“Ah,” he said, looking up at her with an arched brow. “Do you propose it is the gardener, then, who is the troublemaker?”
She flushed at the gentle teasing, but her eyes brightened as an idea struck her. “No. We are both trying to tie the roses to the stakes from opposite sides. If we approach it differently… perhaps from the center, supporting the stem first, then the branches, we might succeed.”
Jasper’s lips curved in a slow, impressed smile. “A clever notion. You would have me work from the center, you say?”
“Yes,” she said firmly, surprised at how confident she felt in giving instruction. “It is more secure. We can each handle half the branches, then meet in the middle.”
He straightened, nodding. “Very well, Lady Matilda. I shall follow your lead, though I reserve the right to claim credit for my skill in execution.”
“Credit is unnecessary,” she said, trying to sound prim, though she could not hide the small thrill of satisfaction in being heard.
When the last branch was secured and the rose finally stood upright, both of them paused, eyes meeting across the bed.
“Well,” Jasper said, an astonished grin tugging at his lips, “I do believe we have succeeded. By some miracle, Lady Matilda, we have solved a problem together without destroying the world or each other.”
Matilda straightened, brushing the dirt from her gloves, still basking in the quiet satisfaction of their joint success. For abrief, shining moment, she allowed herself to think that perhaps Jasper Everleigh could be… tolerable.
Then he leaned slightly closer, tilting his head in that infuriatingly charming way, and let his blue eyes glint with mischief. “You know, Lady Matilda,” he murmured teasingly, “I am beginning to suspect that roses are the perfect excuse for us to work together. Such a rare opportunity for scandal… er, I mean, teamwork.”
She froze, feeling cheeks warming instantly, and could not hide her glare. “Scandal?” she said sharply. “I should think your imagination is far too… active.”
He smirked, the faintest dimple appearing. “Perhaps,” he said smoothly, “but I do enjoy testing it. And I must confess, your expression when I speak so is… most delightful.”
Matilda’s hands clenched into her gloves. “Your Grace, if you believe I will allow you to flirt under the guise of admiration for my horticultural skill, you are entirely mistaken.”
“Oh, but I assure you,” he said, stepping just a little closer, “I am not mistaken at all. I simply observe facts. That you are clever, resourceful… and far more infuriating than any rose I have yet encountered.”
Her stomach twisted with irritation, and perhaps something else she dared not name. She turned away sharply, pretending to fuss with the last tie, but she felt his gaze on her, warm, teasing, and impossibly focused.
“Honestly, Your Grace,” she said through gritted teeth, “I do not understand why you find such joy in being insufferable.”
“Why?” he echoed, mock innocence in his tone. “Because it works so very well, my dear Lady Matilda. It keeps you on your toes, and I cannot imagine a more entertaining companion for an otherwise dull morning.”
Matilda ground her teeth, a small shiver of frustration and inexplicable thrill running through her. “I shall remember this day, Your Grace, and swear vengeance upon all roses as compensation for your audacity.”
Jasper’s laugh was low and rich, filling the quiet garden. “I shall accept your vengeance gladly, provided it comes with a smile, though I suspect that may be asking too much.”
She turned back to him, unable to prevent her eyes from flashing with both outrage and a reluctant admiration. “Do not mistake my composure for weakness, Duke,” she said primly, though the faint twitch at her lips betrayed her.
He inclined his head, with that infuriating dimple still present. “Of course not, Lady Matilda. I merely admire your… spirited nature.”
And with that, she knew she would have to be on guard for the rest of the morning, for Jasper had resumed his old, infuriating ways.
Chapter Nine
Jasper leaned back in the high-backed chair of Robert Firming’s study, with the rich scent of leather and polished wood surrounding him. Across the table, Robert was talking about the upcoming arrangements for the baptism, while Mason leaned casually against the mantelpiece.
“And then,” Robert said, lowering his voice, “we must ensure that the pews are arranged strictly according to precedence. Nothing worse than an insult unnoticed until the ceremony begins.”
Jasper tapped a finger against the armrest. “Ah, the eternal tyranny of order and hierarchy,” he remarked lightly. “Nothing like a well-placed insult to ruin one’s morning.”
Mason chuckled from where he leaned casually against the mantelpiece. “Or the perfect opportunity to exercise diplomacy. I daresay some gentlemen are made for it, others… less so.”
Robert frowned slightly. “I fail to see the humor in it, Jasper. This is a matter of decorum and propriety, not amusement.”
“Of course, of course,” Jasper replied, waving a hand. “I only meant that there is a certain… satisfaction in knowing that the world may be slightly unsettled by minor inconveniences. One need not always take it seriously.”
Mason smirked, shaking his head. “Leave it to Jasper Everleigh to find sport in proper precedence.”
