in that order. Perhaps he’d already fallen asleep and was having a nightmare. He peeled the other eye open. “One more time, if you would.”
“You heard me, Jasper. I like the girl. She’s got spirit.”
“Spirit?” Jasper forgot his injury entirely and jerked up, only to fall forward on his face again with a hiss. Damn it, but that hurt, like a swarm of bees all stinging his arse at once. “She has a temper, and she’s a bloody good shot. Only a fool would marry such a woman.”
