Page 114 of Holding Onto Love

“They can’t! There is no profit in that.”

“Well,” he fumed, ready to be very disagreeable, “even I have a better business sense than that. If they were never turning a profit—”

“They were! The mill provided a living for half a dozen people until the Leather Tax—”

“The Leather Tax?” His knees nearly buckled.

“Yes, Jasper. A tax on leather. The damn nobs thought to pay for the war on the backs of hardworking cobblers, injured veteran bootmakers, saddlers, and…and…”

“Children who need shoes,” he said hollowly. He rattled his head, then stomped to the window and faced out. “Bloody hell!”

“Jasper?” Now she sounded more worried than annoyed. “Jasper, what’s wrong?”

“I’m one of the damn nobs.”

She was quiet for a long moment. “You voted for the tax?”

He exhaled. Inhaled and exhaled. Then he turned. The expression on her face—disappointment. In him. There was no point in claiming his single vote made no difference in the outcome. The point was, he’d voted carelessly and wrongly.

“Vanessa, I’m…I won’t ask you to abandon your friends. I’ll support you however you need.”

Her mouth pursed. “That doesn’t change—”

“No, of course it doesn’t. It won’t make up for anything. I erred and I regret it. But the only thing I can do is learn to do better. I have been trying. I want to be a good man—”

“You are a good man.”

“Then a less…” He knew the word. It wasn’t fear of being “boring” that haunted him. “A less shallow man. There is so much that I need to learn to understand. Things I never had the cause or opportunity to understand. I-I need your help.”

Vanessa’s face softened. She came to him and wrapped her arms about his waist, then laid her head on his chest. He lifted her chin and kissed her.

“Do you still want to marry this Tory nob?”

“Surprisingly, yes. I do.”

“We should marry quickly. Perhaps a special license?”

“Jasper, I would like to have the banns read.” She sounded wistful. He remembered her first marriage had been a hasty elopement. She deserved better.

“Yes, of course. Banns.” That would take a month. But it wasn’t as though an early babe would surprise anyone. No one imagined they’d been chaste for four years. “Ah, what the devil. They say the first babe always comes in seven months; it’s only the rest that take nine.”

He meant it as a jest, but her eyes had a stricken look before she managed a smile.

She said, “Your ton friends should be grateful. We are providing them with years’ worth of drawing room chatter.”

“Yes, quite.” That hurt in her eyes bothered him. What had he said wrong? He pressed on more gently. No big ton wedding, obviously. “Would you prefer to be wed here in Cartmel?”

She considered the question.

“No, that wouldn’t make sense. It would inconvenience your family. Besides, I don’t want to overwhelm everyone here. Imagine what they’ll think when I reveal I’m a Culpepper. And that I’m going to be a countess. Jasper, I’m not going to swallow up their enterprise the way my father would, then pay them an unlivable pittance.” She crossed her arms over her chest and sighed. “But I wouldn’t blame them for thinking that’s my intention.”

“Focus, love. I merely asked where we should wed.”

She gave him a rueful smile. “In Iversley. And I’d like to honeymoon in Binnings, if Crispin permits, but you must promise me you won’t fix anything there.”

“Binnings?” The deuce. “But you’ve seen the cottage. It’s a hovel. Crispin hasn’t the time or the funds to restore it. After all he has done for me, for us—”

“It is hardly a hovel,” she interrupted, shaking her head. “It is his own little Eden.”