And then Jasper had been too busy talking to the authorities to talk to her. The only reason Emma Jane even knew the full story of what had happened in the brothel was because Mary had told her. Though that fact hurt, what wounded her even more was the surprised expression on Jasper’s face. True, he had been too busy to notice Emma Jane’s contributions, but the fact that it didn’t occur to him that she’d want to help, well, that seemed like a far greater sin than Jasper’s abandonment.
That was the trouble with marrying someone you barely knew. Jasper didn’t know that for someone like Emma Jane, the easiest thing to do was to step in and work, because when you worked, you didn’t have to talk. Because talking meant that people would notice her and make fun of her. No one ever seemed to pay any mind to the workers. Probably why Jasper had never noticed her, either.
“I’m sorry I never thanked you for your help,” he said huskily.
“It was a busy night. Your mother rushed you into bed and had the doctor in there with you so quickly, I’m sure there were a lot of things you didn’t notice.”
The weariness on Jasper’s face seemed to increase as the lamp flickered beside him. She hated continuing to make him talk, but they seemed to almost be getting along. Could they regain ground as friends?
“I think Pastor Lassiter has a point about us needing time together to get to know each other. I don’t understand what’s fueling your need to help this Daisy person, and you don’t understand anything about me.” Emma Jane pulled her shawl tighter around her. “Why don’t I get you something to eat, and when I get back, you can tell me something you think I should know about you.”
At least, with Jasper leading the conversation, it would keep her from making any more missteps that would drive them apart.
Hesitating before heading for the door, she watched the play of emotions on her husband’s face. Could he see that she was offering him an olive branch? A chance to begin their marriage as it should have been? Asking him to love her was too much—Emma Jane knew that—but surely peaceful coexistence wasn’t so far out of their reach.
After what seemed like ages, Jasper’s lips turned upward into the grin that was rumored to melt every woman’s heart this side of the Divide. Emma Jane had never been one of the girls to giggle and swoon over Jasper’s famed good looks, but if he gave her many grins like that, she could easily find herself wanting to. However, a man’s appearance faded over time, and Emma Jane hoped that what she found beneath was the same man she’d grown to like at the church picnic.
“All right. Don’t put any pickles on my sandwich. Mother seems to think they’re my favorite, but I really can’t stand her pickles.” He gave her a wink, then settled back into her chair.
No pickles. The simple request seemed to be the beginning of a friendship as Emma Jane went downstairs to the kitchen. There, she found Cook already at the stove, busying herself with the kettle.
“What are you doing up?” Emma Jane crossed the room and reached for a mug. Though Mrs. Jackson would probably disapprove of Jasper not being served on fine china, the mugs held more, and he seemed like he could use a larger cup of tea.
“I heard Mr. Jasper come home. He doesn’t take good care of himself, so I thought I’d prepare some food for him.”
In her short time at the Jackson mansion, Emma Jane had learned that everything was about catering to Jasper—when it wasn’t about Mrs. Jackson, of course. But his mother’s primary concern, other than reputation, was making sure that Jasper never wanted for anything.
“I should have known. I came down to do the very thing myself.”
Cook pointed to a plate on the table. “Sandwiches for Mr. Jasper, just the way he likes.”
Emma Jane couldn’t help but notice the pickle hanging out the sides. She went over and removed it.
“What are you doing with Mrs. Jackson’s prized pickles? Those are Mr. Jasper’s favorite.”
“When I asked him what he’d like, he mentioned that he’d prefer not to have pickles.” Emma Jane hesitated, wondering if she should share his secret.
Cook nodded slowly. “I wondered who’d been leaving pickles in strange places in the dining room. Poor Mr. Jasper probably didn’t want to hurt his mother’s feelings. Mrs. Jackson prides herself on those pickles, though I don’t know a single soul who can tolerate them. I’ll keep that in mind for the future.”
It was a simple conversation about pickles, but it told something about Jasper’s character that Emma Jane hadn’t been expecting. As much as he played the role of a carefree playboy, Jasper’s compassion ran deep. Rather than hurt his mother’s feelings, he’d gone along with the charade of liking her pickles.
As Emma Jane finished preparing Jasper’s tea, she thought more about Jasper’s compassion. At the church picnic, when everyone else mocked Emma Jane’s outmoded dress and the ridiculous way her mother had painted her face to attract attention, Jasper had reprimanded the girls who’d mistreated her in front of him. He’d spoken to her with kindness and treated her with dignity even when everyone else was whispering about her father losing everything at the gambling halls. He’d even promised to help her find a way to get her family out of the mess.
Of course, he hadn’t meant to marry her, and he’d said as much. Poor Jasper had only thought to do a good deed for Emma Jane, and she’d repaid him by forcing a marriage he didn’t want.
She sighed and put the sandwich and tea on a tray. No, she hadn’t forced the marriage. Her parents had. And when she’d tried telling everyone that it wasn’t Jasper’s fault they’d been trapped in a mine together and that nothing had happened requiring marriage, everyone ignored her.
When she arrived back in her room, Jasper lay sprawled in the chair, his mouth hanging open, snoring softly. His thick dark hair had fallen over closed eyes. The rugged lines had disappeared from his face, and he appeared so peaceful, full of calm and innocence. Looking at him like this, Emma Jane understood why his looks beguiled so many. He seemed so handsome and debonair. So...perfect. Everyone seemed to want that perfection, and yet, the more time Emma Jane spent with Jasper, the more she realized there was so much more to him. Which was strange, because she barely knew him at all.
After setting the tray down on a nearby table, Emma Jane took one of the blankets from her bed and tucked it around Jasper. She’d have liked to have moved him, but she wasn’t that strong, and she didn’t want to disturb him. He seemed to be sleeping comfortably enough, and because she’d napped on that very chair a time or two, Emma Jane knew he’d be fine.
Then, because it seemed like the right thing to do, Emma Jane bent and kissed him on the forehead. “May God bless you and keep you.”
She crossed the room, turned out the lights, then climbed back into her own bed and settled into sleep.
* * *
Jasper woke with a crick in his neck, feeling more rested than he had in days, yet not entirely comfortable. He opened his eyes, then realized where he was. Emma Jane’s room. He must have fallen asleep when she’d gone to get him something to eat. He glanced around the room and noticed the tray sitting on a nearby table.
Dear, sweet girl. His stomach rumbled, so he went ahead and grabbed the sandwich. The tea was cold, but it quenched his thirst. He ate and drank, enjoying the meal she’d prepared for him. Even the lack of pickles on his sandwich warmed his heart. True, his mother would have done the same and brought him a tray. But something about the fact that Emma Jane had taken it upon herself to tend to him was endearing. She hadn’t needed to go to all that trouble.
As if to remind him of her presence, Emma Jane gave a small sigh as she shifted in her bed. He looked over at her, noticing that she lay curled up in the blanket, almost like a child. Her hair lay spread out across the pillow, a deep honey shade that was neither brown nor blond, but a combination of the two. He’d heard people talk about how plain Emma Jane’s
looks were, but watching her sleep, he thought her quite lovely. True, she didn’t have the classical beauty that seemed to be prized in society, but there was something genuinely attractive about her innocent face and lack of artifice.
Emma Jane sighed yet again and mumbled something incoherent. Jasper turned away. He shouldn’t be intruding on her private moments of rest.
She’d been kind to him the night before, trying to talk to him and find out what he was really like. For all her faults, Emma Jane was trying to be a good wife. But could she make up for the fact that she’d used him so badly?
He remembered how she’d made a point to tell him that she’d complied with his request, not investigating on her own and relying on him to share information.
Emma Jane was doing her part, and it was time he thought about doing his. Letting go of his resentment of the situation and giving her an honest chance. He’d told her last night that he was finding it difficult. But for as hard as he saw Emma Jane trying, he knew he owed her nothing less.
Jasper folded the blanket Emma Jane had put around him. Her consideration gave him pause. He hadn’t known that she’d helped out the night of the brothel fire. Nor had he known that she’d been helping with the women displaced by the brothel fire. In some ways, it shamed Jasper to realize that as angry as he was about his marriage, he hadn’t at all thought about what kind of woman he’d ended up with.
Somehow, in all of this mess, he’d found himself attached to a good woman.
As he placed the blanket on the chair, the bedroom door opened.
“Jasper! What are you doing in here?”
His mother’s gasp jolted him and, from the startled sound in the bed, Emma Jane, as well.
“Good morning, Mother.”
“Answer my question.”
Jasper wanted to laugh at his mother’s insistence. He was a married man, and still she concerned herself with the propriety of being in a woman’s—no, his wife’s—bedchamber.
“Emma Jane heard me come in late, and she wanted to be sure I was taken care of.” He gestured to the empty plate. “I fell asleep in the chair, and she was kind enough to let me rest.”
“She should have alerted the staff.” His mother’s face was pinched in an unpleasant expression. “Speaking of which, one of the maids says she saw Emma Jane leaving the kitchen last night. I cannot have her interfering with the staff’s business.”
He knew his marriage had been hard on his mother, who’d dreamed of a big society wedding with a woman of her choosing. But as he’d told her the day before, they had to come to terms with the fact that life had other plans for them.
“Emma Jane was being a good wife,” Jasper said in a carefully modulated tone. “I was grateful for her kindness to me.”
“I see.” She turned her attention to Emma Jane, who’d just woken and now sat up in bed, pulling her covers around her. “In the future, please leave the care of my son to our staff.”
Was his mother seriously telling Emma Jane not to take care of him? Did she truly expect that he and Emma Jane were going to continue to live in this house as strangers? But as he saw the tension in his mother’s elegant figure, he knew that was exactly what she was thinking. His mother never thought that he and Emma Jane would have a real marriage.
Jasper swallowed. He’d never imagined it, either. But he had hoped that, over time, he and Emma Jane could at least find a peaceful way to live together. Last night, she had reached out to him in an attempt to make that happen.
Constance’s edict would only serve to drive a wedge between their already fragile marriage.
“I like Emma Jane’s care, Mother. So if it’s no trouble to her, then I see no need for her to rouse the servants on my behalf.” Jasper looked directly at Emma Jane, hoping she understood that he was on her side.
“I see. However, I do want to stress that your wife should not be in the kitchen.” His mother turned and sauntered out of the room, leaving the door open behind her.
Although Emma Jane’s comment last night about her already being compromised had rubbed him the wrong way, he couldn’t help but think it now. What did his mother think she was saving him from? They’d already been forced to marry.
“I’m sorry about that,” Jasper said to her. “She’ll warm up to you eventually.”
“It’s all right.” Emma Jane stared at the blankets on the bed, not meeting his gaze. “I’m sure it must be hard for her to have you married to someone like me. I’m not exactly the society darling she’d hoped for.”
Her words shamed him. Not because she was trying to, but because that’s what Emma Jane seemed to truly believe. He thought back to the way the women had teased her at the church picnic, how Flora Montgomery had tried to persuade him not to speak to her because of the scandal surrounding her father’s gambling losses. Even at their wedding, which was supposed to quiet all the talk about Emma Jane’s fall from grace, he’d heard the whispers disparaging her character.
Jasper knew none of it was true. He’d assumed everyone else would figure out the truth sooner or later, as well. But it hadn’t occurred to him that Emma Jane believed herself deserving of the censure.
“Any man would be honored to be married to someone like you,” Jasper said gruffly.
Emma Jane finally met his eyes. “You aren’t.”
He’d forgotten how direct she could be. When they first spoke at the church picnic, he’d admired that about her. Even respected the fact that she’d come right out and said that if he married her, it would solve her problems. But that was before she’d tricked him into compromising her. Before she’d demonstrated her lack of trust in him.
“No man wants to be made a fool of.”
He hated the way she shrank back at his words. Emma Jane wanted to be friends and recapture what they’d had before they’d been forced to marry. But how could they get past it, when she had no idea what she’d stolen from him?
A chance to fall in love. To have a loving home. A family of his own. Perhaps he and Emma Jane could get to a place where they could find a way to have children. But there’d never be the same loving glances he saw Will and Mary exchange. He’d never know what it was like to have someone see all the parts of him and love him, really love him, for who he was.
Maybe Jasper had been the fool. This whole mess had started because seeing Will again and meeting Emma Jane had made him want to be a better man. To be known for something other than the wealthy playboy who stole women’s hearts. He’d thought he wanted a life of substance instead of playing to society’s whims.
Yet here he was, stuck in a marriage of convenience because he’d tried to be the man of honor he wanted to be.
Tears rolled down Emma Jane’s cheeks, and he knew he should be sorry for them. Part of him was, but the other part of him still mourned the life he could never have.
Chapter Four
When Jasper finally arrived downstairs, he found his mother in her sitting room, sorting through envelopes. She looked up at him and held out several in his direction.
“Do you see these?”
“Yes, Mother.” He tried to sound as accommodating as possible, but he found it more difficult than usual. They often had this conversation about invitations. All the brides she’d hoped to snare for him. Now that he was married, he’d thought these conversations would end.
“All the best families in town, and not one invitation from them. We’re supposed to be the pillars of society, and yet we seem to only be receiving correspondence from the lesser-known families.”
“So what would you have me do? Throw her out on the street?”
Jasper gave his mother an icy look, then turned to go into the dining room. After the sandwich Emma Jane had so thoughtfully provided, he wasn’t all that hungry. His encounter with his mother had stolen the rest of his appetite. But h
e could put together a few things to take with him on the trail.
Yesterday’s dead end had him wondering. Everything seemed too convenient. The promising lead, and then it suddenly fizzling out. Something was off, and he couldn’t put his finger on it. Trouble was, since this was Jasper’s first foray into law enforcement, no one else in the sheriff’s office took him seriously. Everyone assumed that his desire to take down the rest of the gang was a playboy’s whim.
His father sat at the head of the table, and while he appeared to be reading his paper, as soon as Jasper entered the room, he looked up at him.
“Go easy on your mother. It’s a rough transition.”
“You don’t think it’s rough on me?” Jasper grumbled, pouring himself a cup of coffee as he sat. While he didn’t want his father’s lecture, he could use some advice on the case. Or at least in getting the other men to respect him.
The glare he got in response made Jasper feel about five years old. Henry folded the paper, then stared at his son. “Your mother has had one thing driving her all these years—her son marrying well so she could gain the daughter she never had. Your choice in wife is not exactly what she had imagined.”
“I didn’t choose to marry Emma Jane.”
Silence rocked the room for several minutes before Jasper’s father answered. “You would have left a girl ruined instead?”
Jasper squeezed his eyes shut, forcing himself not to say something he’d regret. Finally, he took a deep breath, then opened his eyes. “Nothing untoward happened. I told you. But society and honor dictated that we marry. I didn’t make the rules, I just follow them. Now that we’re married, I have to make the best of it.”
“So why are you running away all the time? That doesn’t sound like making the best of it to me.” His father’s dark eyes bore deep into him, searching for the truth. Henry had been able to make Jasper come clean on even his worst deeds ever since he was a child.
Shotgun Marriage (Leadville, Co. Book 3) Page 5