He paused, before approaching. How utterly predictable that she would seek solitude, as though the world andhewould leave her in peace.
“Lady Matilda,” he called, in a voice that was smooth and lightly teasing, stepping closer. “I trust I am not disturbing your… solitary musings?”
She looked up, eyes flashing, cheeks faintly pink. That sharp, proper glare, the one that always unsettled him, met his, and he felt a thrill at the challenge.
“I was not expecting company,” she said coolly, “nor do I intend to entertain any, particularly from a gentleman who delights in provocation.”
He inclined his head, dimples showing. “Ah, but you look far too serene to remain unchallenged. Surely a little company will not ruin the peace of the pond.”
Matilda bristled, stepping back, though her eyes stayed on him. “I assure you, your presence is quite sufficient to ruin it on its own.”
Jasper chuckled softly. “I will take that as a compliment, then. It seems I have a talent for disrupting serenity.”
He saw the slight catch in her breath and the way she turned her gaze to the pond as if trying to reclaim some semblance of calm. A slow, satisfied grin spread across his face. She was trying to remain composed, and it was utterly futile.
Stepping a pace closer, he lowered his voice with mock solemnity. “Do not misunderstand, Lady Matilda. I have no intention of ruining your walk… unless, of course, you insist upon standing in my way.”
Her silence and her attempt to ignore him only made him more certain of his power in this little game. He could see it in every tight line of her posture, in every flush of her cheeks. Jasper knew, as he often did, that no lady had ever so completely rattled him and yet drawn him in.
Jasper leaned slightly against a tree. “I was actually hoping for a moment of peace myself,” he said lightly, his tone teasing but just enough sincerity hidden beneath.
Matilda’s eyes narrowed, and a faint edge of incredulity colored her voice. “Peace? I thought you lived for chaos, Your Grace.”
He shrugged, tossing a casual glance her way. “It only looks that way. A man must have his reputation, after all.”
She huffed softly, crossing her arms. “And you cultivate it so very well, I might add.”
Before he could respond, a sudden gust of wind tore across the gardens, whipping Matilda’s shawl from her shoulders. It caught in the breeze and fluttered helplessly, landing with a soggy splash in the shallow edge of the pond.
Matilda gasped and stepped forward, with horror written across her face.
“My shawl!” she exclaimed, rushing to the water’s edge, only to recoil at the thought of wetting her delicate skirts.
Jasper’s lips twitched, barely restraining a laugh. “It seems your serenity is more fragile than I imagined,” he said, taking a step closer. “Shall I retrieve it for you, or do you plan to dive in yourself?”
She shot him a sharp, indignant look. “I do not require your assistance, thank you very much. Though I might have to,” she paused, biting her lip, “if it is not rescued promptly.”
He leaned closer, voice lowering in mock severity. “Do you now? That would be most unbecoming, Lady Matilda, to wade into the pond in pursuit of a shawl.”
Her cheeks warmed, and she glared at him in exasperation, even as a hint of amusement tugged at the corners of her mouth. “And what would you have me do, pray tell? Stand here and watch it float away into oblivion?”
Jasper chuckled, shaking his head. “Hardly. But you must admit, it makes for a most dramatic moment. Perhaps even worth the trouble.”
Matilda groaned, bending slightly toward the water, and Jasper could not help the small, reluctant thrill that shot through him. Even the simplest mishaps became fodder for their endless, infuriating banter.
Jasper watched her kneel at the edge of the shallow water, with her fingertips brushing the wet edge of the shawl, and he could not suppress the faint smirk tugging at his lips. She was all sharp lines and careful composure, and yet utterly flustered. It was a sight that never failed to amuse him.
“Need a hand?” he asked lightly, leaning casually against the nearest tree, with his arms crossed. The casual stance was meantto look nonchalant, though he was fully aware of the game he was playing.
“I can manage perfectly well on my own,” she snapped, though he caught the faint tremor in her voice that betrayed her frustration.
He let out a low chuckle. “I am certain you can. But you make it look… rather desperate, you know.”
Her grey eyes flashed at him, as sharp as a blade. “You are not very helpful, Your Grace.”
“Iwantto be helpful,” he said smoothly, stepping a careful pace closer, just enough to keep her on edge. “It is only that you refuse to let me assist.”
“To allow you to help me?” she repeated incredulously, her voice carrying the faintest note of scandalized outrage. “Never! Besides, I will never hear the end of it!”
