For Love of the Duke(34)

He clenched his eyes tighter, as bile burned its way up his throat and he forced himself to swallow, lest he cast the contents of his stomach in the midst of the breakfast table. He counted to ten, and then opened his eyes. No, he’d not subject another woman to that, not even to preserve the title.

The legs of Guilford’s chair rocked forward, and scraped along the wood floor. He propped his elbows upon the table and leaned over. “Surely you know you must honor your ducal responsibilities.”

Jasper’s jaw tightened. His ducal responsibilities could go hang. All they’d gotten him was a dead wife, and a dead babe.

“Is that why you’ve come by this morn, Guilford? To inquire as to my interest in Lady Katherine?”

“Well…”

“I helped pull the young lady from the river. Beyond that, I have little interest in Lady Katherine Adamson. My wife is dead. Dead.” Her body was nothing more than cold bones that served as fodder for the worms in his family’s cemetery.

“But Lady Katherine is very much alive,” Guilford said quietly. He shoved his chair back, and waved off a servant who rushed forward to help. “I do not care if you court Lady Katherine or a courtesan or some other nameless creature. You need to accept that you lived, Jasper,” his friend said, using his Christian name. “And no matter what self-imposed misery you create for yourself, it will never bring Lydia back.”

Jasper stared down, unblinking at his plate in front of him, as he confronted the truth of Guilford’s words. Nothing would ever bring Lydia back, and until he’d met Katherine, he’d thought his soul dead, as well.

He didn’t think himself capable of lust or passion or desire again. Then he’d taken Katherine in his arms, and been awakened to the reality that he was still very much a living, breathing man. He waited for the sting of guilt to slap him.

Only, it didn’t come.

Guilford stood, and adjusted the lapels of his blue jacket. “Do you know what I think more than an odd coincidence?”

Jasper just stared at him.

“You haven’t left that bloody castle in nearly four years. Aside from my fortunate self, you haven’t spoken a word to nearly anyone. What is the likelihood you’d attend a public event such as the Frost Fair—?”

“You made me—”

“You are the Duke of Bainbridge. No one makes you do anything. You were supposed to meet Lady Katherine. I’m certain of it. If you’ll excuse me, I’ve an appointment with Gentleman Jackson.” With a short bow, Guilford exited the breakfast room.

Once alone, Jasper withdrew the two notes sent round by Katherine. The gentle scent of lavender that clung to her, wafted from the thick sheets of velum; heady like a potent aphrodisiac.

The lady posed a danger to the thick walls he’d constructed around his heart. He’d be wise to burn her letters, ignore her request, and take himself back to Castle Blackwood, forgetting there had ever been a spirited, winsome lady named Katherine.

Since he’d met Lady Katherine Adamson, however, Jasper had been anything but wise.





~12~



Nausea churned in Katherine’s belly, as she stared out over the frozen expanse of the Serpentine River.

Jasper had agreed to meet her.

He’d promised to meet her at precisely five minutes past six in the morning, when the park was silent, and the night sky still clung to the horizon. Oh, his words had been anything but poetic.

My Lady,

You can expect my presence at the place we’d last met at precisely five past six. I value punctuality. The volume will be yours.

Bainbridge

Bainbridge. Not Jasper. Not the man who’d taken her in his arms, whose touch had melted her like the hot sun upon a blanket of snow. She didn’t know what she’d expected of his missive. Mayhap, something…something…

Less precise.

She didn’t know why she expected him to be different than the calculated, unbending man he’d shown himself to be.

Katherine touched the tip of her glove-encased finger to her lips.

It had been, The Kiss, as she’d come to think of it, that accounted for this madcap scheme she was about to propose to him. That is, if he still intended to honor the words in his note.

“My lady.”

Katherine gasped, and spun on her heel. Snow crunched under the heels of her boots.

Her gaze met Jasper’s, and she swallowed hard. “You.”

“Yes, me,” he murmured, his emotionless tone gave little indication as to the nature of his thoughts.

“You came.” Her cheeks blazed. “That is…” Her eyes fell to the book in his hands. “Oh, you have the book.”

He handed it over, and Katherine accepted the volume. She studied the leather tome etched in gold lettering.