For Love of the Duke(86)

“No, I’m not all right,” the words burst from his chest. Servants could be nearby, her family still took their dessert at the end of the corridor in the dining room. Those realities should have been enough.

Instead, he began to pace there along the thin strip of red carpet. He dragged his hand through his hair. “You instructed Cook to prepare roast quail.”

She blinked. “I believed you liked roast quail.”

Jasper paused. “But you do not.” He didn’t know that much about her. But she’d cared enough to ask him about his favorite meals, and then had Cook prepare it for the eve of Christmas dinner, in spite of the fact she abhorred it.

Katherine touched a tentative hand to his shoulder, and jerked him back into his frenetic pacing. “What is this about, Jasper?” she prodded, with such gentleness his gut clenched.

“I sang that bloody ditty,” he spat.

A gentle understanding lit her eye. He did not deserve her pardon. “It is f…”

He glared her into silence. “Do not say it is fine,” he bit out. “It is not fine. Your father gambled your family’s wealth and security away and I sang a bloody ditty about it.”

Katherine held a palm up in attempt to stay his movements.

He ignored her.

“Jasper, it was merely a song.” The corners of Katherine’s lips tugged ever so faintly; he suspected she might smile. “A rather poor choice of song for a child, perhaps.”

Any other woman would be spitting fury with their vitriolic words and burning eyes. She should be livid, and she would be deserving of any indignation.

Except Katherine’s lips at last gave in to a full smile, revealing a faint dimple in her right cheek. Jasper jerked to a sudden stop. And that was another blasted thing. He’d not even noted the dimple before this moment. How could he have failed to note the precious little indentation in her right cheek?

Jasper resumed pacing. “I didn’t even consider the child,” he groused under his breath.

Katherine blinked. “I beg your pardon.”

His hand slashed the air. “The child. Lizzie. I didn’t know another blasted thing to sing to the child. It hadn’t even occurred to me, until just this moment, the absolute unsuitability of such a piece.”

If his son hadn’t died, Jasper would be well-versed in the care of young children. He would certainly know the interests of a child two or three years of age, and which songs to soothe their troubled thoughts, and coax a smile. “I sang a bloody tavern ditty to a child,” he repeated with a shake of his head.

Katherine stepped in front of his path, so that Jasper was forced to either bowl her down, walk around her, or stop.

He stopped.

Katherine placed her palms upon his chest. His heart stirred. “She loved your song.”

“It was inappropriate.”

She nodded, and touched the tip of a well-manicured nail to his lips, silencing him. “She enjoyed it, Jasper. You made her smile. Does it matter how or why? It just matters that you did.” She opened her palm and cupped his cheek. He caught her wrist and dragged it to his mouth, placing his lips where her pulse fluttered wildly.

“Jasper?”

“Yes, Katherine?” he whispered against her wrist.

She giggled. “That tickles.”

He responded with another kiss to the sensitive intersecting of her palm. She swatted at him. “S-stop,” she commanded. “Jasper?”

He sighed, and pulled away. “Yes, Katherine.”

“Can we go abovestairs?”

Jasper narrowed his eyes. “Abovestairs?”

Katherine wet her lips. “Er, yes.” She scuffed the tip of her ivory slipper along the floor. Did his wife have slippers of any other color? He imagined her in a scandalous red slipper. Imagined himself tugging it loose, tossing it aside, and then lowering her stockings inch by agonizing… “I was hoping, that is to say, imagining,” She furrowed her brow. “Well, imagining might not be the right word.”

“Katherine?”

“Yes?”

“Out with it.”

Her eyes widened. “Oh, er, yes, of course. I want to spend the night with you.” Her cheeks flamed a red to match the carpet, only heightened by the pale white of her satin evening gown with those ridiculous lace ruffles along her décolletage.

Did she just say…?

“I know it is not at all the thing. Wives and husbands sharing the same chambers. Mother and Father never shared a chamber.” She grimaced. “Not that I care to think of Mother and Father sharing a chamber. It is just…” Her words ended on a high-pitched squeak as he swept her into his arms.

“What are you…?”