Jasper inclined his head with mock gravitas. “I assure you, Mason, I am quite serious about the mischief, but the arrangements themselves? Entirely… instructive.”
Robert sighed, rubbing his temples. “Men and their games,” he muttered.
“Exactly,” Jasper said, leaning back with a faint grin. “Games, strategy, and occasionally a duel of wits, all far preferable to polite smiles and delicate sensibilities.”
Mason shifted his weight against the mantel, and now, there was a faintly mischievous glint in his eye. “Speaking of mischief, Jasper… pray tell, what is this peculiar animosity you seem to harbor for Lady Matilda?”
Jasper nearly choked on his sip of brandy. “Animosity? I assure you, Mason, that is a misrepresentation. I feel nothing of the sort.”
“Oh? Nothing at all?” Mason asked, leaning closer, voice low and teasing. “And yet, I have observed the way your eyes follow her, the way you seem… unsettled whenever she speaks. I call it animosity.”
Jasper set his glass down, exhaling slowly. “I am unsettled by many things, by disorder, incompetence, poorly tied roses… I do not think one lady deserves such a… label.”
Mason smirked knowingly. “Ah, but it is not merely any lady, is it? It is Matilda Sterlington, the quiet, proper, impossibly stubborn creature who manages to irritate you without effort. Surely even you cannot deny it.”
Robert’s brow arched. “Irritating? Infuriating? Surely you do not mean Matilda?”
Jasper’s lips curved into a faint, wry smile. “Precisely. I mean Matilda, and no other.”
Robert shook his head, leaning back in his chair. “I cannot imagine it. She is lively, charming, full of good humor and wit. She is the sort of lady any man would enjoy a conversation with, pleasant, lighthearted, and talkative. I see nothing infuriating in her.”
Jasper’s jaw tightened. “Nothing infuriating in her?” he repeated, incredulous. “That is… impossible. That cannot be Matilda Sterlington. You must mean some other lady entirely.”
Robert laughed. “No, I assure you, I mean her! She is engaging, amiable, and endlessly charming. I have watched her at gatherings. She speaks, she laughs, she draws others in with ease. You describe a different creature entirely.”
Jasper shook his head, disbelief giving way to a wry smirk. “A different creature? Perhaps. But I assure you, Robert, the lady I contend with is formidable. She is sharp-eyed, judgmental, and capable of cutting a man to ribbons with a single glance. I have never met one like her. I cannot reconcile your description with the reality I endure.”
Robert raised an eyebrow. “Endure? Surely she does not treat you so harshly?”
“She does,” Jasper said, voice low, almost amazed at his own confession. “Every word, every gesture, every glance is measured to unsettle. To test. To provoke. And I… cannot ignore it. I am constantly on guard.”
Robert shook his head, laughing again. “Then we truly speak of two different ladies. One delights and charms; the other terrorizes a duke. It seems, Jasper, you are uniquely unfortunate or uniquely fortunate, depending on how you look at it.”
Jasper leaned back, smirking despite himself. “Unfortunate, perhaps.”
Mason chuckled. “And I suppose you survived the rose chore without decimating the beds?”
Jasper let out a low laugh, shaking his head. “Barely. I pray that Robert’s wife does not conjure up any more joint tasks for me and Lady Matilda. I have had enough of teamwork for one lifetime.”
Robert raised an amused brow. “Do not count on it, Jasper. Evelyn is determined. By the date of the baptism, she wants every last person, every godparent, every family member, every guest to be amicable. Perfect harmony, she insists.”
Jasper’s eyes darkened with a mix of exasperation and reluctant respect. “Perfect harmony, is it? Then I suppose I must steel myself for whatever schemes she devises. Heaven forbid another rosebed challenge.”
Mason grinned. “Then we shall see how long your resolve lasts, cousin. Evelyn will have you dancing in step with Matilda before the two weeks are out, I suspect.”
Jasper gave a wry, half-amused glance toward the window, imagining Matilda on the grounds at Kenton.
“We shall see,” he murmured, though inwardly he could not deny that the thought both irritated and intrigued him far more than he liked to admit.
“The roses have never looked so splendid,” Evelyn said, pausing to inhale the scent of a particularly fragrant bloom. She liftedher skirts slightly to step closer to the garden bed, careful not to crush any of the petals. “Kenton is at its very best this time of year. I do hope Robert will approve of the arrangements.”
Matilda glanced over the meticulously tended beds, noting the neat rows and the gentle arch of trellises adorned with climbing roses. The sun caught on the petals, casting a rosy glow across the grounds.
“It is beautiful,” she said softly. “Though, I confess, the brightness makes one far too visible for comfort.”
Evelyn turned to her sister, suddenly changing the topic. “I am grateful you agreed to be godmother to my son, Matilda. Even with Jasper Everleigh as the godfather.”
Matilda’s lips twitched, the ghost of a smile appearing. “Annoying, as always,” she admitted, letting a faint sigh escape. “But I would never refuse such an honor. Not for anything, not even to avoid him.”
