Page 20 of Holding Onto Love

“No, just one.”

“You always say goodnight twice.”

“Do I?”

“Always.”

“Now I will catch myself doing it.”

She giggled. Giggled like a little girl. He sighed. He loved this game that they played, learning the small things about one another. But he wanted more. “Vanessa.”

“Jasper?”

“You are a social woman who misses the company of her friends.”

She was silent a long moment and he was afraid he’d misstepped. At last, she answered quietly, “I am. I do. Though I had very few playmates as a child. I learned late the value of friendship. If there was anything good about that year…” She tossed her head. “And you are a gregarious man with many friends.”

“I like people. I like being around people.”

“Of course you do. And people are drawn to you.”

“You cannot know that.”

“It’s easy to guess.” She reached across the bed and squeezed his arm. “Jasper, what are you fishing for?”

“We have established, I think, that I like my life. What I have been trying to ask is if you would be willing to share in it a little more.”

She pulled back her hand. “A little more?”

“Only as much as you are comfortable doing. Not hostessing a party for my lecherous friends, or whatever other nonsense your solicitor implied I would be demanding. I have no intention of parading you about as my paramour.”

She set her jaw. “What do you intend?”

He took a huge breath, like a boy about to plunge into a cold lake. “There is a play I would not mind seeing. Tonight. We have a box—my father does—at the theater. It is as private as anything can be in a public theater. My parents are not in town. The box will otherwise be empty.”

“You wish me to go to the theater with you?”

“We can stay in the box during the intervals.” He could not make the rounds with her on his arm. “And let others come to us.” He had a few friends who almost certainly would. No ladies, of course. It would be horribly improper for a lady to acknowledge his mistress. Even so. There must be someone who would befriend Vanessa privately, if he asked it of them. “But, of course, I understand, if it is too much…”

She shook her head. She looked grim. But to his surprise, she said, “I will do it.”

“You will?”

“I can either live my life afraid of censure, or I can accept it as I have chosen it.” She fixed a look on him. “Yes, I would like to attend the theater with you.”

The third thing he knew, the most important thing: Vanessa was brave.

Chapter Seven

Vanessa was not natural mistress material. It took effort, and she had yet to master the basics even though it had already been two months.

She understood the main requirement was to accommodate Jasper in the bedchamber, though to her…surprise? enlightenment? … said chamber was not actually that often required. On the whole, his inventiveness was playful and certainly not vexing; even so, after enduring rather primitive conditions with poor Henry, she sometimes wished Jasper better appreciated the benefits of a reliably soft bed. And pillows thereupon. She quailed to imagine his intentions for the pianoforte. Hopefully, he understood the delicate instrument was not designed to bear weight.

Still. She believed he was satisfied, more than satisfied, with their bed sport. It was in other areas she feared she fell short.

Mistresses were supposed to be amusing. They soothed the brows of their harried lovers and provided them with light, untaxing conversation. Poor beleaguered Jasper had taken up the burden of initiating conversation himself. Also, although he evidently wished his mistress to be frivolous and require pampering, Vanessa could not be that woman. And now, Jasper seemed to feel it was his responsibility to entertain her.

Could she be a more troublesome mistress?