Page 88 of Holding Onto Love

“But will he come back?”

She saw Jasper raise his eyes, looking to Crispin, then he lowered his gaze to her and said, “No.”

“Good.”

“Vanessa, I promised you I wouldn’t leave you alone, waiting—”

“And I said I would eventually outgrow such neediness. Do you think, Jasper,” she pulled his arm, turned a little aside, and said, “that we could have this conversation at home?”

He flushed, glanced at his brother again, then back at her. “Yes, of course.”

Crispin laughed. “I’ll be at Tattersalls. If you join me there, fine. If not, I think I can manage to choose my own horse.”

*

As Vanessa and Jasper approached their townhouse, she noticed a young man lurking at the gate.

“Wait here a moment,” she said, putting her hands on Jasper’s chest. “Please.” Then she hurried to her brother.

“Freddy?” She drew closer. “Freddy! It is you. What on earth?”

“Nessa!” He raced to her and threw his arms around her.

“Vanessa!” Jasper shouted.

“It’s all right, Jasper. I know him. Wait a moment. Please.”

To his credit, Jasper remained where he was.

“If you want to run,” Freddy said in a low voice, “I have my pistol. I will keep him…”

“Oh, Freddy, hush.” Her brother looked disheveled. Wild-eyed and disheveled. He had not returned home. He must have spent the last several hours tracking her down. “I have no wish to run from Lord Taverston. Don’t be foolish.”

“But he—”

“But nothing. I am a widow. I’m of age. I’ll do as I please.”

“But you wrote you were afraid.”

“Not—” She bit her tongue. She almost said she was afraid of Hilyer, not Jasper. “I didn’t write.” She laughed a little falsely. “What on earth could I be afraid of in London?”

“I-I brought your ten pounds,” he stammered, confused.

“Ten pounds?” She made her face curious. “What ten pounds?”

“You said you needed to hide out in the country.”

“Freddy, what in the world are you talking about?”

He pulled a crumpled letter from his pocket. “This.”

She looked at it. Widened her eyes. Then said in a frightened tone, “I didn’t write this, Freddy. Who did? Who knew about…” she dropped her voice and whispered, “the marquess?”

“Oh, everyone knew.” He practically whined the words. “Nessa, what do you mean you didn’t write to me? Last night? He said it was from you.”

“Who said?”

“A beefy fellow. Foreigner, I think.”