Page 46 of Holding Onto Love

She gritted her teeth and nodded. “I’ll wear my brown dress and the yellow bonnet.”

The point, after all, was to show her face.

Jasper disappeared during the days, attending to his usual cares or to his new schemes. He wouldn’t say. But he did have plans for their evenings.

The first, he drove her down one of the less popular paths in Hyde Park where they would be seen but he could still let his horses clip along. At that pace, it was less obvious that no one greeted them. He was unperturbed, greeting none of them either. Instead, he focused on his ribbons and on her. And it was a lovely evening for a ride.

Jasper said, “Lilies are not your favorite flower. That would be bluebells. And hollyhocks make you sneeze.”

“You carry two handkerchiefs in your breast pocket. One large and one small. I have yet to discover why.”

“A gentleman always carries a dainty handkerchief to offer a lady if a need should arise. But that little wisp of cloth does not suffice for my nasal needs.”

“Ah. A man of mystery no more.”

They were no longer strangers. Yet he did not know all of her secrets. And despite his evident openness, she suspected he must have some as well.

He said, “You butter your toast out to the very edges. And lick your fingers when you think I am not looking.”

She slid a glance at him. “I lick my fingers when I know you are looking.”

He laughed. Not to show the world the delightful time they were having, but because he was having a delightful time, she was sure of it. After all, so was she.

The second night, she thought she noted a hint of impatience. When they returned home the third night, cold and drenched from the sleeting rain they had ridden in, he was exasperated. There were so few people in the park, that it was painfully obvious they were being ignored by those there.

“Jasper, it isn’t important.”

“It is. But I know what went wrong.” He huffed. Then confessed, “There were a few lines in today’s Morning Post. There will not be again.”

She wanted to swear like a soldier. Instead, she said, “What did they say?”

“Nothing that bears repeating. It was vulgar.”

“Of course it was vulgar. It was the Post. But it will hardly shock me.”

His gaze slid past her, and she noticed he was reddening.

He recited, “It has come to our attention that the daughter of a notably moneyed cit prefers a handsome bed to a purchased title.”

She felt faint and hoped she hadn’t gone pale. She’d said it wouldn’t shock her. “At least it is accurate.”

“It was heavy-handed. I can’t imagine Hilyer is pleased with it.” He tossed his head. “The people who write these things are generally cleverer. He likely didn’t pay them enough.”

Jasper was peeved at being called a handsome bed. How…revealing.

“Well,” he went on, “we have taken the carriage rides as far as they can go. Tomorrow afternoon, we stroll.”

“Walking? Past people who turn up their noses and avert their eyes?” She didn’t know if she could do it.

“They will acknowledge us. I’m bringing the heavy guns.”

*

The Earl of Iversley descended from his gleaming black coach. Old-fashioned and boxy, it was substantial enough to require six horses to draw. Vanessa and Jasper had been awaiting him at the entrance to Kensington Park, but he hadn’t kept them long. Crowds were milling about. They stopped milling to observe.

The earl held himself erect, though he gripped his walking stick tightly. It was more than decoration. His hair was a faded blond version of Jasper’s. He had the same color eyes, a vivid blue, but his were more piercing. More like Lieutenant Taverston’s. And if Jasper’s demeanor hinted at friendly arrogance, this man’s oozed it.

“Jasper.”