Page 51 of Holding Onto Love

“Jasper may permit me into his confidences, but whatever you came to say might have been yours. He put you in an awkward position.”

A smile brightened his face and he straightened from his slouch. “How remarkable! My dear, we do not do discretion here in the ton.”

She brought Pleyel’s Adagio to a premature close and turned.

“Is he all right?”

Hazard shrugged. “He is. How well do you know Crispin?”

“Lieutenant Taverston? Not well at all.”

“Yet from the little I have pieced together, he saved you at Corunna.”

“Yes, and I used to wonder why. What made me special. But I have started to suspect that I am not. I think rather in those final desperate days, Lieutenant Taverston ran around saving everyone that he could. It is simply that my story is the only one that I know.”

“A fascinating theory. And very likely correct. And now you may be irked that having saved you, he feels he is entitled to a say in how your salvation turns out.”

“That is also a fascinating theory. And possibly correct. I’m finding it difficult to be irked and grateful at the same time.”

“And that, I would wager, answers your question: How is Jasper? Irked and grateful. Maybe toss in guilty too.”

Guilt came too close to shame. Which they were not permitted to feel.

“So may I assume you brought Jasper more word from Lieutenant Taverston?”

She gestured to a chair, so as not to leave him standing in the doorway, but he shook his head.

“Do you suppose you might call him Crispin? Every time you say Lieutenant Taverston, I have to pause a moment and think who you mean.”

Vanessa stifled her laugh. “I hear his name so often I fear if he were to appear I would call him Crispin to his face.”

“Are you afraid of committing a faux pas?”

“Yes, very.”

“Well, you are doing very well. The earl was impressed. As am I. And I am much harder to impress.”

“Why you are so nice to me?”

“I don’t know.” He reached into his waistcoat for a snuffbox. “I suppose there are some people it is impossible to be mean to.” He sniffed. Then sneezed. Then he dabbed beneath his nose with a handkerchief. “Or maybe I am fascinated by the saga of the Taverstons and your recent entry into the tale has me agog.”

“So back to the tale. You did bring more word from Crispin.”

“Yes. But I don’t know what the word is. It was a letter that I left with Jasper.”

She sighed. Frustrated. She supposed Jasper would show her the letter, but she was wearying of their brotherly chest-thumping. “Explain” in all capital letters. Good Lord.

“I hope that doesn’t mean he’ll take another three hours agonizing over his response.”

“Vain hope. It must, of course, be composed just so.”

“I think,” she said grumpily, “he should simply not respond.”

“The cut direct? Via correspondence?” He chuckled. “You are worthy of a spot at the Taverston gaming table. You must, of course, meet Reginald next. He’s the sanest of the lot.”

“Sanest? Jasper portrays him as some sort of maniacal genius.”

“He is. But still. The sanest of the lot.” Hazard paused as though considering whether to go on. “He is off at school now. Which is fortunate for him. When those two truly go at it, Reg steps into the breach as peacemaker and often catches the brunt.”