by Deborah Hale
Jasper hesitated. He wanted to tell Margaret’s father that there could be no match between them because his heart was committed elsewhere. But this was not the proper time. Perhaps he should go back inside, dance with Miss Webster and pretend his intentions toward her had not changed. But he did not want to lead the lady on any more than he had already. Neither did he wish to embarrass her with his obvious neglect. Evangeline had already chided him for that.
“It is not easy to get near her.” Jasper offered the first excuse that came to mind, insisting to his conscience that it was true. “Your daughter is the belle of the ball and justly so. I do not wish to deprive Miss Webster of her triumph by keeping her all to myself.”
Mr. Webster lowered his voice to a menacing rumble. “I did not make my fortune by being thick, you know. You’ve had no trouble getting near that chit of a governess. There looks to be more between you than is proper for master and servant.”
“Miss Fairfax is not a servant!” Jasper could not bear to hear Evangeline referred to in that dismissive way. “There is nothing between us, nor has there ever been.”
Not in the sordid way Mr. Webster meant, certainly. The last thing Jasper wanted was for ugly gossip about them to stain Evangeline’s reputation.
“I am relieved to hear it.” The older man backed down in the face of Jasper’s emphatic denial. “Can you promise me that your intentions toward my daughter are honorable? You haven’t just been trifling with her, amusing yourself at her expense?”
“Of course not!” Jasper cried.
That sounded so deliberately callous. The truth was much more complicated. He’d sincerely believed he and Margaret Webster would make a harmonious match, even though he did not love her. “I have the greatest respect for your daughter. I would never wish to injure or embarrass her. I promise you that my intentions toward her have never been dishonorable.”
The sincerity of his tone seemed to persuade the older man.
“That’s what I wanted to hear!” Piers Webster seized Jasper’s right hand, pumping it up and down vigorously. “If that is how you feel, you had better quit shilly-shallying and propose to my daughter at your first opportunity.”
“P-propose?” The thought rocked Jasper, making it impossible for him to do more than repeat the word like a simpleton who did not understand its meaning.
“Aye. What else?” Piers Webster chortled. “Consider this my blessing to ask her. I’ll expect to see the pair of you engaged before we leave your charming house at the end of the week!”
Chapter Fourteen
“I BEG YOUR pardon, sir!” Evangeline cried as she tread on the poor squire’s toes for the second time in as many minutes. “You must be sorry you ever invited such a clumsy partner to dance.”
When she’d danced with Jasper, the need to concentrate on the steps had helped her push troublesome thoughts to the back of her mind. But now they crowded forward to distract her when she most needed to pay attention to what she was doing. Every word he’s spoken that suggested tender feelings for her, ran through her thoughts over and over. She was powerless to banish them. Could that be because she did not want to?
One particular sentiment he’d mentioned struck an answering chord in her. Jasper Chase claimed that his feelings had been growing for much longer than he’d realized. Perhaps that was true for her as well. These past years, as she’d witnessed his devotion to the children she loved, had the seeds of trust and tenderness been sown? Had they lain fallow in her heart just waiting for a change of season to blossom?
The squire winced but quickly covered it with a forced smile. “Not to worry, my dear. You are out of practice. That is all. I hope we shall be able to remedy that in the future.”
Evangeline did not contradict him, though she knew it was most unlikely. She would soon be leaving Amberwood to set up her school.
Leaving Jasper and the children? Her heart protested painfully. How could she think of going now that she knew he cared for her the way she did for him?
The very thought brought her heart and soul into such anguished conflict that she turned left when she should have turned right and bumped into Gemma Leveson.
“Forgive me!” She scrambled to correct herself. “I seem to have two left feet this evening.”
Her cheeks blazed. Everyone in the assembly hall must be staring at her, whispering to one another behind raised hands and fans. What had possessed her to come here tonight when she could not execute a simple step without injuring one of the other dancers?
Jasper Chase, her conscience accused her. He was the reason she had come. She’d wanted him to see her in her modest finery, wanted him to converse and dance with her. Had she secretly hoped he would fall in love with her like the young lord in that romantic ballad?
If so, it had only been an idle fancy. If Jasper truly cared for her and declared such feelings, it would complicate her life and future unbearably. She had only allowed her foolish infatuation for him to go unchecked because she’d been so certain he would never return her feelings. Now that it appeared he might, she could be forced to make some very wrenching choices.
Evangeline breathed a sigh of relief when the dance finally came to an end without any further disasters. The squire escorted her from the floor, making all manner of kind excuses for her awkwardness. His words washed over Evangeline, scarcely registering in her mind as her gaze darted here and there in search of Jasper.
Would he tease her over her dreadful performance, challenging her to do better when she took the floor with him again? The prospect almost made her forget her embarrassment.
But Jasper was nowhere to be seen.
Was he vexed with her for accepting the squire’s invitation? Had her skittish reaction to his attentions made him think she did not care for him? That might make her situation easier—lifting the burden of decision from her shoulders. Yet her feelings demanded some sort of expression and acknowledgment, even if nothing could come of them.
Squire Brunskill must have sensed her inattention, for he seized her hands and raised his voice to attract her notice. “I should be honored to put my carriage at your disposal any evening you wish to grace this assembly with your presence, Miss Fairfax.”
There could be no mistaking the old gentleman’s interest in her. Evangeline wondered why she had not noticed it before. A qualm of shame gripped her for having made light of it earlier. There was nothing amusing about such feelings, especially when they could not be returned. The squire was a good, kind man and she did not want to hurt him. But if there was a man she dared encourage, it was not he.
“That is a very generous offer, sir.” She chose her words with care. “I will bear it in mind if I wish to attend another assembly.”
The squire beamed and gave her hands a squeeze before he released them. Evangeline struggled to hide her distaste. Fortunately Mr. Brookes appeared just then, providing a welcome diversion.
He bowed to her and the squire. “I beg your pardon, Miss Fairfax, but I wonder if you might do me the honor of a dance?”
Squire Brunskill looked as vexed with the vicar as Jasper had with him. “The lady might prefer a little rest and refreshment before she takes the floor again, sir.”
His presumption in answering on her behalf made Evangeline fret less about sparing the squire’s feelings. It made her wonder if even the kindest of men were apt to overbear the women they claimed to care about.
“I am not tired in the least.” She took Mr. Brookes’s arm. “Dancing requires less energy than keeping up with five children. If you are brave enough to risk my clumsy dancing, I shall be happy to oblige you.”
As they made their way toward the floor, she murmured, “You are my hero, sir. In gratitude for rescuing me, I shall do my best to avoid treading on your toes.”
The vicar chuckled. “I would appreciate that, but any gratitude you owe is to Mr. Chase. It was he who asked my help to extract you from an awkward situation. He seemed quite concerned on your behalf. I fear I
was not as obliging as I might have been. I suggested he should do the honors himself if it mattered so much to him. I thought he intended to, but then he went off somewhere.”
Why had Jasper asked his friend to intervene rather than doing it himself? Evangeline wondered as she and Mr. Brookes took their places.
During their dance, she managed to keep her promise not to lame her partner, but it required considerable effort. Afterward she received a few more invitations and was able to avoid Squire Brunskill.
But even as she danced with those other partners, Evangeline was intensely aware when Jasper rejoined the company. Would he ask her to dance again, or had he taken her earlier rebuff to heart?
She made herself available for an invitation from him, but none was forthcoming. Her heartbeat picked up tempo whenever Jasper took a step in her direction. It slowed again when he approached one of the other ladies in the party instead. Clearly he considered it his duty to take a turn with each of them, even Mrs. Leveson and Mrs. Thorpe. Had he only danced with her out of a sense of duty? Had all the thrilling things she thought he’d said been no more than products of her futile yearning?
At last Jasper managed to catch Margaret Webster between partners and invited her to take the floor with him. Evangeline turned down an invitation to dance that set, for she knew it would be impossible to keep her mind on the steps. Instead she sipped punch and pretended to converse with Abigail Brookes, who was content to do most of the talking.
Evangeline could not deny that Jasper and Miss Webster made a handsome couple, his dark coloring an attractive contrast to her fair, golden beauty. They danced well together, too. Miss Webster was so sure and graceful in her movements, Jasper seemed more relaxed and confident.
Reason reminded Evangeline that she had practically ordered Jasper to pay more attention to Miss Webster. But reason could do nothing to ease the jagged pain that ripped through her heart when she watched them clasp hands or exchange a smile.
“P-pardon me.” She interrupted Abigail in mid word. “I must excuse myself. I am not accustomed to such late hours and so much excitement. I should get home... that is... back to Amberwood.”
She tried to slip away, but Abigail followed her. “Are you unwell, Miss Fairfax? Can I assist you in any way?”
“I am not ill.” Evangeline tried to wave the vicar’s sister away. “Only tired and my head aches. It is not far to walk back and fresh air may be all the remedy I need.”
“Nonsense.” Abigail refused to be dismissed. “You cannot walk that distance alone after dark. I will drive you home in Mr. Chase’s gig.”
“Please do not trouble yourself,” Evangeline begged. “This part of the country is perfectly safe. I do not want to spoil your evening.”
“You will do nothing of the kind,” Abigail insisted as Evangeline collected her bonnet and shawl. “If I take another sip of punch, I will turn into a lemon and I cannot dance another step in these slippers for they pinch something vicious. Wait here while I tell the others we are going.”
Much as she appreciated Abigail’s concern, Evangeline could not do what she asked. It was vital she get away on her own into the cool, calm night, where she could compose herself. If that failed, at least the darkness would hide any tears she was foolish enough to shed.
The instant Abigail disappeared from view, Evangeline slipped outside and hurried away. Even the waiting coachmen took no notice to her early departure. She made her way through the darkened village, careful not to draw any attention to herself. Once out in the moon-dappled countryside on the road to Amberwood, she heaved a great sigh that was part relief and part anguish.
The night seemed to want to comfort her. The breeze rustling through the leaves and the distant gurgle of the river were two of the most soothing sounds she could imagine. The summer air was scented with the wholesome sweetness of new-mown hay and clover. From the heavens, the lady in the moon looked down on her with a pitying gaze.
But before she had a proper chance to reflect on the events of the evening, Evangeline heard a vehicle approaching from behind and glimpsed the bobbing glow of a lantern. A moment later, the gig overtook her.
“Really, Miss Brookes,” she called in a sharper voice than she intended, “it was not necessary for you to come after me like this.”
“I am not Miss Brookes,” Jasper replied. “And I believe it was entirely necessary that I find you.”
Hearing Evangeline’s voice, as intrepid as ever, set Jasper’s heart beating properly again for the first time since he’d set off after her. He was torn between the urge to rage at her for frightening him by running off and an equally powerful one to gather her in his arms and deluge her face with kisses.
He doubted she would react well to either of those.
Instead he said, “Climb in. I will drive you the rest of the way home.”
It was not a very gallant offer, but the lady had managed to get herself out of the gig very capably only a few hours ago. Besides, he did not trust himself to help her up without giving in to the temptation to embrace her.
Much to his relief, Evangeline did as he asked with no argument. When she was seated safely beside him, Jasper jogged the reins, and the horse continued on its way at a more sedate pace than it had come from the village.
After considering and discarding several possible openings, Jasper said, “You should not have gone off on your own. You know that, don’t you?”
“Indeed I do not,” she replied stoutly, though her voice sounded as if it had been stretched thin. “What I do know is that I should never have come in the first place.”
“Please don’t say that,” he begged her.
“Why not?” she demanded. “It is true. I made a fool of myself stumbling around the dance floor all evening.”
Jasper sensed there was more to it than that. Had his forward behavior made her regret attending the assembly? “I doubt anyone else noticed. The local folk know you have more important things to do than practice dancing.”
“So I have.” Evangeline shifted a little on the seat beside him. Was she trying to inch as far from him as possible? “I am a working woman with responsibilities and plans, not a fine lady whose only aim in life is to secure a husband. I had no business traipsing about an assembly at all hours, drinking punch and chattering away about a lot of nonsense.”
Jasper flinched. Had he deluded himself that she might be receptive to his approaches? Perhaps he should have asked his courting teacher for a lesson on how to tell when he was winning a lady’s regard and when she was trying to politely discourage him. “I suppose you think I was chattering nonsense this evening when I tried to tell you how I feel?”
“Perhaps you were. You might have been practicing your courting technique on me to prepare yourself to propose to Miss Webster. The two of you made a very well-matched pair on the dance floor.” There could be no mistaking the plaintive note in her voice. It wrung Jasper’s heart even as it gave him a sweet taste of hope.
“Did we? Is that why you left early, because seeing Miss Webster and me together made you feel the way I did watching the squire make up to you?”
“Why should you care about the squire?” she demanded. “He means nothing to me!”
“Perhaps not, but you mean a great deal to me, Evangeline.” There, he’d said it as plain and bold as could be—the thing he’d been trying to tell her all evening in spite of her efforts to discourage him. Was it too soon to declare his feelings or years too late?
Evangeline did not reply, which made him fear he should have held his tongue. The last thing he wanted was for her to lump him in with Squire Brunskill—a man of long acquaintance who had spoiled her regard for him with his sudden clumsy overtures.
Since it was impossible to take back his declaration, Jasper forged ahead, even if it meant digging himself in deeper. “Life is not a dance floor, you know. It does not matter how well matched a couple may appear. The important thing is how well in step they are in essentials and how much
they care for one another.”
How he wished it were light out so he could see Evangeline’s expression and look into her eyes. They would tell him whether or not he dared hope, even if she refused to speak... or could not bring herself to.
Desperate to provoke some response from her, he demanded, “Do you want me to marry Miss Webster, even if it is you I care for?”
“Yes!” she cried as if he had tormented the confession out of her. That one outburst seemed to uncork a jug of potently fermented emotion. It spewed forth in a torrent of frenzied weeping, amid which Jasper thought he heard her sob, “No!”
He had been paying almost no heed to his driving, trusting the horse to find its way home at whatever speed suited it. Now he abandoned any pretense of attention. Dropping the reins, he reached for Evangeline, as he had longed to do all evening. He had never thought he would hear her in tears. Not long ago, he would have believed her incapable of weeping. Now he knew it must require terrible provocation. Delighted as he was to glimpse her feelings at last, he reproached himself for distressing her.
“Shh!” He wrapped his arms around her the way he would one of his children if they were hurt or upset. His feelings for her were every bit as strong as for them. He wanted to provide for Evangeline and protect her, comfort her and care for her. After a lifetime spent caring for others, she deserved all that and more. “There now, dear heart, it will be all right. I will not do anything you don’t want. You do care for me a little, after all, don’t you?”
She was still weeping too hard to speak, but he could feel her head move up and down against his shoulder in a welcome nod of agreement.
“That is the best news I have heard in years!” A powerful wave of happiness swept over Jasper, leaving behind a film of briny moisture in his eyes.
“We were meant for one another, you and me.” He savored the sensation of her in his arms, where she so obviously belonged. “I wish I’d seen it sooner, but I am thankful I found out before it was too late.”