Page 71 of Holding Onto Love

“Crispin.” It did not begin with a J.

Charlotte’s face fell. “And the other?”

“The other?”

“The gentleman you met in Binnings. With his wife.”

What was Charlotte accusing her of? She snapped, “Reginald. It begins with an R.”

Charlotte scooped Sweet Kate, who had begun to fuss, onto her shoulder and patted her back.

“But Taverston does begin with a T.” She rocked Sweet Kate back and forth. “It isn’t my business who. I know it isn’t. It’s just—” She searched a minute for the words. “It has been more than four years since Henry’s death. And this man loves you.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“And you’re holding onto his letter. You must care—”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Well, for pity’s sake, Vanessa. Why not?”

Why not?

“Because,” she said, sitting down heavily. She was so weary of this. “Because he is a gentleman. And gentlemen do not marry for love.”

All Charlotte answered was, “Oh.”

Vanessa kept quiet a moment, waiting for questions, waiting for sympathy, then she spoke.

“I don’t want to be teased or pitied, Charlotte. Can I ask you to keep this to yourself?”

Charlotte scowled. “I’m not going to spill your secrets. It’s just that it makes me angry. He says he loves you, but what kind of love is that?”

“He has obligations.”

“Oh, now, don’t go defending him. He had no business falling in love with you if he was going to cry off.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“No? Well, it should be.” Charlotte tossed her head and gave Sweet Kate another bounce. “Put him out of your head. There are plenty of men, good men, who’d marry you in a minute. You don’t want to be alone, do you? No children? A cold bed?”

No, she didn’t.

“Sherwood is a little too full of himself,” Charlotte went on. “And Jon is probably too old. But Tam is good-hearted. Just too shy to ever say much. And over in Barrow—”

“Charlotte, don’t.” The last thing she wanted was a matchmaker. “I’m not ready.”

Charlotte harumphed, then sat back down and loosened her neckline so Sweet Kate could nurse. Vanessa took a sip of cold tea.

“Should I read a bit more?”

Charlotte nodded. “I suppose. But Vanessa, if you just look around, you’ll find someone right quick, and this J.T. will fly out of your head.”

Vanessa was not about to argue. But Jasper would never “fly out of her head.” Or her heart. She loved him. Always. She always would.

Chapter Twenty-One

Back from Chaumbers, at home in London, Jasper sat in the library of all places, reading a collection of Walpole’s papers. Hazard’s hero. Parliament would open again in a couple months and, this time, Jasper wanted to understand the opposition better. He wanted to not simply vote Tory because it was what Taverstons had always done, but because he believed in the positions he would be espousing. The problem was, that it was hard to argue against some of what Walpole said.