Page 85 of Holding Onto Love

“What the hell? Reliable witnesses?”

“Crispin was concerned for your welfare. Firstly, that Hilyer would exact some sort of revenge if you went stumbling towards Grosvenor Square in the wee hours of the morning. But also, he said that if anything happened to Hilyer, it should not happen after the two of you publicly squabbled.”

“What did he imagine would happen to Hilyer?” What—that he would confide to Hazard?

“I don’t know.” Hazard ruffled his hair, then scratched his earlobe. “Footpads most like. Or there is apoplexy. A heart seizure. The man is not a healthy specimen, and he was choleric. Moreover, you’re not the only one with a grudge against him. Yours was only the most recent and most visible grudge.”

“I never knew Crispin for such a nervous old maid.”

“Well, he managed to frighten me as well. I don’t know what he will do when he finds out I’ve misplaced Caro.”

“You’ve what?”

“You left him snoring in the Subscription Room, but apparently, he woke and slunk out. Haven’t seen him since. If Crispin complains, tell him I’m not a nanny.” Hazard stood, appearing well-pleased with himself. “You may borrow that shirt. I have some calls to pay. I assume you can find your way out.”

*

Vanessa did not sleep. She lay in bed. She closed her eyes. But sleep eluded her the entire night. When dawn broke, she rose and dressed. And waited.

It was midmorning before a maid knocked at the door with a tray. When the girl left, Vanessa lifted the cover to find tea and fresh buns. She sat to eat, hungry despite her anxiousness. When she lifted the teapot, she found a folded note under it.

They are both fine.

She let out a long, shaky breath, then started to cry, the ferocity of her relief making her aware of how truly frightened she had been.

*

Jasper entered 8 Grosvenor Square fully intending to go straight to the Rose Room. But Peters met him at the door and said staidly, “Lord and Lady Iversley wish you to attend them in the small parlor.”

He decided it wasn’t worth antagonizing them further. And Vanessa had waited this long, a few more minutes would not matter.

He trod into the small parlor with a scowl on his face. His mother sat by the fire embroidering. His father, in his usual chair near the brightest lamp, read the afternoon newspaper. Crispin sprawled on the davenport, smirking over a copy of the Morning Post.

“Have a seat, Jasper,” his father said without looking up.

“Have you eaten?” his mother asked.

Jasper nodded, though he had not.

Crispin chuckled.

“What?” Jasper said.

It irritated him to see Crispin so relaxed in loose trousers, a crisp shirt, and an unbuttoned waistcoat. A light gray jacket was draped over the arm of the davenport. His riding boots had small scuffs at the heels. He looked every bit like a soldier on a well-deserved leave. One who had slept. Slept well.

Crispin rolled up the Post and tossed it to him. “The cartoon.”

Jasper unfurled it. A large-headed, small-bodied caricature of Hilyer stood alone in a cavernous room with empty card tables, banging his fist against a closed door. A scribbled sign on the door said gentlemen only. On the other side of the door, hordes of men, well-dressed but with indistinguishable faces, played cards at tables laden with champagne glasses. Near the window, a very large Prince Regent smiled broadly. Above his head, a bubble read: You promised fisticuffs!

“Caro was busy last night.” He rolled the paper and lobbed it back at Crispin, who caught it one-handed.

“Busier than you can possibly know.”

“Hazard was worried he’d lost him.”

Crispin snorted.

“You are being rude,” the countess said, setting aside her embroidery.