Jasper’s jaw tightened. Restless? Yes. Too restless, perhaps. But he would not admit it aloud.
“Perhaps I simply enjoy hitting something that does not cry out afterward,” Jasper replied with a wicked grin, striking again, lighter this time, a tease.
Mason shook his head, blocking with less grace than determination. “You deflect with jest, as always.”
Jasper laughed, a low sound that echoed in the room. “And you meddle with reason, as always. Shall we call it even?”
Mason shook his head, lowering his guard for but a moment. “No, cousin, we shall not call it even. Not until you tell me what in Heaven’s name possessed you to go fraternizing with widows in the middle of a ball.”
Jasper’s fist stilled, hovering in the air before he let it fall. His brows lifted in mock offense. “Fraternizing? You make it sound as though I had been parading her about the ballroom on my arm. I assure you, it was nothing of the sort.”
Mason threw a clumsy jab, which Jasper deflected with ease. “Cordelia has an open mind,” Mason went on, as his breath came quicker with the exertion, “but even she remarked upon it. She was… uncomfortable.”
Jasper winced, more at the notion of Cordelia’s disapproval than at Mason’s strike. He pivoted away, circling once more. “ThenI must call upon her and beg her forgiveness, though I cannot claim the fault as mine. The widow cornered me in the library.” He ducked beneath Mason’s swing with an infuriatingly easy grace. “It happened just as I was attempting to withdraw, but she pressed her intentions with great vigor.”
Mason snorted, nearly losing his footing at Jasper’s casual tone. “That does not sound like the Jasper Everleigh I know. Since when do you retreat from feminine attention?”
“Since it was most inconvenient.” Jasper’s lips curved, the dimples flashing, as he landed a light tap to Mason’s shoulder. “Besides, you wound me, cousin. You speak as though I were incapable of restraint.”
“Youareincapable of restraint,” Mason shot back, grinning despite himself. “Every London hostess fears for the safety of her drawing room whenever you darken her threshold.”
Jasper laughed, a low warm sound that filled the room. “Exaggeration. A gentleman merely enjoys himself, and if ladies find that agreeable, well… who am I to deny them amusement?”
Mason pressed forward, his fists raised, his grin determined. “One day you will find yourself cornered not by a widow but by someone altogether more dangerous. A wife. And then, cousin, your freedom will vanish in a puff of lace and petticoats.”
Jasper parried and delivered a playful blow to Mason’s ribs, enough to make him grunt. “Perish the thought. A devoted husband like yourself may extol the virtues of matrimonial bliss,but I am resolved never to succumb to such a fate. I am quite safe.”
Mason caught his breath, straightening, his eyes glinting with both humor and affection. “Safe, are you? We shall see. If not at Kenton, then soon enough.”
Jasper only smirked, landing one last teasing jab before stepping back. “Dream on, cousin. I will leave matrimony to saints like you. And speaking of matrimony and wives, I promise to call upon yours and apologize for my… transgression.”
Mason adjusted his stance, circling with renewed energy. “Cordelia may forgive your little library transgression,” he said between measured breaths, “but I am not certain Matilda will.”
The name struck like an unexpected blow. Jasper’s jaw clenched, his guard dropped a fraction and Mason, quick as ever, seized the advantage. His glove thudded against Jasper’s shoulder, sending him stumbling back a step.
Mason grinned, triumphant. “Ah. So that is the trick. Mention Lady Matilda, and the mighty Duke of Harrow falters. I have found your weak spot at last, old boy.”
“Rubbish,” Jasper retorted, regaining his footing with a scowl. “If she were truly my weakness, I should have collapsed entirely, not merely yielded you a moment’s victory.”
Mason’s grin widened. “Then you admit she unsettles you?”
Jasper snorted, throwing a lazy jab to disguise his irritation. “She unsettles me only insofar as a gnat unsettles one’s peace. Irritating, persistent, and impossible to ignore, no matter how often one swats it away.”
Mason ducked the jab, still grinning. “Strange, then, that a mere gnat should make you forget yourself in the ring. My cousin, distracted by a lady? I shall treasure this day.”
“You are insufferable.” Jasper landed a quick tap against Mason’s ribs, harder than necessary, and stepped back. “I could not care less what she thinks of me.”
“Mm,” Mason drawled, rubbing his side with exaggerated injury. “Then why did you lose focus the instant I spoke her name?”
Jasper rolled his eyes heavenward. “Because she annoys me to no end, Mason. Every word she utters is calculated to grate. Every look she casts suggests I am some villain fresh from the gallows. A man cannot breathe near her without incurring judgment.”
Mason’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “And yet you notice her every look, every word, every breath. Fascinating.”
Jasper gave him a flat stare, though the corner of his mouth tugged despite himself. “You mistake exasperation for fascination. And if you persist in this line of nonsense, I shall knock the wind from you entirely.”
Mason laughed, lifting his hands in mock surrender. “Peace, cousin. Only remember that denial is the first symptom.”
Jasper shook his head, turning away to strip off his gloves, though Mason’s words echoed unpleasantly in his mind. Weak spot indeed. If Lady Matilda was so eager to believe the worst of him, then let her. He would not trouble himself to change her mind.
