Page 34 of Holding Onto Love

The music drew to an end. They could not continue this conversation, but he was heartily intrigued.

“Thank you, Miss Fogbotham.” He bowed. “I see Mr. Gamby approaching. And I am off to claim Mrs. Taverston.”

“That should be fun for everyone. Don’t mash her toes.”

He bowed again, leaving her to her inconstant suitor. It would be amusing, dancing with Georgiana. But he was more looking forward to locating Hazard. The man was not courting Alice. Or pretending to court her. The clever chit was launching his political career.

*

When the musicians began playing what must be the final set, Jasper thought he might finally, without incurring the duchess’s censure, make his goodbyes. He had danced with enough young ladies to have done his duty and had even danced with Georgiana twice. He may have had one too many glasses of champagne. It was time to depart.

One thing he had not had to do was bar Hazard access to his strategist. Hazard was not monopolizing Alice—he had not even bothered to attend the ball. It wasn’t unusual for Hazard to skip ton events. He’d had his fill of them over the years. But this was different. The duke and duchess were friends of his. Moreover, Jasper had wanted to talk to him. To twit him, yes, but also to find out what was truly going on.

He wasn’t the first to leave. The duke and duchess were standing together, near the doorway, not encouraging people to go but not discouraging them either.

“Hovington. Your Grace.” He bowed over the duchess’s hand. “An exceptional ball. Your niece is a diamond.” Alice was a resounding success.

The duchess smiled. She looked a bit misty eyed. “It went well, did it not? Thank you.”

“Me? For what?”

“For your graciousness. About everything.”

He chuckled. Graciously. “All’s well that ends well.”

He left Watershorn. His house was not far, a little over a mile. He hadn’t come in a carriage, so he would walk home, late though it was. It was not the cleverest thing to do, but he had never yet been accosted by a footpad.

He marched along briskly. He should be keeping his eyes open for trouble, but he had one of the waltzes stuck in his head. He couldn’t hum it out because he couldn’t hum on key. The imaginary music took his mind back to dancing.

He should have danced more with Vanessa. She loved waltzing. She was featherlight on her feet. It wasn’t as though they never were able to dance together. After the first few difficult months, with a little strong-arming on his part, they were invited as a couple to some small, very small, private parties. He and Vanessa even hosted a few parties themselves. There was generally dancing. He’d taken her to Vauxhall several times. Once, they went to a large, masked ball, but that had been a mistake. The masks never provided the degree of anonymity that the ton liked to pretend that they did.

Reginald had danced thrice tonight with Georgiana. It was considered bad ton to dance with one’s own wife at a ball. Another rule with no rhyme or reason. And Reg broke it without a qualm.

Jasper wished he’d danced with Vanessa more…married her and then danced with her more.

God. His head ached. He should not have had that last glass of champagne.

He turned from the road to the walk to his house. In the moonlight, there were strange shadows amongst the shrubbery. One flickered. Moved. Jasper gave a startled shout.

“It’s me.” The voice was unrecognizable, but Hazard emerged, practically fell, from a narrow space between two shrubs. He took two steps, and then he did fall. Jasper caught him.

“Good God! What happened?”

The side of the man’s face was coated with blood. Mostly dried. Some not.

“If it isn’t too much to ask, can we have this conversation inside?”

“The devil.”

Jasper wrenched one of Hazard’s arms across his shoulder and practically carried the man to his door. He banged on it with his foot. Finley opened it.

“My Lord? My Lord!”

“Brandy. The study. And…and…”

“Towels? Hot water?” Hazard suggested. His voice was not at all steady and his grin was distorted by a fattening lip. But he went on, “You are alarmingly bad at this. I’m beginning to think I should have chosen a different shrub.”

“Why did you pick mine?”