For Love of the Duke(33)

Jasper cursed. “She is not my…what did you learn?” he snapped. He told himself he inquired out of an apathetic interest in the woman he’d rescued. Except, as Guilford picked up his white napkin and dabbed carefully at his lips, he wanted to drag him across the blasted table and shake the words free from his mouth.

“It would seem,” Guilford continued. “Lady Katherine’s mother has spoken to the lady’s guardian about arranging the match with Ekstrom after the Christmastide season.”

Jasper wrinkled his brow and tossed aside his attempt at indifference. “Why would she not allow her to make a match during the Season?” Surely the young lady could do a deal better than Bertrand Ekstrom. He remembered the lush feel of her breast; the peak of that soft flesh puckered through the fabric, begging for his touch. His stomach tightened. She could do a good deal better. The muscles of his stomach convulsed. Why did the idea of her with another ravage his insides?

Guilford’s shoulders lifted in a shrug. “I believe he’s next in line for the earldom, behind the lady’s brother, who’s a mere boy.”

So Katherine’s happiness would be forfeited on a whole series of what-ifs. His fingers curled over the arms of the chair, hard enough to leave indents in the solid wood.

Jasper picked up his fork, and speared a piece of bacon. Ultimately, it didn’t matter to him who the lady wed. “She is not my affair.” She is not my affair. She is not my affair. It was a litany he didn’t believe.#p#分页标题#e#

Guilford snorted. Neither apparently did Guilford. His friend opened his mouth to speak when a knock sounded at the door.

The footman approached with a silver tray bearing a letter atop it. Upon recognizing the familiar, elegant lines of the scrawl, Jasper’s heart thumped an odd rhythm.

He accepted the note, and Guilford forgotten, unfolded it.

Your Grace,

It occurs to me that I failed to obtain your copy of Wordsworth’s latest volume. I would ask if when the winter storm abates, that you meet me in the same spot alongside the Serpentine River.

Ever Yours,

Katherine

Disappointment stabbed at him. Her note was comprised of a mere two sentences. He frowned, and turned it over in his hands, and then studied the front of it yet again. Direct, and yet coolly polite, Katherine’s letter was this time devoid of the characteristic teasing he’d come to expect from the young lady. He didn’t know how to account for this…

Another servant entered, bearing another silver tray.

Jasper frowned, and reached for the missive.

Jasper,

If you would please deign to send round a note, this time regarding my request for a meeting along the Serpentine. I’m afraid I received quite the dressing down from my mother, at a time when I can ill-afford to anger her.

The unwritten mention of Ekstrom. He clenched the parchment so tightly, he wrinkled the page. Jasper forced himself to keep reading.

If you are a man of integrity, then you’ll honor your word and provide me with your copy of Wordsworth’s work.

Jasper’s frown deepened. The insolent bit of baggage. He’d been called mad, a coldhearted bastard, but no one had dared to question his honor.

I do not mean to impugn your honor. Though, I can certainly see how the above mentioned words might seem that way.

His lips twitched.

But it is with some urgency that I request to meet with you. And obtain that volume.

Ever Yours,

Katherine

Something in those final two sentences gave him pause. The last sentence seemed an afterthought hastily scratched upon the page.

It is with some urgency that I request to meet with you.

Those were not the words of a woman merely eager to obtain a book of poetry.

Guilford chuckled. “I would trade my countryseat in Sussex to know the contents of those missives.”

Jasper folded the two notes, and stuffed them inside the front of his jacket. “Go to hell,” he muttered, and picked up his coffee. He took a quick sip. The now cold brew slid down his throat, and he grimaced in distaste.

Guilford sighed, and tipped back on the legs of his chair. “Does your recent correspondence perhaps have to do with your Lady Katherine?”

“She is not my…” Jasper shook his head, and took another sip. He would not continue to be goaded by his friend.

Lady Katherine Adamson was not Guilford’s business.

Jasper started as he realized that she was in fact, however, his business. His rescue, then their subsequent meeting at the bookshop, followed by their discourse on Wordsworth, and their assignation at Hyde Park made her more than a stranger.

His cup of coffee rattled in his hands, and liquid sloshed over the rim. A liveried footman rushed over to clean the liquid from the table.