“Buying it for you, naturally.”
She stared up at him, a strange feeling in her chest which was at once alarming and inevitable. “You don’t need to do that.”
He gave her an odd look, then leaned towards her and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I promised to make you happy, Harriet. If books make you happy, I’ll spend every penny I have on them.”
“Jasper,” she said, uncertain of what she wanted to say, but the words died at the look in his eyes.
“As long as you remember to look up from time to time and remember I’m there, it will be money well spent.”
Harriet sighed and contemplated the likelihood of being able to withstand Jasper’s brand of sweet-natured charm for more than another few hours without caving in and agreeing to anything he wanted. The blasted man was a menace, and yet a little flutter of something warm and hopeful unfurled in her chest and she could not help but smile at him.
“Thank you, Jasper. You’re rather hard to forget, you know.”
She knew; she’d tried often enough and for more years than she cared to contemplate.
“I should think so,” he retorted, before going off to buy her book.
Harriet stared after him, the stupid smile still pasted to her face.
“Miss Stanhope, I’m hardly surprised by your looking like the cat that got the canary. I must congratulate you on a job well done.”
Harriet turned, her heart plummeting as she found herself eye to eye with Mrs Tate, the glamorous widow who’d been Jasper’s most recent paramour.
“I can’t think what you mean, and I don’t believe we’ve been introduced, madam,” Harriet replied, the words crackling with all the ice she could muster though her cheeks were aflame, for she knew exactly what the wretched woman was implying.
“Well, if I’d known he’d fall for such an obvious tactic, I might have tried it myself,” the lady said, her catlike green eyes glittering with malice.
“Oh, but you need a spotless reputation in order to be ruined, Mrs Tate,” Harriet flung back, a little startled by her own audacity, but her temper had been lit and she was damned if she’d allow the woman to know just how inadequate she made her feel. “I’m afraid, in your case, that ship sailed a long, long, time ago.”
To her irritation, Mrs Tate just laughed, a deep, rich sound that only made Harriet feel increasingly gauche.
“Touché, Miss Stanhope. Well, I really did mean it as a compliment you know. What a coup, for….” Mrs Tate gave Harriet a gesture that took her in from head to toe. “Someone like you,” she said in wonder, shaking her head as she looked Harriet over with a rather pained expression.
In that moment, Harriet was all too aware of how she looked next to this woman. Her plain muslin gown was last season’s, as she’d dressed in too much of a hurry and had taken little note of what she’d picked out. It was of the best quality, but simple and dreadfully immature when set against Mrs Tate’s stylish ensemble in midnight blue. She looked ravishing, as well she knew.
Harriet’s breath caught as Mrs Tate leaned in and she was assailed with the scent of ambergris. “I’ll get him back, you know,” she said, in a sultry undertone. “He’ll marry you for his heir, but once that’s done… he’ll come back to me. They always do.”
She drew back and winked at Harriet, who felt sick, hot and cold and nauseated all at once. There was the defiant urge inside of her to tell Mrs Tate she didn’t want Jasper and she was welcome to him, but it would be too obviously a lie, and a wretched thing to say. If Jasper heard her say such a thing it would hurt him, no matter his true feelings, and she knew too vividly what that felt like to speak without thought of the consequences.
“Harriet.”
She turned then as Jasper approached. There was fury in his eyes as he looked at Mrs Tate, and Harriet felt just a little bit better.
“Is everything all right, darling?” he asked, sliding a possessive arm about her waist.
Harriet looked up at him. “Quite all right, thank you, Jasper. Mrs Tate here was just explaining how you’re only marrying me because you must, because you need an heir. She was telling me how you’d be back in her bed the moment that had been accomplished.”
Harriet turned and gave Mrs Tate the sweetest of smiles, experiencing a momentary surge of triumph at the panic in the woman’s eyes, before turning on her heel and walking away.
***
“You bloody bitch.”
Mrs Tate stiffened, but put up her chin. “It’s nothing but the truth. The girl may as well know it. Cruel of you to lead her on, you know, darling.” Her expression changed, a sly look he knew all too well creeping into her expression as she moved closer and slid a hand down his chest. “We were so good together. Don’t you remember how good?” she purred.
Jasper slapped her hand away in disgust and took a step back.
“You’re a fool, Jenny,” he said, wondering what in the name of everything holy he’d been doing toying with her at all. He must have been bloody desperate. “I’m in love with her. I’ve always loved her. It’s me that trapped her into marriage, if you must know, and if you so much as speak her name, I’ll make sure no one ever wants to dally with you ever again. There will be no more wealthy protectors, not once I’m done.”
She glared at him, her eyes furious though her complexion was leaching colour.
“I treated you well,” he said, beside himself with the unfairness of it. “You did handsomely out of me, but that’s not enough, is it? You wanted my heart on a platter like every other poor fool you’ve ensnared. Well, I’m sorry to disappoint you, but interfere in my life again, and I’ll make you regret it. Are we clear?”
Mrs Tate gave a taut nod, and Jasper turned, hurrying out of the shop and after Harriet. He looked up, irritated to see the sky was growing dark as the rain clouds gathered overhead. A fine drizzle began, swirling in the cooling air and clinging to his hair and clothes as he set off in search of Harriet.
It took him the best part of an hour to find her and, when he did, his heart sank. She was huddled on a bench in a quiet corner of the Grove. It was a small wooded area, surrounded by heathland on Mount Scion and a lovely place to stroll on a sunny day. With the weather worsening by the moment, the area was deserted, and Harriet looked small, alone, and deeply unhappy. Not to mention wet. The tree canopy overhead had saved her from the worst of the weather, but her clothes were damp already and the rain was falling harder now.
Jasper cursed Mrs Tate, and then himself for ever having had anything to do with her. He’d been winning Harriet over, he’d felt certain of it, but now….
“Harry,” he said, approaching her as he might a skittish horse, afraid she’d bolt at the least provocation. “Harry,” he said again, his heart clenching as she didn’t answer him, but just stared straight ahead.
“It will always be like this, Jasper,” she said, her voice expressionless. “No matter how you feel now, whether or not I believe you are in love with me, there will always be women like Mrs Tate.”
“N-No, Harriet, I wouldn’t….”
She lifted a hand, silencing him. “Even if that’s true, I will always wonder.” She looked up at him and he could see she’d been crying, her eyes wider than ever and reddened behind her spectacles. “You’re handsome and rich and powerful, and beautiful women will always put themselves in your path. Far more beautiful than me. The kind of women who can be witty and amusing and please you in the bedroom. Can you honestly tell me you’ll never be tempted, in five years, in ten… when whatever novelty there is in having such an odd bookworm for your wife has worn off?”
“I don’t want anyone but you, Harry,” Jasper said helplessly.
“But don’t you see?” A tear slid down her cheek. “Even if that’s true, I’ll always wonder. I’ll always be frightened that the next time you might be tempted, and I think that might drive me mad, Jasper. It’s certainly not fair on you.”
“No,” Jasper said, shaking his head. He got to his knees b
efore her, unheeding of the dirt or the fact that the rain was falling more heavily by the moment, soaking into his coat and running down the back of his neck. “I’ll never be tempted, Harry, because there’s only ever been you.”
She gave an impatient little huff of laughter. “You mean like the day you left for Russia, when you kissed me and asked me not to marry anyone else, and not twenty minutes later I heard you tell Peter Winslow not to be so bloody ridiculous when he asked if you were interested in me? Is that your idea of devotion, Jasper? For I tell you now, it isn’t mine.”
Jasper stared at her in shock, astonished that he’d understood it at last and that it was so outrageously bloody senseless.
“That’s why…?” he said, his voice hoarse. “That’s why you’ve hated me all these years? Because….” He stared at her, unsure of whether to laugh or cry.
“Partly,” she agreed with a stiff nod.
“Oh, Harry. Oh, love, if only you’d said, dear God.” He put his head in his hands and took a deep breath before he was calm enough to speak again. “Harry,” he said, his voice not entirely steady. “Peter Winslow was a spiteful little prick, and I hated him, and he me. He’s been jealous of me since… since I can’t even remember. If he’d known you were important to me, he’d have ruined it. He’d have whispered malicious gossip in your ear or….” He paused as the shocked expression that had entered her eyes at his words deepened. “Christ,” he said, shaking his head. “The little shit. I’ll bloody kill him. What did he say, Harry?”
Harry blinked hard, her eyes too bright and her voice thick. “He… he said he’d heard from his father who’d written to tell him how popular you were and how… how all the women were fawning over you. He said you were—”
Jasper felt rage surge through him and promised himself the pleasure of putting an end to Peter Winslow’s chances of fathering a child any time soon.
“I can imagine what he said,” he growled, beside himself with frustration and bitterness that so much bloody time had been wasted. His anger mounted, his voice growing strident. “It wasn’t true, Harry. There was no one. Good Lord, that was likely the only period of my life when I returned home and saw how pleased my father was with me because I’d behaved myself and not caused any trouble, and it was all for you, Harry!” he shouted this last, overcome with emotion.
Harriet stared at him. “I… I can’t believe it,” she said, staring at him through rain speckled glasses, her hair dripping as the rain came down and neither of them moved. “Y-You never wrote to me, Jasper, not once. Not once in a whole year—”
“You never wrote either!” Jasper snapped back, too aware of how he could have resolved everything with such ease if he’d only been able to write to her. If he’d written to her, reassuring her of his feelings, she’d never had doubted him, but he’d been too aware of how a letter from him would look, how stupid it would make him appear to someone as clever as Harriet. His stomach churned with guilt and regret. “For God’s sake, Harry. We can’t talk here; you’ll catch your death.”
He pulled her to her feet, tugging her with him, intending to take her back to the carriage. They’d have to endure a bloody carriage ride in company, but the minute they got back he was taking her to his bed and leaving her in no uncertain terms of his feelings.
At that moment the heavens opened, the rain falling in sheets and Jasper guided them under the relative shelter of a huge oak tree.
“Thank goodness there’s no thunder this time,” he said, turning to look at Harriet, and finding such a look in her eyes that his heart did a strange little somersault in his chest. She reached for him, grabbing at his neck, pulling his head towards hers and kissing him as if the world was about to end. There was desperation in the way she clung to him, as if she couldn’t ever get close enough.
“Harry,” he said between kisses, his heart soaring because she wanted him, damn it, but his head was telling him she was wet and cold, and they needed to get warm and dry as soon as they could. He tried to pull back. “Harry, love….” he protested, but Harriet’s mouth was hot and urgent and then her hand reached between them, cupping him through his breeches.
Jasper’s breath caught in his throat, sense going out of the window on a rising tide of desire. He pulled her closer, his hands cupping her behind as she tugged at his buttons, freeing him.
Jasper hissed with a combination of pain and pleasure as her cold little hand curled about his overheated flesh. They were hidden beneath the trees here, at least, and no one was mad enough to be out walking in this weather. Besides, they were marrying now, no question. There was no other possible outcome. He tugged at Harriet’s skirts, aware they were damp and clinging to her, but too far gone to care. Hiking them up, he backed her up against the tree, lifting her until her legs wrapped around his waist. He drove inside her in a swift movement that made them both cry out.
She clung to his neck, feverish with excitement, clutching at his hair as he thrust into her over and again.
“Yes,” she cried, the breathless sounds of her pleasure driving him on as the sheer mad, reckless joy of it overtook him.
After so long of wanting, of believing he’d lost her, she was here and mad for him, and he was losing his bloody mind.
“Jasper,” she said, the sound of his name filled with the same combination of wonder at the sheer lunacy of what they were doing. “Jasper,” she said, again, his name lost against the noise of the wind and the rain as her body began to tighten around him, sending him towards the edge. She jolted in his arms, clinging to him and crying out as Jasper swallowed the sound of her pleasure and followed her into ecstasy.
Chapter 14
Dearest Alice,
It was so lovely to hear from you. I am glad to know you and Nate are so happy, though I’m hardly surprised. I am sorry to hear about the morning sickness, but I’m so excited to be an Auntie I’m afraid I can’t be that sympathetic, I’m too pleased by the idea of a niece or nephew to fuss over. I will be sure to visit you when we are both back in town and look forward to discovering if you’ve grown frightfully fat!
― Excerpt of a letter from Miss Matilda Hunt to Mrs Alice Hunt.
1st September 1814. Holbrooke House, Sussex.
Harriet endured the carriage ride home in a kind of daze. Jasper sat close to her, the warmth of his thigh burning against hers, but she was chilled to the bone. The heat of their lovemaking had long since faded, though her cheeks felt warm enough if she considered what she’d done. Heavens, she must have been mad. In The Grove of all places, in public! What kind of licentious creature was she becoming?
She slanted a glance at Jasper, well aware of why she was suddenly capable of such wanton behaviour. The man was like a drug; the more you had of him the more you needed. No wonder Mrs Tate had been so miffed to lose him. Harriet pushed thoughts of Mrs Tate away with irritation. She believed Jasper had no interest in the woman, but her words had been true, too. There would always be the Mrs Tates of this world, trying to steal her husband away from her.
Well, let them try. The thought was raw and savage, and she knew she’d made her decision. She would marry Jasper, and pray it didn’t end in tears. It was all she could do, for she could not bring herself to walk away from him. If she did, she would always wonder what if and that would make her more miserable than anything else. If their marriage failed, at least she’d know she’d tried, and she’d always have her work, and maybe there would be children too.
Harriet smoothed a hand over her belly and looked down, wondering if even now his seed was growing inside of her. She looked up, aware of eyes upon her, but Minerva and Matilda were both dozing as the carriage made its way back to Holbrooke House. Turning, she found Jasper staring down at her, such a soft look in his eyes as he regarded the hand that lay upon her stomach, she knew he’d guessed her train of thought. He reached over and took her hand, raising it to his lips and kissing her fingers.
“Harry, darling, you’re frozen,” he said, shaking his head
.
He’d already stripped off his coat and put it around her shoulders, but now he put his arms about her and tugged her close.
“I’ll have a hot bath drawn for you as soon as we get in. Then, something to eat and a tot of brandy… and straight to bed,” he murmured in her ear, the words making her shiver harder. “And I’ll make sure you’re warm all the way through.”
“Jasper!” she whispered, scandalised that he should say such things with Minerva and Matilda in the carriage, even if they were asleep.
He chuckled and leant down to kiss her temple. “I love you.”
Harriet smiled up at him, longing to say the same in return, for she did, there was no point in denying it. Yet, it didn’t seem right to say the words now, not until she had seen Inigo and explained that she wouldn’t be marrying him. Once she was free of their engagement, she would tell Jasper that she loved him, that she had always loved him, and she always would, and then… then they would see where that led them.
As soon as they arrived home, Harriet rushed upstairs but asked her maid to delay the bath Jasper had ordered for her with regret. It sounded a wonderful idea, as she was chilled through and the headache that had plagued her all day was worsening steadily. Instead, she sent her maid off, asking that a carriage be readied for her at once. Harriet changed her sodden clothes, her skin prickling with gooseflesh even as she stood before the fire. Once she was dressed in warm clothes, she redid her hair as best she could and hurried back downstairs.
The weather had improved none in the time it had taken Harriet to change and rain hammered on the roof of the carriage, making her feel she was sitting on the inside of a drum. She closed her eyes against the din that did nothing to ease her aching head and tried to ignore the fact she was bone-weary and her throat was sore.
It was only a journey of half an hour to the inn where Inigo was staying, but the place was bustling. Outside, three carriages took up all the available space as they’d stopped as close to the entrance as possible to allow the guests to enter without getting drenched.
To Wager with Love (Girls Who Dare Book 5) Page 14