Page 40 of Holding Onto Love

Jasper was a terrible moper. Meaning, he did it badly. He was not constitutionally suited to mope. His body would not sit still for it.

Instead, he went about his usual activities. And then, once an hour at least, with no warning, no trigger, he would be seized with an almost unbearable sadness. It spread over him like a wave of nausea. He would have to pause to let it work its way through. Vanessa was gone. Gone. And then it would pass. The feeling would harden away, shrink into a stone that would sink, sink inside him. He was cobbling his innards.

Maybe that was what hardened men. These types of stones. Then they were inured to any future love pains.

Jasper hadn’t the fortitude. He could not lie about and mope. Nor had he yet turned into stone. So, he’d spent the afternoon at Tattersalls. Buying carriage horses for Reg.

One had to love Reg, the silly arse. So determined to support himself and his wife on that—what did he call it? A stipend? Reg had been obligated to resign his Cambridge fellowship when he married—University regulations—but the don he worked with wanted him nevertheless and paid the salary out of his own pocket. Reg had Georgiana’s dowry, but it seemed he was reluctant to make use of it. Jasper told him he was welcome to keep his allowance, but Reg firmly said no. He was not Jasper’s dependent. Which was admirable, in its way.

But for pity’s sake. Reg was a Taverston. And his wife was a duke’s daughter. When Georgiana said she loved traipsing up and down the streets of Cambridge and didn’t mind riding the mail coach to London, Reg believed her. Jasper shook his head. He was not accusing Georgiana of lying, or feminine wiles, or not knowing her own head…well, lying maybe. She meant well. But the devil. He’d known Reg longer. His brilliance and obliviousness. Enough was enough.

There was a landau going to rust in the carriage house. Jasper insisted Reg take it. And to come spend the afternoon with him at Tattersalls. He used a wistful, lightly embarrassed smile that even Reg could not mistake for anything but a plea for company. Poor lonely Jasper.

And then, damned if he hadn’t enjoyed the experience. He knew horses. The one thing in the world he knew better than Reginald was horses.

He enjoyed it right up until the moment he had to pause, stop chattering, and let himself feel his loss all over again. Reg, bless him, rather aimlessly lifted and examined hooves, felt legs, inspected teeth, and said nothing until Jasper picked up the thread of the conversation where he’d dropped it.

A splendid day, given it all. He was arriving home with enough time to have a bite and change his clothes for the evening. When he would drag Hazard to White’s.

Hazard had spent five days letting bruises fade and swellings go down before returning to his own house. He had missed the closing day of Parliament, despite Jasper’s urging him to attend. One could not tell he had been beaten unless one looked hard, and men did not look at each other’s faces that closely. Usually. Hazard would not go. Hovington, in passing, grumbled that the Viscount was unreliable. Alice must be heartbroken if Hovington repeated that at home.

It was all in a piece with the new timidity Jasper was noticing in his friend. He’d caught him startling at sudden noises. Worse, his wit was off.

There was nothing for it but to cast Hazard into the ring and let him slug his way out. A horrible metaphor under the circumstances. But Jasper had no doubt that, when surrounded by lesser wits at White’s, who spouted their conservative opinions accompanied by brandy-scented spittle, Hazard would rally. He just needed a shove.

Jasper entered his home—Lud, his sepulchral castle—feeling just a tad full of himself. Vanessa would poke him in the arm and say a long “pssshhhhh,” to let the gas out.

Finley hurried to him, reaching for his walking stick.

“My lord. There is a Mr. Carroll waiting in the study.” His nose twitched. “I asked to take his card, but he said he would wait. Should I send him away?”

“Benjamin is here?” His spirits lifted higher.

“He said you sent for him, but—”

“I did. Months ago.” He’d offered his old friend the job of steward at Chaumbers. The ship Benjamin had said he would be on, from Canada, had put into harbor two weeks ago, but he wasn’t on it. No further word had come, and Jasper had gone from peeved to worried. “I’ll go straight up. Did you offer him anything?”

“No, my lord. He—” Whatever Finley had been about to say, he thought better of it. “Shall I bring brandy?”

“Yes.” No. He had White’s to get through. He couldn’t start drinking yet. “No. Coffee will do. Well, no, wait until I send for something.” God. He was practically giddy. How absurd of him. This was a man he was hiring. Nevertheless, he bounded up the stairs.

He flung open the door. Benjamin sat on one of the least comfortable chairs: uncushioned mahogany with a low back and no arms—they should burn that chair. He rose when Jasper entered the room. He bowed.

“My lord.”

Jasper stopped in his tracks. “Mr. Carroll. Thank you for coming.”

“Old Oxford chums” only carried men so far. Jasper could not stop his eyes from picking out details. Benjamin’s jacket needed pressing and there was a sheen of wear at the elbows. His boots appeared never to have seen a lick of polish. And there was an odor, a musty odor of sea and fish, that he must have carried from whatever ship he’d been on.

“Thank you for the offer of employment. I hope I am not too late.”

“No. Not at all.” Then something cracked inside him, and he said, “I simply assumed you were paying me back for all the times I failed to be punctual.”

In earlier days, he had left Benjamin waiting. A lot. Jasper did not grin often anymore, but he hadn’t forgotten how. Benjamin chewed his lip, then acknowledged the memory with a grin of his own. Jasper waved him into a chair.

“For God’s sake, not that one. Sit over there.” He took his own chair. He was a good deal taller than Benjamin and didn’t want to have this conversation standing. “I admit I was worried. Did you miss The Prince George?”

“In a manner of speaking. I took the next ship I could find.”