Matilda gasped again, staring down at the child as though betrayed. “She cannot mean it.”
Jasper exhaled, half a laugh, half a groan. “I fear she does. And so we are conscripted, Lady Matilda. Two unwilling sentries.”
Her eyes flashed to his, suspicious and defensive as ever, but there was color in her cheeks, and the sight of her with the infant still made something twist in his chest.
He shifted uneasily, aware of the absurdity of it all. Him, Jasper Everleigh, Duke of Harrow, trapped in a parlor with the one woman who could rattle him, and a child he had never in his life known how to hold.
“I suppose,” he said at last, tone dry, “that if the child begins to cry, we may simply take turns glaring it into silence. You have the advantage in that skill.”
The baby stirred in Matilda’s arms, shifting with a soft whimper. She adjusted him instinctively, with a touch that was gentle and sure. Jasper found himself watching every movement.
“You see?” he said, folding his arms across his chest. “You have all in hand. There is no need for me to interfere.”
Her head snapped up. “Interfere? You are his godfather, Your Grace. Surely you might show some responsibility.”
“I accepted the title for Evelyn’s sake,” he drawled. “I never intended to be pressed into active duty.”
The corner of her mouth twitched. “What a pity. I was under the impression godfathers were meant to protect and guide.”
“Guide, perhaps. Protect, certainly. But rock and coddle? I think not.” He made a dismissive gesture. “That is firmly within your domain.”
She let out a sharp little laugh. “Coward.”
He arched a brow. “Coward? I simply prefer not to risk dropping the child. My hands are not—” He stopped himself, curling them slightly at his sides, conscious of the faint scars hidden beneath his gloves. “Not accustomed to such delicate burdens.”
Her gaze flicked to his hands, thoughtful, but she said nothing of it. Instead she extended the baby toward him with shocking boldness.
“Then you had better accustom yourself,” she said crisply. “He will not break.”
Jasper took an involuntary step back. “Good God, woman, have mercy.”
Matilda’s lips curved into a smile, dry and merciless. “You can face down half the gentlemen of London in a wager, but one small child sends you running?”
He shot her a look, which was half affronted and half amused. “You take unholy delight in my torment.”
“Indeed,” she murmured, her lovely eyes gleaming.
And though he meant to resist, her steady gaze and the maddening curve of her smile compelled him forward. He held out his arms stiffly, as she carefully transferred the child into his keeping.
The baby settled against him, warm and impossibly small. Jasper went still, scarcely daring to breathe.
“There,” Matilda said softly, with that flicker of amusement still in her voice. “Not so fearsome, after all.”
He looked down at the infant, then up at her. For once, he had no clever retort. Only the unsettling realization that she had maneuvered him into this moment and that he did not altogether mind.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Matilda folded her hands before her, prepared to enjoy the duke’s discomfort. She had not truly believed he would actually take the child, and yet here he was: stiff as a board, with his broad shoulders held so rigidly it was a wonder the babe did not slip at once.
But then something curious happened. The baby gave a soft sigh, nestling his small head against Jasper’s chest. Jasper froze, his blue eyes widening as though the infant had performed a miracle.
And instead of fussing, the child went still… perfectly calm.
Matilda’s lips parted in surprise. She had expected wailing, perhaps a clumsy rescue. Notthis, not Jasper standing there so awkwardly, but strangely steady, with the baby resting as though he belonged there.
Her heart gave an unexpected leap. She told herself it was only astonishment, but her gaze betrayed her, lingering on the way his large hand supported the child’s back, the way his head bent just slightly, protective without even seeming to know it.
“You see?” she said at last, though her voice had softened against her will. “He likes you.”
