Matilda nearly dropped the trunk lid on her finger. “Attract him?” she spluttered, her eyes widening in shock. “He is the very last person I wish to think about, let alone attract! Surely you jest, Cordelia?”
Cordelia tossed her head, utterly unbothered. “I am never known for jesting about amusement, Matilda. And if sparks fly, well… one might as well see if they ignite a proper fire, don’t you think?”
Hazel froze, one hand halfway to straightening a pleat of fabric, staring at her friend with the faintest hint of panic. “Cordelia…” she began cautiously, “I do not think?—”
“I for one, think it would be delightful,” Cordelia interrupted, cutting her off with glee. “Now, imagine the scandal, the laughter, the fun of it all!”
Matilda gaped at her. “Fun? Thefunof deliberately annoying and provoking Jasper Everleigh? I should think you have quite lost your mind!”
“Why?” Cordelia chuckled. “It’s not as if you’re aren’t already provoking each other.”
Matilda fixed Cordelia with a pointed look. “Need I remind you of what happened at the ball? If you recall, I sought the sanctuary of the library to escape the press of attention and what did I find there?”
Hazel, who was absent when Matilda shared this story with Cordelia, blinked. “What?”
“I stumbled upon that scoundrel, Jasper Everleigh, pressed against a redheaded widow! In the library, of all places!” Matilda’s voice rose with indignation. “Do you know what that is like? To be trapped in a room with a man behaving as though propriety were a trifle, and a widow leaning upon him as if he were a post to support her scandalous inclinations?”
Hazel froze mid-fold, eyes wide. “You what? Surely not! I… I had no idea this happened!”
Matilda threw up her hands in exasperation. “Clearly, you were blissfully spared the horror of it until now. But yes! I was met with the most offensive tableau imaginable. I barely escaped with my composure intact.”
Cordelia’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “Oh, but itwasdelightful gossip! You, flustered and upright, and the duke caught as he is, with the widow’s scarlet curls cascading over his coat! People whispered for hours afterward. Some thought it a comedy, some a scandal!”
Matilda groaned. “Scandal! It was nothing but sheer impropriety! And he… he had the audacity to tease me! Asked if I were jealous, of all things! Needless to say, all I wanted to do was escape the scene unobserved.”
“And yet,” Cordelia said slyly, “you did not escape entirely. My, my! What fun this fortnight at Kenton will be!”
Matilda groaned, dropping a ribbon into her trunk with unnecessary force. “I do not find amusement in being repeatedly accosted by that scoundrel.”
Hazel shook her head, muttering, “This is a disaster waiting to happen…”
Cordelia twirled, tossing a scarf over her shoulder. “Precisely why it will be glorious. Two weeks of unavoidable encounters! You, the duke, and the infant. Let the sparks fly!”
Matilda muttered something under her breath about raccoons, scandal, and the perils of chaotic friends, but she could not entirely deny the faint, reluctant flicker of amusement at the thought.
Chapter Five
“Keep your guard up, cousin, or you will lose that pretty nose of yours.”
Jasper turned his head sharply. He had been alone in the boxing room, stripped to his shirtsleeves, with his fists wrapped and striking at the bag with steady force. The sudden voice drew him from the rhythm, and when he looked up, Mason was stepping through the ropes, rolling his sleeves and wearing a grin upon his face.
“This is not the club, cousin,” Jasper said, breath stilling as he straightened. “And you are not my trainer, so I can’t promise to take it easy on you.”
“No,” Mason agreed, tugging his cuffs higher. “But you looked in need of a challenge.”
Jasper smirked. “I thought you would be above such barbarous pursuits. A gentleman of your civility prefers polished floors and polite company.”
“And yet here I am.” Mason lifted his fists in mock readiness. “Besides, I do not believe barbarity lies in the sport itself, but in how one uses it.”
Jasper circled, indulging him. Boxing had begun as rebellion, a sport his father despised for its coarseness. But over the years it had become something more. It became an escape, a release, a craft in its own right. He liked the honesty of it. No title, no inheritance, no impossible expectations mattered inside the ring. Only fists, breath, and will.
“You are quick with philosophy,” Jasper said, jabbing lightly to test his cousin’s stance. “Perhaps too quick. Careful you do not trip on your own wisdom.”
Mason laughed, deflecting the strike with clumsy but eager motion. “Better to stumble in here than in the parlor. I came to see if you had grown idle in your leisure. Clearly, I was mistaken.”
“Idle?” Jasper’s fist cut the air near Mason’s shoulder, drawing a surprised jerk from him. “I am many things, cousin, but never idle.”
Mason grunted, recovering, eyes narrowed with concentration. “So you say. But there is more at work here than sport. You are restless.”
