Page 115 of Holding Onto Love

Eden? More likely, Crispin’s headache. But Jasper was more than happy to leave it to him. He glanced about the cramped kitchen. Wondering.

“Is this yours? Your little Eden?”

She hesitated before answering, a little sourly, “In a way. But when we wed, it will become yours.”

He grimaced. Unfair, perhaps, yet that was the law. Wives could not own property in their own right. She was attached to it, but Cartmel was out of the way and not a particularly charming place to visit. He envisioned the house falling apart like the Binnings cottage. It made more sense to sell it. But she was attached to it. And the mill was here.

“Should we keep it?” he asked.

“I’d like to. And hire Bitter and Nan to live here as caretakers.”

“Bitter and Nan?”

She started to explain, something about a colony of bootmakers and craftsmen and nursemaids, but he stopped her.

“My love, yes. Whatever you want.” He laughed. “I’ll wear flowered boots onto the floor of Parliament. But now, we need to return to Binnings. I left Olivia on tenterhooks and Crispin cross as crabs. My coach is in Paxton Downs. Crispin said not to bring it here. Can you pack a few things? We’ll send for the rest.”

“I haven’t much, Jasper. If you go fetch the coach, I’ll be ready before you return.” She held out her hand. “But come with me for a moment first?”

She looked up from under her lashes rather enticingly. He laid his hand in hers, expecting a tour of the bedroom. But she led him back through her parlor, out her front door, and down the walk. She shushed him when he tried to ask where they were going.

When she pushed open her neighbor’s gate, a woman came dashing out of the house. She was young and apple-cheeked—pretty in a common way. No. He kicked himself. She was pretty. Full stop.

Vanessa whispered to him, “She will have seen you enter my cottage. It’s cruel to keep her in suspense.”

“And who is this?” the woman cried.

Jasper ignored the egregious manners and made a small bow.

“Lord Taverston, this is my dear friend Mrs. Charlotte Gowe.”

“I’m delighted, Mrs. Gowe.”

“Taverston?” Charlotte said. Her eyes widened.

“Lord Jasper Taverston. The Earl of Iversley,” Vanessa explained.

She gaped. “Jasper?”

Vanessa nodded. “With a J.”

The girl’s squeal of delight pierced his eardrums. Oddly, if he wasn’t mistaken, it wasn’t his title that thrilled her but his J.

Chapter Thirty-One

True to form, Jasper bore the introduction genially: Vanessa knew he would. He kissed the back of Charlotte’s hand, then waited for the children to be brought out—to meet an earl!—and squatted down to solemnly shake the little boys’ hands.

Charlotte was too much agog at the news of the engagement for any serious conversation, so after Jasper rode off to Paxton Downs to retrieve the coach, Vanessa ran back to the Gowes.’ She had a few things to set in motion and hadn’t much time.

“We’re leaving today, and I’ll be gone quite a while.” She put the key to the cottage into Charlotte’s hand. “Please don’t let the food I’ve left go to waste.”

“A gentleman, you said! You never said he was an earl! Lawks, Vanessa! Can I still call you Vanessa?”

“Yes, of course you can.” It made her feel a bit green to think people would now call her Lady Iversley.

“But how did you ever meet him? An earl? And when?”

She should have prepared for the inevitable questions. Naturally, Charlotte was curious. So would Lydia be. And Mary and Myrtle. She couldn’t blurt out the truth—that she’d been the man’s mistress and had lied to them all this time. It would hurt more to have her Cartmel friends shun her than the whole of the ton.