Lily increased her wriggles, and dirty water slammed into him. This time, Miss Carberry did laugh, and Lily barked joyfully.
Jasper should have frowned.
He should have scowled.
Blast it, he was certain even Miss Carberry would have been understanding if he’d sworn.
But instead he chuckled.
“Oh, you’re a very bad girl,” Miss Carberry said mournfully. “That’s not polite. Most men don’t like being covered in dirty water.”
Lily wagged her tail, as if happy simply to be included in the conversation. Her adherence to morals was evidently of less importance.
“Come, let’s go back to the manor house,” Jasper said.
“Of course.” Margaret handed him a shawl.
He eyed the red and pink cashmere, lined with gold fringes, with suspicion. “What’s this?”
“It’s to keep you warm.”
“I can’t use that,” he said.
The shawl had flowers on it. Not that men went about wearing shawls that didn’t have flowers. Shawls were an item of clothing not explored by men.
She rolled her eyes. “Please. Or do you want to get sick?”
Jasper pouted. “I never get sick.”
“And you’re willing to test that theory?”
He frowned and shifted his feet. Water sloshed from his attire, and his shirt remained drenched. As did his trousers. As did his tailcoat.
He was certain it hadn’t been this chilly before he’d dove into the water.
“Or perhaps I should just give it to Lily,” Miss Carberry said. “And then if you change your mind, you can take it from her.”
Jasper’s nostrils flared. “That won’t be necessary.”
Miss Carberry beamed and handed him the shawl. He sighed, then proceeded to dry himself off.
“You can let people help you,” she said.
“I help others,” Jasper said. “That more than suffices.”
She looked at him curiously for a moment, and he wondered whether he’d said too much. Most likely he had. He felt off-kilter.
The sky had turned brilliant shades of pink and tangerine, but as they ambled, the sky darkened. Now that Jasper was no longer hopping over barriers, the path to the castle was longer.
A scent of vanilla emanated from her, and he inhaled.
Jasper had an odd temptation to kiss her. He wondered what it would feel like to draw her close to him. Her large eyes might widen, and her long thick eyelashes might flutter. Her cheeks might pinken.
Would her soft lips part? How might they feel against his own? How might...other parts of her body feel against his?
He swallowed hard, and she turned her head to him.
“Are you quite well, Your Grace?”
“I’m fine,” he said, but his voice sounded oddly husky, and concern emanated from her large eyes.
Nobody looked at him with that concern.
His friends often teased him, seeming to find amusement in his quest for festivities. Even Lord Metcalfe, his closest friend from childhood and who had the estate adjoining his in Surrey, often hinted—strongly hinted, that Jasper should be serious.
Nobody worried about him.
Debutantes with oppressive mothers weren’t supposed to look at him with concern.
The sensation wasn’t entirely unpleasant. Miss Carberry emanated a calmness about her, despite all her troubles, and Jasper found himself relaxing in her presence.
The world had long since darkened, the sunset vanished during the search for Lily, but he found himself staring at the sky all the same. Stars sparkled ahead, glittering in such splendor he wondered why he did not stare at them every night.
“Thank you for finding, Lily,” she said.
His heart squeezed, but he gave a nonchalant shrug. “I wanted to assist you.”
“Your clothes are ruined.”
“I have more clothes.”
They strolled toward the castle. It loomed before them, its towers now merely a dark silhouette against the shimmering sky.
Somehow, it made the castle no less magnificent.
Lily wagged her tail as they proceeded back. It seemed impossible to imagine she’d been doing athletic feats before. She strode mellowly, calmed by the evening’s adventure, and Jasper’s heart felt full.
Was this what married life was like? Taking pleasant walks and discussing the day’s events? It was unlike most time he spent with women.
Miss Carberry did not flutter her lashes with a speed matched only by the expert movements of her fan. She hadn’t mentioned yet in the conversation that she was fully capable of managing a household and say that she could be depended upon to keep the servants in check. Miss Carberry hadn’t spoken demeaningly of other women, women whom Jasper had considered her to be friends with, as if to not-so-subtly imply that she was the preferred choice.
Miss Carberry had absolutely no expectations of him.
The woman was most intriguing.
He glanced at her, even though it was dark. “You must find it odd to be so far away from Scotland.”
“I do,” she admitted, as if surprised the topic had evolved from the antics of dogs and attire maintenance to herself.
“Do you miss it very much?”
She hesitated. “Yes.”
Somehow the answer made his throat dry, and an odd sensation, something very much like disappointment, thrummed through him.
“I’ll always miss the landscape,” Miss Carberry mused. “I hadn’t expected to become so attached to the rugged slopes of hills. I hadn’t thought I’d loved moss and rocks so much.”
“Do you want to return?”
She sighed, then shook her head. “This is my life now. I have some friends in the capital. And my grandmother is here.” She glanced at the dog. “And Lily.”
Jasper nodded.
He understood.
“I’ve never been to Scotland,” he admitted. “I think I would like it.”
“You would.”
He’d traveled often in his twenties, and last year he’d even gone to the German-speaking part of the continent with Lord Metcalfe, but he’d never ventured north. There was much he needed to learn. He couldn’t simply do the Grand Tour every few years. There was more to the world than Italian sculptures crammed before canvases and tapestries.
There was nature itself.
Just as there were also quiet walks with a companion.
But then, Miss Carberry had been going on a quiet walk with a companion.
Ainsworth.
In truth, the Duke of Ainsworth, was extremely suited to Miss Carberry. Ainsworth had been top of his class in Eton, and top of his class at Cambridge. Even the tutors had seemed to indicate he did not need to excel to such an extent, given the fact his future was already set. Most men with large estates to manage did not write research articles.
But then, Ainsworth was not most men.
Jasper had struggled in school. He hadn’t had a natural affinity for fractions and Latin declensions, and anything his tutors had managed to drum into him at the time had long since been forgotten. Truly, he wondered why he’d bothered to learn at all.
“So, there’s no one who interests you?” he asked.
Miss Carberry was silent.
Suspiciously silent.
“Er—perhaps.” She swept her hand through her hair and stopped to gaze at him. Her eyes hadn’t seemed dull before, but now they gleamed with a definite confidence.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
JASPER ALMOST DREW back.
He’d considered Miss Carberry to be given to formality, as so many of those studious were prone to do. The unfortunate truth was that knowing society rules and being sufficiently deferential in the presence of one’s elders was unlikely to suffice in endearing one to the ton, even if following rules strictly was the sort of thing that would get one top mark’s from one’s tutor. He doubted governesses’ grading systems varied widely.
Miss Carberry’s cheeks had pinkened becomingl
y, and Jasper found himself beaming back.
He did have good friends.
“Now tell me, which duke caught your eye? Was it Ainsworth? Or Hammett? It so often is Hammett. That man is quite the boxer. Sonnets have been written on his upper body strength.”
Miss Carberry widened her gaze for a moment, then shook her head. “Oh, no.”
“You find them lacking?”
“They’re fine,” she said hastily. “But not appropriate for me.”
“They’re not good enough for you?” Jasper pondered this. Miss Carberry was very good.
“I am certain they are quite good,” she amended. “Truly.”
“Yet you have reservations?”
She nodded miserably. “I know it’s important for you that I find a husband.”
He furrowed his brow. It had been important, but it had been because he’d desired to help her.
“So, you should be relieved to learn that I have found a potential prospect.”
“Oh.”
Jasper scrutinized her. Surely most women wouldn’t have such glazed expressions when contemplating spending the rest of one’s life with someone who wasn’t a duke. Besides, Jasper knew the guest list. He’d chosen an intimate house party. Large house parties might have considerable advantages, but he’d suspected Miss Carberry’s quiet nature might be overwhelmed by the incessant laughter and passionate discussions that his house parties seemed to so inevitably inspire.
Good Lord. Had she fallen for someone inappropriate? The point of having her find a husband was for her to marry someone lofty, someone who would make her happy. And of course, the last thing Jasper required was for Mrs. Carberry to be upset at him. The woman acted sufficiently unpredictable without having reason to be angry at him. He was certain if Miss Carberry decided to run off with one of Jasper’s staff, Mrs. Carberry would feel entitled to expressing that emotion.
“My footmen do tend to have regular features,” Jasper said.
“Your footmen?” Miss Carberry jerked her head toward him.
“And my gardeners,” Jasper acknowledged. In truth, his gardeners did possess that healthy gleam people liked. Their attire might be less formal, but no doubt that had advantages.
He only hoped none of the gardeners had practiced this with Miss Carberry.
“I am not referring to one of your staff,” Miss Carberry said sternly. “That would be—” She shook her head. “Well, it wouldn’t be right.”
“Then who exactly are you referring to?”
“Mr. Octavius Owens, of course,” Miss Carberry said.
Jasper furrowed his brow.
Miss Carberry sighed. “He works with your friend, the Duke of Ainsworth.”
“Oh.” Jasper blinked. “I suppose I need to make his acquaintanceship.”
“You’ll see more of him,” Miss Carberry said confidently. “He enjoys a close friendship with the duke.”
“Ah.” Jasper frowned.
Perhaps his thoughts truly had been elsewhere when his friends had arrived. He’d been distracted thinking of his plans for the house party, and he must have neglected to hear Hammett talk about his friend.
“And how did you speak with him?” he queried.
For some reason the question seemed to make Miss Carberry’s delectable cheeks pinken.
“It’s—er—not important.”
He raised an eyebrow, and she inhaled.
“There may have been an—er—tripping incident in the library.”
“He tripped? How clumsy.”
“Er—” Her cheeks pinkened. “Mr. Owens did not trip.”
Guilt swerved through Jasper, and he cursed himself.
“Not that it’s bad to trip,” he said awkwardly.
“It is clumsy,” she admitted.
“I hope you’re not hurt.”
“I’m entirely fine,” she reassured him hastily. “And it was entirely my fault.”
There was that customary niceness again.
“I assume this Mr. Owens was not responsible for your incident?” Jasper asked.
“N-No,” Miss Carberry said. “But he witnessed it. And then he came and helped me up.”
Well.
It was scarcely knight in shining armor material, but Jasper supposed that not everyone could act with his remarkable gallantry.
If Miss Carberry had fallen, he would have rushed toward her. He would have pulled her into his arms so she would not need to rise inelegantly from the floor, and he would have carried her to the nearest chaise-longue. He envisioned the scene happily, until he remembered Miss Carberry had fallen earlier this month, and no one had been there to assist her.
Miss Carberry deserved better.
“What did you talk about with him?” Jasper asked.
She shrugged. “Books.”
Well. That shouldn’t be a surprise. Most people might discuss books in libraries. It was the sort of topic that would occur one to speak about with higher frequency.
“He suggested another book for me to read,” he continued. “He noticed I was carrying a copy of Gulliver’s Travels. He was concerned the subject matter might be...unsuitable.”
“He warned you about reading?” Jasper’s brows soared upward, with the speed of bullets.
“Well, it was Jonathan Swift,” Miss Carberry explained.
Jasper inhaled. “How horrendous.”
“You enjoy Jonathan Swift?” Surprise sounded in Miss Carberry’s voice, and he wanted to tell her that he did. He wanted to tell her he had multiple intellectual passions that equaled hers.
Unfortunately, that would not be true.
“In truth, I rather avoid reading in general,” Jasper admitted. “But that doesn’t mean some person should go about warning people against reading. Anyone should read what they desire to read.”
“Oh.” Miss Carberry stared at him. “That’s an unusual sentiment.”
He shrugged. He had a similar generous philosophy on merrymaking, and though Jasper did not understand why someone would want to sit still for hours while holding up some leather-bound pages, he did know it made some people happy.
Miss Carberry, no doubt, belonged to that category of people who took pleasure in such an odd activity.
Well, let her read.
This Mr. Owens should not be discouraging her from it.
“You should read the book,” Jasper said firmly.
“I will,” Miss Carberry said. “Despite the man’s recommendations on books on botany.”
Jasper shuddered. “That sounds even more tiresome than a novel.”
Miss Carberry exhaled. “I’m afraid I’ve given you the wrong impression on the man. He’s really quite nice.”
“Be careful.”
“But you wanted me to marry.”
Jasper’s eyes widened. He’d never even met this man. Why was Miss Carberry speaking of marrying him? He was vaguely aware this was probably his fault, though he did not like to linger on the subject. Perhaps he shouldn’t have so enthusiastically declared this was her weekend to find a husband. It was the sort of statement bound to put romantic notions in a person’s head. But then, he’d hardly thought to vet his friends’ guests. Miss Carberry was supposed to choose a husband from one of his friends.
“He was simply making conversation,” Miss Carberry said, her voice trembling.
Jasper sighed. “I hope so.”
Women could be far too nice, and he thought Miss Carberry might succumb to that quality. After all, she exuded pleasantness. She’d been so nice she’d sneaked from his room when she’d had the chance to claim him for a husband, and she’d been so nice she’d evidently forgiven her mother’s actions.
“Perhaps you needn’t always be nice,” he said.
She raised her eyebrows. “You don’t want me to be nice?”
“I want you to be happy.”
“Your Grace!” A voice shouted, and Jasper groaned.
“Your Grace!” A different loud, bellowing cry sounded. It was unmis
takable to hear the slight tinge of accent.
He’d forgotten about his new hires.
He’d been enjoying his stroll with Miss Carberry and he braced himself for the moment to end.
Murmurings sounded, then Lily began to bark.
Blast.
“Who is that?” Miss Carberry asked.
“Those would be my bodyguards,” Jasper said.
“They are most intimidating.”
Jasper nodded proudly. He’d made good hires.
She giggled. “You needed two bodyguards to protect yourself from my mother?”
“It’s not so absurd,” he said. “Besides, who knows which other of my servants she might be bribing. Those trunks were quite large. It could be filled with a great deal of coin.”
She laughed again, and his heart sang.
Unfortunately, the sound also acted as a beacon for more things than joy, for in the next moment, the two guards rushed toward them, their pace unhampered even by the darkness.
“Your Grace!” One of the men shouted, and his bald head glinted in the moonlight. He turned to his companion. “He’s with that woman!”
His new hires sprinted toward Jasper and Miss Carberry, then pulled Jasper away.
Clearly, their athleticism was not confined to strength. These men excelled at speed as well.
Lily began to bark, but even though any man in possession of any sense may have been wary of approaching her, these men experienced no such qualms. Evidently, they were either sufficiently well-trained or sufficiently conscious of Jasper’s generous paychecks, that they did not let a dog frighten them.
“We’re here for you now,” one of the men said in a soothing tone a doctor may have envied.
“Good,” Jasper said. “But it’s truly not necessary—”
In the next moment, Jasper’s words were swallowed. Strong arms swept around his waist, and he was turned upside down and placed over the man’s shoulders.
This would not do.
Nobody put Jasper over his shoulder.
He cleared his throat. “Put me down!”
The man did not put him down. “Don’t worry, Your Grace!”
Jasper gritted his teeth. “This is embarrassing and unnecessary.”
“We’re just protecting you,” the man said reassuringly.
Lily lunged at the man, and in the next moment the man took off, displaying the same speed as he and his companion had shown before.
All You Need is a Duke (The Duke Hunters Club, #1) Page 12