Matilda gave a soft huff of laughter. “You have quite the imagination, Your Grace.”
“I assure you, it is the talk of the hour. If you continue in this scandalous friendship, people will start ordering new gowns for the wedding.”
“Then I fear the modistes will be disappointed.”
“Oh?” He tilted his head, teasing but curious. “Is the rumor false? Or merely premature?”
She hesitated a fraction too long for comfort. He caught it instantly, and the light in his eyes dimmed with genuine interest. “You are not toying with the poor man, are you?”
“No,” she said simply. Then, after a pause, she added as if that might clarify everything. “Nor am I in danger of marrying him.”
“Good,” Jasper said, leaning back, relieved though he could not have said why. “He is a decent fellow, but dull as an old sermon. You’d die of politeness within the month.”
She smiled faintly, but her fingers twisted together in her lap. “Death would hardly trouble me. I’ve made other plans.”
Something in her tone made him sit straighter. “Other plans?”
“Yes,” she said quietly. “I am to join a convent.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
Jasper blinked. For a moment, he thought she jested.
“You are what?”
“Joining a nunnery,” she repeated with calm precision, as though discussing the weather. “It seems the most sensible course. Peaceful. Useful. Away from all this.” She even shrugged a few times, as if it were of no conscequence at all.
Jasper stared at her. “You cannot be serious.”
“I am.”
“But… you? Locked away behind stone walls, chanting prayers at dawn? Forgive me, Lady Matilda, but I can hardly picture it.”
“Then you must exercise your imagination, Your Grace. You’ve had enough practice with gossip.”
He ignored the barb. “Why would you do such a thing?”
Her eyes locked with his with utter determination. “Because I am tired of trying to belong somewhere I do not. I have made enough mistakes in company. I prefer solitude now.”
“That is not solitude,” he said sharply. “That is exile.”
“Perhaps I deserve it.”
He swore softly under his breath. “Deserve? For heaven’s sake, Matilda, what sin could possibly justify throwing away your life?”
She gave a quiet, humorless smile. “You speak as though my life were of great consequence.”
“It is,” he said, before he could stop himself. The words came fiercer than he intended them to. “It damn well is.”
The silence between them deepened. The hum of bees and distant laughter only made it more pronounced. Matilda turned her face away, but he saw her throat move as she swallowed.
“You know nothing of it,” she said, and he could almost hear her voice breaking. “Nothing of how it feels to be a disappointment, to be someone’s mistake.”
“Don’t I?” he murmured.
For a heartbeat, neither spoke. Then Jasper looked away, raking a hand through his hair as though to shake it off.
“So, this is it, then? You mean to hide yourself away and call it redemption?”
