It was raining in earnest now. The wind had grown colder and was whipping through the thin layer of her cloak. She rose to her feet, shoving her hands into her pockets to warm them, and began to trudge back through the garden toward the house.
But she hadn’t even taken a step when she stopped. There was something in her pocket, tucked way down into the corner, half buried in the clumsily stitched seam. It felt like . . . a pebble?
Whatever it was, it was too tiny to grasp, so she tore off her gloves and delved into the pocket again with her bare fingers. Yes, it felt like two small, perfectly smooth, round pebbles. She pinched them between her thumb and forefinger and pulled them loose, cradling them in her palm.
But they weren’t pebbles at all. On her palm sat a pair of tiny, perfect pearls.
She stared down at them, her heart suddenly roaring in her ears. These weren’t just any pearls. They were the pearls that had dangled from the ends of Jasper’s ruby earrings. She’d know them anywhere.
But how? How in the world could they have ended up in the pocket of her cloak? Where had they come from, unless—
Jasper.
The last time she’d worn the cloak had been that night she’d sneaked downstairs to meet Jasper in the billiards room. He’d kissed her that night, his lips sweet and gentle against hers.
She’d fled from him that night after he’d ordered her to go, but she’d accidently left her cloak behind. Jasper had still been in the billiards room when she’d left, and he’d had the earrings. He must have . . . dear God, he must have pried the pearls loose from the setting and slipped them into her pocket!
They’d been there all this time, waiting for her to find them.
But why? Why would he give the pearls to her?
She’dstolenthem from him.Blackmailedhim.
Yet he’d given them to her anyway, right after the first time he’d kissed her.
She raised her hand to her lips, a soft sob catching in her throat. She’d been so certain that kiss had meant nothing to him, but maybe . . . maybe . . .
She gathered her skirts in her hands and began to run.
* * *
“Perhaps it wasn’t a good idea for us to come to Montford Park after all, Loftus.”
Jasper peered out into the dusk beyond his carriage window, misgivings tightening his chest. Prue had asked him for one thing only. To come to the countryalone. Now here he was, jaunting merrily up the drive to the entrance of Montford Park in utter disregard of her wishes.
Good Lord. Even now she was likely looking down on him from one of the windows, cursing the day she became his duchess.
Loftus turned to Jasper with wide eyes. “Er, yes, Your Grace, but I’m afraid it’s rather too late now.”
“I suppose so.” Jasper slumped back against his seat. It wasn’t as if he could have done otherwise. Surely, a husband whose wife suspected him of the worst sort of betrayal—and with the worst sort of villainous female, no less—surely that husband must do everything in his power to clear his name, and set things back to rights with the lady he loved?
Not to mention his having nearly sliced Quincy to ribbons to get here.
Yes, these were all very good reasons why a husband might chase his wife into the country after she’d specifically asked him not to, yet doubts continued to niggle at him.
What if she sent him away again? Or worse, what if shewept? He couldn’t think of anything worse than watching tears leak from those lovely hazel eyes. No, he couldn’t bear it. “We must turn around at once, Loftus! This instant!”
Loftus jumped at Jasper’s sudden shout, and his mouth dropped open. “Turn around? Now? But . . . I beg your pardon, Your Grace, but we’ve only just—”
“You don’t understand! The duchess doesn’t want me here, Loftus.”
“I don’t like to contradict you, as you know, Your Grace, but I think Her Grace is—”
“Her Grace specifically requested I not join her at Montford Park! We’ve made a terrible mistake, Loftus, and must go back to London at once.”
“Of course, if Your Grace wishes it, but might I venture a word first?”
Jasper huffed out a breath. “Yes, if you must, but I warn you, there isn’t a single thing you can say that could possibly change my mind.”
