by Dawn Brower
Pleasure warmed the pit of his belly and he refused to analyze why. “Which would be what, Evangeline? For the rain isn’t expected to relent and the tracks won’t have been repaired.”
She shook her head. “I will think of something.”
It was pure madness to have her beneath the same roof as him, but what was done couldn’t be undone. And they’d yet to talk about why their relationship died.
Perhaps they would still. The night wasn’t all that advanced, and suddenly his exhaustion had fled in the face of foolish anticipation.
Chapter 4
Evangeline stared up at the plastered ceiling and sighed for what had to be the tenth time since Jasper had shown her into his bedroom. Did an hour pass or had it been more time than that? She didn’t know, for her mind had continued to plague her with thoughts of what she should have said, done, responded.
She turned onto her side, but that proved to be problematic, for his cedar and sage scent lingered on the pillow beneath her cheek. The whiff of that soap, with the faintest hint of lime, reminded her of spending time in his company years ago, of being so close to him that his smell intoxicated her to the point she’d waited for his kiss. In vain, of course, for when he had kissed her during their courtship, those pecks had been uninspired.
Perhaps if she had known how things would have ended between them, of how lonely her life would have been in her pursuit of freedom, she would have taken the initiative and kissed him first. Would he have risen to the occasion and honed amorous skills, gone farther than removing the pins from her hair to see her tresses down? A thrill went through her core as she imagined such an embrace that would have started innocent enough but would have perhaps ended with each of them in some degree of undress and hands and lips exploring skin and limbs.
With a sigh, she flopped onto her back and once more contemplated the shadow-shrouded ceiling. Since she’d neglected to close the drapes and there was no maid or servants of any sort in this strictly bachelor abode, the tracks of rain on the window pane made interesting patterns upon the wall and ceiling plaster that moved ever so slowly through the room.
Much like her life. The going was difficult and slow, yet she didn’t have much to show for the struggle, had little to talk about, but she was compelled to tell him everything, even if it portrayed her in a poor light. He had shared so many aspects of his life, even down to the collection of bonbons he’d created after she’d left him with a broken heart.
Guilt poked her gut like the insistent stab of a pin. Had he loved her back then? The thought brought heat into her cheeks. He must have, for why else would he have intended to offer her marriage? Yet his actions had never indicated such. Their courtship had been perfunctory at best. That didn’t win a girl’s heart. Or her respect.
Had she loved him? Her throat constricted. She thought she had, or perhaps she had loved the idea of being in love, for the reality of that and the subsequent potential marriage had terrified her. What exactly was love then? Shouldn’t such an emotion have counteracted the fear? Perhaps I didn’t love him enough.
She struggled upright, flung off the bedclothes and then swung her legs over the edge of the bed. I need to talk to him. Regardless of the time of night or that she was clad in a white cotton nightgown, she stood. The neck was high enough and the sleeves and skirt long enough that nothing shocking was displayed. And now was as good a time as any, for she’d let anger carry her away from him earlier that night before she’d had the chance to set the record straight.
If they were to be parted in the morning, she wanted no more misunderstandings between them. She wanted free of the memories of him, and then perhaps her life would take on more success. No matter what, she couldn’t remain in his bed any longer, haunted by the scent of him, tortured with thoughts of what might have been between them, or dying a thousand deaths with the thought that he’d pleasured women on that very bed. Regardless of the fact that he’d admitted to not having a love interest, romance and coitus were not the same thing, and they weren’t mutually exclusive.
Evangeline shook her head and forced those thoughts away. What Jasper did was no longer her concern. When dawn came, they would have nothing else to say to each other, and they would finally write “the end” to their history together.
I will never see him again. The knowledge brought tears to her eyes, and with annoyance, she dashed them away. It was merely mourning the loss of a friendship, nothing more.
She crossed the hardwood on silent, bare feet and when she cracked open the door, she paused to listen. Nothing stirred from the small parlor across the way except the ever-present sound of the beating rain and the loud pound of her heart. The second she pulled the panel wider, soft snoring issued from that location. Once more, she hesitated, this time just outside the bedroom. Jasper snored. What a wholly endearing discovery. It made him more human, more approachable, as if he weren’t the paragon of virtue, the product of a traditional ton family she’d made him out to be.
Drat.
Then she forced the thought away, locked it into the box in her mind where all thoughts of what might have been dwelled. It mattered not. Her future did not include the chocolatier, no matter that his new personality intrigued her at every turn.
Darkness and shadows shrouded the parlor. Furniture loomed as imposing sentinels and obstacles she navigated around on the hunt to locate him. She drew her fingertips along the back of a sofa featuring a high, scrolled woodworked back. Two matching chairs flanked it, and across a low table, another such piece rested. That was where Jasper lay, a plain woolen blanket covering his long frame, his stockinged feet sticking out from beneath the edge. As with the snoring, the socks gave him an approachable air and her heart squeezed. He looked so… domestic and dear.
Perhaps I shouldn’t wake him.
As she stood in indecision, his snoring ceased and he blinked open his eyes. Upon seeing her, they widened and he sat up. The blanket slid down his chest, revealing his gray-and-white striped woolen pajamas. “Oh!” Startled by his sudden movement that yanked her back to reality, one hand flew to her throat, the much-washed lace of her nightdress tickling her palm. “I apologize for waking you.”
“Is there cause for alarm?” He rubbed his eyes. Part of his hair on one side stuck straight up from his head and her fingers itched to smooth it back down. “Are you in peril?”
“No, no.” She held up her other hand in an effort to calm him. “Please, do not distress yourself. All is well.” When he narrowed his eyes and swept his gaze over her person, she became acutely aware of her lack of proper dress. Gooseflesh raced along her skin, and beneath the cotton of her gown, her nipples hardened into tight buds as his interest briefly lingered. Double drat. Scuttling around the table and taking refuge on the opposite sofa, she tucked her legs beneath her, making certain to hide her naked toes as well as to pull the fabric away from her body. “I thought to come out here and talk if you found yourself as restless and sleepless as I, but you are not.” Cheeky man.
He snorted. “I am awake now, so let’s not waste it.”
“Very well.” How did one broach the subject of one’s life after one made a muck of someone else’s?
“What did you wish to talk about?” Jasper raked his fingers through his hair, returning the tresses to some semblance of order. He adjusted his position on the sofa as if he were entertaining during proper hours instead of the middle of the night when they were both scandalously under-dressed.
“Me.” How selfish that sounded. “Or rather, what I have filled my time with since we… since you and I…”
“Since you ran from Hedgebourne Grange without a backward glance?” Wry humor clung to the question.
It had been a marvelous summer day and the sun was hot. Even now she swore she could feel its heat upon her cheeks. She’d worn an amethyst gown that afternoon in deference to his liking of the color, the flounces and lace on the skirt a particular favorite of hers. As they’d walked through the gardens on the
estate, hand in hand, she’d talked of inconsequential things, never knowing of his proposal plans. After the incident, she’d donated the gown to a friend, for she’d been unable to look upon it without foul memories or tears. She narrowed her eyes as doubt and sadness crowded her chest. “Thank you for never failing to remind me of that day.”
“I cannot help it, for that moment was the redefinition of our relationship. And my life.” When he reached for a box of matches that rested near an oil lamp, she shook her head.
“Please don’t. At times, delicate conversation such as this is best done in the concealing shadows.” At least then any emotions she might reveal would remain hidden from him. Not for worlds did she wish to appear vulnerable.
“Very well.” Jasper leaned back against the gray crushed velvet, and she suspected it matched his eyes. “You have my attention.” He arranged the blanket over his lap.
“For months after I returned to London, I was confounded as to what I should do with my life.” She pleated the voluminous skirt of her nightdress. “I was ashamed of myself for leaving without an explanation.”
“And so you should have been,” he agreed without giving quarter. “I shouldn’t have been the only one to suffer.”
“You were not.” Guilt twisted in her belly. Every day for weeks she’d berated herself. “My mother let me wallow for a while, and then one morning, she entered my room and told me I had to move forward with my life. She’d made an appointment with a dressmaker. It was time for me to circulate within the ton and attract a husband.” She worried her bottom lip with her teeth. “My dear parents, having taken notice that their offspring was underfoot and gripped with a blue mood, decided I needed to make connections, and that meant furthering their reach with an advantageous marriage, as is the fate of every woman regardless of what their dreams and aspirations may be.”
“Were you successful in that much-crowded pool?” His voice was guarded and the fingers of one hand dug into the cushion of the sofa.
“Let’s say I avidly protested the men my mother was inclined to shove at me.” A brief smile curved her lips. Frustration didn’t adequately express what she put her parents through, but none of the men felt right. None could live up to what Jasper had brought to her days even when he’d been starched and proper. “Eventually, there was a gentleman I became interested in.”
“Oh?”
She nodded. “He was not one of the austere, stodgy, traditional-minded men my mother approved of. In fact, none of my family signed off on the match.” Perhaps that what had attracted her to the man in the first place—he wasn’t remotely like the men she’d had paraded before her. “Frances was a merchant who ran a successful shipping outfit. He courted me for six months.”
“Did you love him?” The words were low and seemed pulled from his throat.
Silence built between them. The answer would not reflect well on her, but then, nothing in this telling would. “No.” She swallowed hard but held Jasper’s gaze, proud that hers didn’t waver. “I thought I could eventually, so I let him continue to court me. He was a fine enough man, and easy on the eyes. Then he proposed. I thought marriage was what I wanted.”
“Obviously, you held your stance on that.” Bitterness roiled through his response. “How soon was this after you’d parted with me?”
“By that time, perhaps a year and a half.”
“I see.” He flung himself off the sofa, his blanket falling unheeded to the floor. In his stocking feet and pajamas, he paced the short space in front of the furniture. “So then it wasn’t the thought of tying yourself to me that you found objectionable after all. You are merely dead set against matrimony.”
“I’m not.” How could she explain the convoluted thoughts to him when she didn’t fully understand them herself? “The concept of marriage is a weighty thing. After a man is wed, his life continues on much like it always has. When a woman weds, her whole existence is required to change, and she is more or less expected to be a dutiful wife, mother, housekeeper and flawless host.”
Jasper scoffed. “This is abhorrent to you?”
“No. Yes.” She sighed. “I am not sure that is the life I wish for. It is a prison, complete with golden shackles.”
“Preposterous notion.” He stared at her. “If two people love each other, marriage is the next logical step in a relationship, as is becoming a wife and mother.” His voice lowered. “However, if a woman does not wish to become pregnant, there are ways and devices readily available to prevent such an occurrence, if one only aspires to be a wife.”
Would he make that sacrifice? “Perhaps, but a man wouldn’t willingly offer that, for isn’t it the duty of a gentleman in society to further his line?”
Another long swath of silence fell over then. Then he spoke, his voice still low and intense. “The line, in my case, has been furthered by my brother’s children. Also, if a man loved his wife enough, he wouldn’t care what society wanted. He would defer to her wishes, for that is what perfect love does.”
She rolled her eyes. “Logic has nothing to do with love and neither does perfection.”
“That’s the first sensible thing you’ve said since the train platform.” When he turned to her, a smile tipped up one corner of his mouth. “You’re correct. Love should never be logical. It should be all-consuming and silly and insane. It should defy common sense and make a person feel as if they could fly…” His voice trailed off as he stared, and then he cleared his throat. “Perhaps love is an overrated affliction, and in saying so, it is rarely perfect.”
“I agree.”
“To which part?” He stopped pacing and sank into his original spot.
“I agree with everything you just said about love. It should be a swift, sure something that two people tumble headlong into, complete with desire and the knowledge that the future will work itself out because of that love.” It was something she and Jasper hadn’t shared and had led to her flight.
He quirked an eyebrow. “Conversing, talking about one’s fears with one’s partner is key.” His eyes glittered in the dim flash of faraway lightning filtering in through the window at his back. The rain beat against the glass with relentless precision. “You were not in love with me five years ago.” It was a statement, more of a realization than a question.
“I wouldn’t say it that way.” Now they were in the thick of it. She smoothed a hand over her nightgown and then began pleating it all over again. “I was fond of you, of course.”
“Fondness doesn’t equate to the sort of love you spoke of.” Resignation filled his tone. His gaze jogged away from hers.
“No.” Best to tell the truth and be done with it. “Perhaps I loved you too much, and the enormity of all that entailed frightened me.”
“I would have been by your side, fighting every imagined threat, making certain I was your anchor during the storms.”
Tears prickled the backs of her eyelids. Such pretty words had the power to pull her back under, lure her into the web of a lifestyle she didn’t want. Time to snip that thread for good. “There was no passion, no zest in our connection.” She encouraged the long braid of her hair over one shoulder and finger-combed the end above the ribbon that held it bound. “I… I needed more from you, for I could never commit myself to a dreary, lackluster marriage.”
“At least now I have a reason.” He rubbed a hand along his jaw and the side of his face. “I was without amorous intent. Regardless of how well we suited in other aspects of our lives, this was, for you, the one sticking point.”
“I would say instead you were too much a gentleman. Perhaps you were too polite.” Evangeline shook her head but couldn’t dislodge the tight ball of emotion in her throat. When said aloud, it sounded petty, but that wasn’t her point at all. Why shouldn’t a woman wish for passion-filled kisses and thrilling embraces from her suitor? “I didn’t want proper and stodgy, Jasper. I didn’t want another fine, upstanding member of the ton who has had all the excitement and personality bred out
of him.”
“That was made painfully obvious. How silly of me to propose, then. How disappointed you must have been.”
“Don’t be like that.” Her stomach muscles clenched at his sarcastic display. “It was five years ago. I hardly knew my own mind then let alone the state of my heart.” Not that she definitively knew it now. Could it be that she’d held Jasper up as an ideal, a measuring stick of sorts against every male she’d met after him? Worse, had she subconsciously found them all lacking, despite his lack of passion? Perhaps that had been an error in judgment on her part as well. She stared at him with the dark shadow of stubble clinging to his jaw. That queer little thrill zipped down her spine once more. She had consigned him to the past, hadn’t she?
“You could have given me the courtesy of being honest. We could have talked.” The annoyance in his voice snapped her back to the conversation. “I could have changed or at the very least given a go to being that man you desire.”
Oh God. He had been willing to learn, and she hadn’t given him the time. “That’s all we ever did, don’t you see?” She unfolded herself, gaining her feet as restless energy filled her. “There is more to a romance than the art of conversation or how one looks or what one does while in a drawing room.” Why couldn’t he understand? “Answer me this. Did you love me?” Why did she want to know? Their relationship belonged to memories.
“Of course I did. The battered state of my heart confirmed that I felt something deep for you. It took copious amounts of time to heal.”
“The same could be said for wounded pride,” she said in a soft voice.
“Touché.” Jasper stretched an arm along the back of the sofa, looking for all the word like a man who had moved on from his broken engagement. “Our relationship might not have had the heat or bedazzlement of a comet streaking across the sky, but I was willing to wait for that fire to catch once we wed.”
“And I wanted that fire as insurance. I didn’t want connections or the accolades that would come from a sensible ton marriage. I certainly didn’t want the gilded cage such a union would bring.”