The morning air was cool and sharp, carrying the scent of hay and horses. Jasper stood beside Robert in the stables, tightening the girth of his stallion’s saddle, with the quiet punctuated only by the snorts and shifting hooves of the animals.
From the open doors, he could just make out the garden beyond. The ladies had gathered there for tea beneath the wide awning, their laughter rising now and again above the rustle of leaves. Cordelia’s voice rang brightest, Hazel’s steady tones following, and Evelyn’s gentler warmth threading through. Even Greyson sat among them, still as stone, while Mason lounged nearby, already gesturing animatedly as he told some tale.
Jasper lingered a moment too long in his glance.
Robert caught it. Of course he did. “Ah,” he said, a grin tugging at his lips, “perhaps you would rather join them for tea than ride with me?”
Jasper scoffed, rolling his shoulders as he adjusted the stirrup. “Tea? With Greyson sitting there like a frost-bitten sentinel? No, thank you.”
Robert chuckled, leaning against the stall door. “You forget, I know you too well. That was no idle glance. If I did not know better, I would think you have your eye on someone.”
Jasper snorted, patting the horse’s neck with more force than necessary. “I have my eye on getting this ride over with before the day grows warm. Nothing more.”
Robert’s grin widened, infuriatingly knowing. “If you say so, old boy. But it does strike me that your horse is ready, and yet you stand here wasting time staring at a tea party.”
Jasper shot him a look, half a glare, half a reluctant smile. “And it strikes me, Robert, that fatherhood has made you insufferable.”
Robert laughed outright at that, clapping Jasper on the shoulder. “Come, then. If you are so desperate to avoid temptation, best we ride fast enough to leave it far behind.”
Jasper swung into the saddle, but as they set off, he could not resist one last glance toward the garden. Greyson sat rigid, Cordelia leaned too close with some absurd anecdote, Hazel shook her head with mock severity, Evelyn beamed and in the midst of it, Matilda sat quietly.
Jasper cursed under his breath and urged his horse forward, leaving the sight behind.
Robert guided his horse down the narrow lane. “Tell me, Jasper,” he said, half-casual, half-prying, “have you changed your mind about marriage?”
Jasper barked out a laugh. “Marriage? It would be a cold day in hell when that happens.”
Robert only chuckled. “You sound so certain. But it wouldn’t be so bad, you know. A wife, a household, children… there’s peace in it. Stability.”
“Chains,” Jasper muttered, spurring his horse forward a step. “Responsibility that suffocates, expectations that grind a man down. Spare me.”
Robert grinned knowingly. “Funny. Greyson doesn’t see it that way. He’s spoken of taking a more active role this Season, even showing an interest in the ladies who will be here for the baptism celebrations.”
Jasper’s jaw tightened. He forced a scoff. “So? The man has gone mad, clearly. Let him chase his folly. I still have my reason.”
Robert’s laughter carried on the breeze. “Reason? Is that what you call it? I call it stubbornness.”
Jasper said nothing, but the words stuck like burrs. He could not banish the thought that every man now had the same opportunity, every man would see Matilda seated at her sister’s table, every man would weigh her as a prospect.
The image lodged deep, unwelcome and immovable. Matilda, with her pale grey eyes and the blush that had undone him in the kitchen, considered by others,desiredby others.
He clenched the reins tighter, his stallion tossing its head at the sudden pressure.
Robert glanced sidelong at him, grinning still. “You look as though the idea unsettles you.”
Jasper forced a smirk that felt thin. “You imagine too much, Robert. I am perfectly at ease.”
But he wasn’t. Not even close.
The morning sunlight dappled through the leaves, scattering over the table set in the garden. Silver glinted, porcelain cups steamed with fragrant tea, and laughter wove its way through the air. Cordelia was telling some dramatic story with such flourish that Hazel was shaking her head in mock despair. Evelyn leaned against Mason’s arm, her eyes bright with affection, while the Duke of Callbury sat across from them, watchful and steady.
It should have been a perfectly pleasant scene. And it was. Yet Matilda found herself glancing toward the stables in the distance… for the third time.
There was no sign of him.
Of course not.She drew her eyes back to her cup. Jasper Everleigh despised this sort of thing. Tea in the garden, chatter about gowns and gossip… he would have no patience for it. And why should he join them?
Her breath caught at the thought that had slipped in, unbidden:Because of last night.
