Page 108 of Holding Onto Love

“And you can’t argue with Jasper because he is far too agreeable. You will think he is concurring with you and then you discover you somehow ended up in agreement by agreeing with him.”

While Vanessa had laughed quietly at the truth in that, Crispin roared. She wondered what specific memories it had evoked, but he didn’t share, so she didn’t ask.

She couldn’t help quizzing Olivia. “Who wins when they argue with each other?”

Olivia rolled her eyes. “They each think they do.” Then she considered it a moment and said, “Reg, of course, but they would never admit it.”

Crispin had given her a tender, admiring glance and said, “Livvy-pet, when did you become so wise?”

Oh! She could marry Jasper just to be part of his family.

But was it fair of her to do that to them? They would befriend her and defend her. She had no doubt. But could she burden them with that?

She shut the curtain, closed her eyes, and tried not to think about the dilemma for the rest of the journey. She wanted to think away from all this.

But also, there was this: She should have told Jasper about the baby. Not this morning. Not as a confession or deterrent or a plea for his pity. It was something she should have shared with him long before now. Would he wonder why she’d kept it from him? It wasn’t that she meant to hide it. There had simply never been the right time to bring up so private a hurt. But now that children were something to be desired rather than avoided at all costs, it seemed critical that she tell him. She didn’t consider herself at great risk for barrenness. Lydia had assured her she was not. But what if she never did bear Jasper a child, and he learned, somehow, of her miscarriage. What might he think?

After Jasper’s coach let her off, the walk from Paxton Downs felt particularly lengthy. Although footsore and tired, she went first to the Comptons. Oliva had requested boots like Georgiana’s, so she brought the tracing and payment to their workshop. The moment she walked through the door Jon embraced her.

“We got two more orders from Cambridge and two from Oxford Village. It seems your friend threw a dinner party, and all the ladies want boots.”

“Oh, Jon! How wonderful! And here’s another.” She opened her valise and took out Olivia’s tracing. “Lady Olivia Taverston asked if she might have apple blossoms.”

He beamed. “Bitter will say yes. Mrs. Wardrip, this has been such a blessing.” His smile shrank. “But tell me, honestly, do you think there will be more? Or will your connections run out?”

“I can’t say for certain.” She wished she could give a better answer. “I think there will be more, but you are right not to rely on my circle. The boots have to prove their appeal more widely.”

Jon’s expression fell into more contemplative lines. “I’ve had a letter from the vicar over in Chilton. There’s a cavalryman back from the Peninsula, burned real bad, the vicar says—”

“Who needs a position.”

“I want to say yes. He can live over the stable with Tom and Liam. If there’s work enough…”

If she were a countess, moving about in Society, she could flood them with work. Although, no. What was she thinking? A countess was not permitted to peddle her wares. She’d be better situated to help them as Jasper’s mistress than as his wife.

“I wish I could be more certain.”

He bobbed his head. “I know I can’t ask for more than that. I’m sorry. It just—”

“You aren’t asking for yourself. You’re a generous man, Jon. I’ll do what I can. Is Lydia around?”

“She’s over at Myrtle and Mary’s. I’ll tell her you paid a call.” He waved the scrolled tracing like a magician’s wand. “This will bolster my argument.”

Vanessa left the Comptons’ and continued her walk home. Each step put her in mind of other walks back and forth, but the most forceful memory was of Charlotte bringing word of a visitor, and her first sight of Crispin in nearly a year. She’d been so shaken.

She saw a figure coming up the road, but it was not Charlotte. A few yards more, and she realized it was Sherwood. There was nothing down the rest of this road but the Gowes’ little farm and her cottage.

“Mrs. Wardrip!” He shouted and waved. She returned the wave, but not the shout. He began to hurry. There was no point slowing her step to avoid him; they would reach one another regardless.

He stopped in her path.

“Charlotte said you went to Binnings. I can take that.” He reached for her valise. “I’ll walk you home.”

She dodged him. “That isn’t necessary, Sherwood, but thank you.”

“Mrs. Wardrip!” He huffed, exasperated. “I’m trying to court you!”

And Jasper thought he had been clumsy.