Perfect.
As they set off, Jasper fell into step beside her. She did not so much walk as march, with her back stiff and her chin high.
“You needn’t look as though you are on your way to execution,” he murmured low enough for only her to hear.
“I am not,” she returned without glancing at him. “Though if I were, I should at least know what crime I had committed. Here, I suffer punishment for no reason at all.”
“Punishment?” he repeated, widening his eyes in mock astonishment. “To walk with me? Lady Matilda, you wound me. And I have not even had the chance yet to tell you how very charming you look when you scowl.”
She gasped, her eyes flashing to him at once, and it was exactly the reaction he lived for. He had promised Cordelia and Evelyn, with his hand to heart, that he would be gentle with this quiet, proper lady. Butdamn it all, the temptation was irresistible.
He leaned the slightest bit closer. “Truly, I believe it suits you better than a smile. Though I confess I should like to test the matter further.”
Her blush was instant, furious, and far too becoming. She tore her gaze away, focusing on the gravel path as though it contained the secrets of the universe.
Delicious.
He could not resist pushing further. “Do not look so aghast, Lady Matilda. One might think you were jealous, to see me employ my compliments elsewhere. Perhaps upon a certain red-haired widow, for instance?”
She stiffened all over. He nearly laughed aloud, the sound bubbling in his chest.Aha, there it was,he thought to himself. He loved that spark, that outrage, that blush, that way she bristled as though he were the most insufferable man alive. Perhaps he was. But only with her did it feel like play.
And what play it was.
“Your compliments would be wasted on me for you would elicit no reaction,” she assured him in that tone he loved so much.
Hastily, Jasper fell into step beside her again, letting his gaze roam casually over the gardens while he measured her reactions with exquisite precision.
“You do walk like a general inspecting her troops,” he said, voice soft but teasing. “All dignity, all alertness… yet somehow, I suspect the tiniest part of you is aware of my presence.”
Matilda’s lips pressed into a thin line, her grey eyes flashing with both irritation and something he could not quite name. “I assure you, Your Grace, I am entirely unaware of your presence,”she said primly, though her voice had that slight tremor he had noticed in heated debates.
“Entirely?” he echoed, tilting his head, a dimple appearing as he allowed himself the smallest, infuriating smile. “Not the faintest flutter of annoyance or… intrigue?”
Her frown deepened, and she bit her lower lip. “Annoyance, perhaps. Intrigue, absolutely not!”
The very sound of it, the way she said it, so certain, so scandalized, yet utterly unpracticed in deception, made him pause mid-step. A thrill ran up his spine, sharp and entirely unexpected. No lady had ever elicited such a reaction from him, or held his attention so completely without the slightest pretense of coquetry.
“You are outrageously proper,” he murmured, letting the words brush against her awareness. “And yet, I suspect you enjoy being indignant at my expense.”
Matilda stopped mid-step, and Jasper, who had been enjoying their verbal sparring, turned just in time to catch her gaze.
Her eyes were grey, but they were also more than that. They were pale, stormy, and precise, like winter mist over a frozen lake, beautiful but dangerous, concealing depths one did not dare underestimate. He had never seen eyes that could both warn and allure in the same instant, and they held him captive without effort.
“Your Grace,” she said, her voice steady yet edged with an uncharacteristic intensity, “may I ask you something?”
Jasper blinked, caught entirely off guard. He had been prepared for teasing, for outrage, for even scolding, but this seriousness was another weapon entirely.
She held his gaze without blinking. “And will you… promise me a serious answer?”
The words struck him like a sharp blow, a challenge more real than any jab in the boxing ring. He found himself nodding, before reason or pride could intervene.
“I will,” he said, mirroring her measured and firm tone, almost more so than he had ever spoken in his life.
Her lips pressed into a thin line, her eyes still locked on his, as though reading his very thoughts. Jasper’s heart, usually so steady in mischief and charm, thumped with a wild insistence he could not fully understand. And he knew, with a mixture of awe and mild panic, that he had agreed entirely too quickly, and that whatever she intended to ask might very well undo him completely.
Her sharp and unwavering eyes held him in place. “Why are you constantly so… flirty with every lady you meet? Does it bring you pleasure? Is that how you measure your manhood?”
Jasper’s chest tightened at the words. The questions could have offended a lesser man. Most would bristle, grow defensive, or seek to insult in return. Yet something in the way she said it, which was so pointed and so serious, but not cruel, made him understand instantly that she did not wish to wound him. She meant to unsettle him, to provoke the discomfort he had so effortlessly cultivated in her.
