“A woman of sense,” she retorted. “Something you plainly have in short supply.”
He laughed then, the sound rich and careless, as though her indignation only entertained him further. “God help the man who dares to dance attendance upon you, Lady Matilda. He would not last a week.”
“And God help the woman who dares to marry you,” she shot back, “for she would not last a day.”
His grin deepened, as though her words were a challenge he relished. “Quite so. I don’t think I could handle a woman of your… delicate sensibilities. But seeing you like this, I feared I had caused you a true flutter of the heart.”
“A flutter?” She let out a sharp laugh. “If my heart ever fluttered in your presence, sir, it would only be from dread.”
He gave a low, mock bow. “Then I must do my utmost to maintain that dreadful impression.”
Cordelia glanced helplessly at Mason, who bit the inside of his cheek to hide his smile.
Matilda stepped past Jasper, her skirts brushing against his leg as she did. She paused, with her pale grey eyes flashing up at him.
“Rest assured, Your Grace, I have no wish to encounter you again. Not here, not anywhere. In fact, my dearest hope is that our paths will part tonight, never to cross again.”
He leaned down slightly, just enough that his blue eyes caught hers, mischief gleaming bright. “Then we are of one mind, Lady Matilda. I can think of nothing more disagreeable than to find myself in your company ever again.”
Their sharp and defiant gazes clashed, before she swept past him into the corridor, as Cordelia hurried after with fluttering concern. Mason gave Jasper a long, knowing look before shutting the door.
The library fell silent once more. But the air still hummed with the echo of their words, bold proclamations that both of them, in secret corners of their hearts, already suspected were doomed.
Chapter Three
Jasper allowed Mason to usher him toward the parlor with the good-natured patience of a man accustomed to being managed.
“Really, cousin, is there some urgent matter that requires such haste? You behave as though the roof is on fire.”
“Not a fire,” Mason said calmly, “but company.”
Jasper arched a brow but followed him in. The door opened, and he stepped across the threshold, only to halt dead in his tracks.
There she was.
Lady Matilda Sterlington, seated beside Cordelia as though she belonged there, her pale eyes widening the instant they met his.
“What,” Jasper demanded, turning sharply on Mason, “is she doing here?”
Matilda rose to her feet at once, her voice cutting and cool. “I might ask the same. If I had known the parlor was to be polluted by your presence, I should never have set foot in it.”
Jasper gave a short, incredulous laugh. “Polluted? A bold word, madam, considering I had no warning thatyoulurked here like some specter waiting to pounce.”
“Specter?” Her cheeks flushed, her back very straight. “I will not remain another moment in a room shared with a scoundrel such as yourself. Cordelia, dearest, forgive me?—”
“Oh no, no,” Jasper interrupted, stepping forward with a flourish. “If anyone is to leave, it will be me. I would not wish to impose upon your… delicate sensibilities. They may not survive another moment of my wicked company.”
“Delicate?” Matilda’s eyes flashed. “If my sensibilities are delicate, then yours must be nonexistent.”
“On the contrary, Lady Matilda, mine are robust enough to endure this very conversation. The same, I fear, cannot be said of yours.”
Cordelia’s eyes darted between them in helpless amusement. Mason leaned against the mantel, wholly entertained.
Matilda lifted her chin. “Very well. I shall go first.” She swept a hand toward the door with regal disdain.
Jasper folded his arms, smirking. “Ah, but if you go first, I will be accused of driving you out. No, no, I insist. I shall remove myself at once.”
“You insist? Then do it,” she retorted.
