Page 80 of Holding Onto Love

“Caro?” Jasper was unacquainted with anyone by that name.

“A new fellow. You’ll find him amusing.” He hesitated, then said, “Crispin brought him around earlier and asked me to keep him for a few days. Entertain him. Crispin is in London you know.”

“Yes, I saw him earlier at home.”

“Oh? Good. He acted offended that I thought you two may have fallen out and said he’d make it a point to talk to you before he sails away.” Hazard shrugged. “At any rate, he thought Caro would be bored at 8 Grosvenor Square.” A smile crept out. “I invited Crispin to this, but he said he had business at Madame LaFontaine’s to take care of.”

“Typical.”

Hazard dropped his voice to a confidential volume. “He looked well. Army life agrees with him, it seems.”

Jasper nodded. Oddly enough, it did. It occurred to him then, rather abruptly, that this “Caro” was likely Crispin’s fallback. It didn’t annoy him—much—that Crispin had so little faith in his elder brother’s abilities. Crispin probably had a backup for the fallback.

“Prinny will be late,” Hazard said. “He always is. But as soon as he does arrive, we’ll direct him back here. Everyone else will follow fairly quickly. Caro will remain in the Subscription Room to keep an eye on Hilyer. I suspect it won’t be long before Hilyer tries to join the party. If he does not try on his own, Caro will goad him into it.”

“What if he tries before the Prince Regent arrives?”

“Then we proceed without Prinny. He isn’t necessary to the scheme. He’s the icing on the cake. There are enough peers here to witness the cut.”

“Fine.” He was less concerned now about the insult than the aftermath. He had to time things well if he was to push Hilyer to run.

“Come,” Hazard said. “I’ll introduce you to Caro.”

They returned to the Great Subscription Room. Hazard gestured to the far corner where a fop sat reading a newspaper. He was dressed splashily in white knee britches and a bright yellow jacket. He had jet-black hair that fell in lush waves, covering half his left eye. Jasper approached warily.

Hazard smiled. “Caro, this is the man of the hour, my friend Lord Taverston.”

Caro rose slowly, setting down his newspaper. He looked Jasper up and down, then licked his upper lip like a cat and said, “Well, hello.”

Jasper tensed and said a wooden, “Hello.”

“Ah, that went well,” Hazard said, then laughed. “Caro hails from Italy. An exile. Not fond of Bonaparte, you see.”

“He’s in good company.”

“I am an artist,” Caro said, glancing at his fingernails before sliding a hooded gaze back to Jasper. His accent was slightly foreign. “I would like to draw you.”

Jasper tried not to frown. “Well, perhaps. I may be due for a portrait—”

“No,” Hazard said. He tapped Caro’s arm and said sternly, “No.” He turned to Jasper. “I’ve seen some of Caro’s art. It should be reserved for select tastes.”

Jasper felt his face redden.

“Join me,” Caro suggested, gesturing to the table holding his newspaper. “I think we have some things to say to one another.”

Jasper looked to Hazard, whose face was blank, then back to Caro. He nodded, then lowered himself into a chair. Caro sat also. Hazard slid away. Caro pulled a sketchbook from underneath the newspaper and began making stray marks.

“I understand there is to be a…a dustup.”

“A small one. Yes.”

Caro smiled. It was not a pleasant smile. “Viscount Haslet says there is to be no duel. He will ensure that.” Caro’s smile disappeared. “If he fails, you are to name me as your second.”

“Oh?” Jasper didn’t know what to make of that. “Why?”

“There will be no duel.”

“May I ask—”