Jasper ignored him, unable to form a coherent thought, his mind raced.
Since Lydia’s death, he’d gone to great lengths to shut himself off from the world. He had not wanted the emotional entanglements, the pitying stares, nor his name so much as breathed upon the lips of strangers who found a macabre fascination with his wife’s death.#p#分页标题#e#
Yet, in the course of a week, Lady Katherine Adamson had slipped past his defenses so that he wondered after her well-being. It could not be more than that. He’d not allow for it. She meant nothing to him.
Nothing…
He’d resolved to never care again.
“There could be far worse things than finding yourself wed to Lady Katherine Adamson,” Guilford interjected quietly.
Jasper started. His eyes narrowed. “Marriage?” he drawled. Perhaps it was Guilford who should earn the title of Mad Marquess. “I have no intentions of wedding again.” He could not subject another woman to the hell that had claimed Lydia’s life. His eyes closed and nausea churned in his stomach as he remembered the blood. There had been so much of it; a bright crimson puddle upon the stark white sheets. Only this time, in his remembrance, Lydia’s face shifted in and out of focus, alternating with a more recent visage; a minx with brown hair and brown eyes.
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.#p#分页标题#e#
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.