For Love of the Duke (The Heart of a Duke Book 2) (14 page)

She snatched the list out of his hands. “You needn’t laugh at me.”

Jasper continued to shake, as he laughed for the first time in three years. He laughed until tears seeped from the corners of his eyes, the feel and sound of it foreign, and yet, freeing. He’d never thought to laugh again.

As his laughter subsided to a small chuckle, he reached for the list. “If I may?” He took it from her hands.

She grabbed for it but he held the velum beyond her reach. “Obviously you aren’t aware that it is ungentlemanly to grab something from a lady’s hands.”

“Obviously,” he muttered under his breath. He scanned the list.

I am well-versed in poetry.
There was that.

I despise London
. Well, they were of like opinions, there.

I’ll not require a large wardrobe or fine jewels
. He had enough money to shower her daily with diamonds and sapphires if she so wished.

I can provide as many children as desired.
His eyes fixed on that item. The images that crept into his mind of Katherine’s satiny smooth skin bared to his gaze shifted, to an image of her abed, staring up with sightless eyes, the bed soaked in a pool of blood as she gave her life for one of those children. Nausea rolled in his gut. He crushed the page in his hands.

“You needn’t wrinkle it,” Katherine groused, pulling it out of his white-knuckled grip, seeming unaware of the hell that ravaged Jasper’s mind. “I’m certain there are other reasons.”

“And what of you, my lady? I don’t imagine the contract be mutually beneficial for you. What desperation would drive a lady to ask a gentleman who is so, how did you phrase it? Condescending and mocking? To be her husband?”

Humiliated pain flashed in Katherine’s eyes, and Jasper, who’d thought himself deadened on the inside, was knifed with guilt.

She stuffed the list angrily into her reticule. Her jerky movements sent Wordsworth’s work tumbling to the ground. “It was silly of me to ask you.” She spoke so quickly, her words spilled over one another, and blurred together. “I don’t know what manner of madness would ever compel me to do something as foolhardy as to ask you for—”

Jasper kissed her.

He dimly registered the reticule slipping from between her fingers, and landing in the snow with a faint thump. He grasped her hips, and pulled her close, so that his shaft nestled the soft flesh of her belly. His mouth slanted over hers angrily until her lips parted, and he slid his tongue inside to taste her; she tasted of cinnamon and mint leaves, and he wanted to lose himself forever in her.

Katherine reached up and wrapped her arms about his neck; her full breasts crushed against the expanse of his chest. She moaned, and he swallowed that sound. Jasper cupped her buttocks in his hands, and anchored her to him.

The distant echo of screeching kestrel split the silence; more powerful than the blare of a pistol. Jasper wrenched his mouth away. His breathing came in fast, deep pants, and it was all he could do to keep from pulling her into his arms again.

Her thick lashes fluttered open. “Well,” she said, breathlessly. “I believe we might add that to my list, then.”

Reality intruded, swiftly.

Ah yes, the list.

Katherine must have seen something in his expression for she cleared her throat. “I should be going then.” She bent down and retrieved the leather volume and her reticule.

He should let her go. It would be wise to let her dip her curtsy, turn on her heel, leave, and forget they’d ever met at the Frost Fair. At the possibility of never again seeing her again, something wrenched inside him. She took a step to leave. “You did not ever explain what would be the benefit in marrying me, Katherine.”

The tip of her boot hovered above the ground. She set it down, and eyed him warily, as though he’d set out some kind of trap that she were taking great pains to avoid.

“Well, I hate ringlets.”

Jasper furrowed his brow. “I beg your pardon.”

“And gowns made of too much ivory and lace.” She waved her hand. “Mother insists I wear them because it is the ladylike thing to do. It would be such good fun to wear vibrant shades. I should like to wear a silken gown of the deepest sapphire hue. I imagine as your wife, I’d have a good deal of freedom in selecting my wardrobe.”

“Undoubtedly,” he said in serious tones. If Katherine were his wife, he would hire the finest modiste and let her select whatever fancy laces and satins she desired.

Her brows knitted into a single line. “Are you making light of me again?”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he said, dryly. “You’d wed me then to wear fine fabrics?”

She shook her head, dislodging one of those brown ringlets. “You misunderstand me, Your Grace. I don’t give a fig about the type or quality of the fabrics. I merely want to make a selection of my own. It is rather tedious going through life having every decision made for you. It seems like such a very small thing, selecting ones fabric, and yet it is a luxury I’m not afforded. Instead, I must do as my mother sees fit, whether how happy or unhappy those decisions make me.”

Jasper didn’t know if Katherine was aware of it, but somewhere along the way, she’d ceased to speak of fabrics and instead spoke of Bertrand Ekstrom.

It was also the moment he knew he would wed her.

“What else, Katherine?” he said, softly.

“I don’t believe you’d squander your wealth.” She glanced down at the snow. “I believe you to be a gentleman who’d not leave your family destitute, at the mercy of distant relatives.”

“And is that what happened to you, Katherine? Your father left your family destitute?”

She snapped her mouth closed, and her lips flattened into a single, mutinous line.

A vise-like pressure tightened around the heart he’d thought deadened. Except, if it was dead, he should not feel this dull pain at the thought of a young Katherine destitute, desperate, at the mercy of others. If her father were not dead, he’d gladly grind the bastard’s face beneath the weight of his fist.

Poor, Katherine.

Katherine glared up at him, her eyes snapping fire. “I do not want your pity.”

She possessed more strength and courage than most gentlemen he’d known in his life. “I wouldn’t dare pity you,” he murmured. Jasper didn’t believe he could identify a single lady who’d be so bold as to propose marriage, all to save herself from her scheming mother’s machinations.

Katherine’s eyes ran a path over his face, as if trying to ascertain the sincerity of his words, and he hated that his vibrant, spirited Katherine should have such a guarded look to her. She nodded slowly. “Well, then. Thank you again for the volume.”

She made to step around him, but he placed himself in front of her.

Her breath stirred little puffs of white winter air about her. She shifted the burdens of the book and reticule she carried. “What is it, then?” Heavy annoyance underlined her words.

There was something so very endearing about her unguarded reaction to him.

The volume in her hand fell again into the snow. Poor Wordsworth would be in quite the state if he could see the condition of his poor leather volume.

Jasper felt himself grinning in response.

“Yes,” he said.

An unladylike curse escaped her as she bent down to retrieve her volume. “Yes, what, Your Grace?”

“Yes, Jasper,” he corrected. “And yes, I’ll marry you.”

~13~

After he’d made certain that Katherine had made her way safely home, the implications of their meeting hit Jasper with all the force of a heap of stone being placed upon his chest. With his mind spinning and gut clenching, Jasper, for the first time in many years, sought out someone else’s counsel.

He clasped his hands behind his back and paced the Aubusson carpet in the Marquess of Guilford’s office.

Now, it was one thing seeking out counsel, it was an altogether different thing in broaching such a delicate matter for discussion.

Guilford rested, hip propped at the edge of his wide mahogany desk. “I must say, this visit is rather something of a surprise.”

Jasper glared over at him, and continued pacing.

What manner of madness had possessed him to accept Katherine’s offer of marriage? He’d been so enchanted, so utterly beguiled by the sight of her with that silly bonnet and preposterous list, his acceptance had just tumbled from his lips.

He’d not considered the ramifications of marriage to…not just to Katherine, but to any woman.

He’d not risk an emotional connection, and he most certainly would not risk begetting another heir upon any wife. Nay, not just any wife.

He stopped abruptly in the middle of Guilford’s floor.

Lady Katherine Adamson.

Jasper wiped the back of his hand across his eyes.

Christ
.

“I venture something has happened to bring you out of your lair?”

Oh, something had certainly happened all right.

“I agreed to marry Lady Katherine Adamson.”

His friend cocked his head. “What was that?”

Jasper resumed pacing. “Marriage. To Katherine…Lady Katherine,” he amended. He slashed the air with his hand. “I know what you are thinking.”

Guilford snorted. “Oh, I’d wager you most certainly do not.”

Jasper gritted his teeth at the obvious humor in his friend’s tone. He was glad one of them found the situation bloody amusing. The reality of it was, that it was a blasted nightmare. He most certainly could not wed Katherine.

There was the matter of children.

And her damned smile. And her tight brown ringlets.

And…

Lydia.

He froze again, struck by the realization that he’d not thought of Lydia. What was happening to him?

“So you offered for the lady.”

Jasper glanced up. “Not quite,” he muttered under his breath.

Guilford scratched his brow. “What was that? I believe you said—”

“That I accepted the lady’s offer.”

A bark of laughter filled the room. Guilford shoved himself off his desk and strode over to the collection of crystal decanters on the table at the center of the room. “Am I to believe the lady offered for you? Lady Katherine offered for
you
?”

Jasper bristled at the insult. What was so bloody hilarious about Lady Katherine’s interest in him?

Guilford must have followed the direction of his thoughts. “I must say I believe this is the first I know of a lady offering for a gentleman.” He touched the decanter to an empty glass and splashed several fingerfuls into it. He held it out to Jasper.

Jasper waved it off. “I can’t wed her.”

The glass froze mid-way to Guilford’s mouth. He lowered it to his side. “Never tell me you’d renege on your offer…”

“It was her offer,” Jasper bit out. And then, “No, I wouldn’t,” he sighed. He might be a coldhearted bastard, dead on the inside, but he was still a gentleman. To not wed the lady now would be the height of dishonorable.

Guilford held his glass up in salute. “Well, then, congratulations are in order.”

Jasper growled and resumed pacing. “I cannot wed her,” he said more to himself.

“I believe you’ve already pointed out that you are a bit late in that regard,” Guilford drawled.

Jasper strode over to the crystal decanters and reached for the nearest bottle. He poured a glass full to the rim.

“And spirits, too? Well, this is quite the day, indeed. What should I expect next? Horses to fly over the Serpentine?”

Jasper downed the contents in a single swallow. He grimaced at the fiery path it blazed down his throat. Whiskey. He’d picked bloody whiskey.

It seemed fitting, considering the day he was having.

Nor would it do to point out in the days since he’d met Katherine he’d consumed far more spirits than he had in the course of the four years. Guilford was already enjoying this a good deal too much.

“She had a list,” Jasper said at last.

From over the rim of his glass, Guilford’s grin widened. “A list?”

Jasper reached for another decanter, this time selecting a bottle of brandy. He sloshed a healthy amount of spirits into his glass and took a long swallow. “A list,” he growled, waving his glass about. “You know, a list? Something one articulates…”

Guilford laughed. “I know what a list is. Don’t be a bloody arse. What manner of list?”

All the Reasons to Wed Katherine

The most recent events were disastrous in every way; Katherine’s offer, and his acceptance would only upset the carefully protected world Jasper had built for himself.

And yet…

He smiled in remembrance.

Guilford choked on a mouthful of brandy. “I say, are you smiling now?” He glanced over at the wide floor-length windows, and squinted. “Surely there are horses flying. There must be.”

Jasper set his glass down hard enough to send droplets of moisture spraying over the rim of the glass and onto the rose-inlaid table. He’d had enough of Guilford having fun at his expense. He scowled until the grin fell from his friend’s face.

“It was a bloody list of reasons to marry the lady.”

Guilford’s lips flattened into a tight line. The faint tremble however, indicated the concerted effort he made to tamp down his amusement. “That must have been quite an impressive list, then.”

I can provide as many children as desired…

Jasper’s eyes slid closed as he thought of the generous curve of her breast weighted in his hand; the peak of that mound of flesh…and not for the first time, he wondered as to the shade of that precious peak. He’d wager it was the faintest pink, like—

“By all the saints in heaven, you’re smitten with the lady.”

Jasper jerked to the moment. He felt a dull flush of heat creeping up his neck, and he yanked at his hastily tied cravat. By God, he was the Duke of Bainbridge. He did not turn red with embarrassment, and certainly not over a young lady in her first, going on second, Season.

“I am not smitten. I’m…” he searched for words. “Merely driven out of a sense of pity for her circumstances.” Those words rang like a lie in his mind and in his heart.