Page 10 of Counting on Love

“Very tolerably. And she has wit.”

“She sounds too good for you.”

“No. I anticipate seventeen is the charm. She can’t refuse us all.” His smile went crooked. “It feels right, Reg. But I would like you to come and see her. Make sure I’m not missing her third eye or cork leg.”

Affection for his elder brother welled in Reginald’s breast. The man was such a perfect representative of the aristocrat “type,” that one could miss seeing his, well, his humanity. Marriage was a huge undertaking. A lifelong commitment. Even Jasper’s equanimity was shaken in the face of it.

And there was the chance that his brother was leaping in simply because he felt pressured. Their father was dying. Slowly, but he was dying. If this duke’s daughter was wrong for Jasper, he should be reined in. Though what qualified Reginald to judge or to do the reining was beyond him.

He said, “Too bad Crispin isn’t here. He can spot a third eye at fifty paces.” And Crispin had always been better at reading Jasper. He rubbed his jaw. “Can I get away without shaving?”

“No, you Slavic beast, you cannot.”

Unlike his fair-haired brothers, Reginald was dark. They never let him forget it.

He heard a pattering of footsteps, and the library door flew open, startling them both. Their mother stood in the doorway, a piece of paper in her hand. Her face was as white as the paper.

“Your father has had another fit.”

“My God,” Jasper said, paling also. Reginald could say nothing at all.

“I’m going to Chaumbers tonight.” Mother’s voice was tight.

Jasper said, “I’ll bring you.”

The journey would take hours. Seven hours in the dark. And they had to pack. No, not pack. Only ready the carriage and horses. The servants could send their things on. What if…oh, God. They weren’t prepared. He wasn’t prepared. Why hadn’t he talked to Father about…anything, but pretended everything was going to be fine?

“No, Jasper, no. You go to the ball. Reginald can come with me. For Heaven’s sake. You’ve already asked Lady Georgiana—”

“For a dance. Surely she’ll understand. And if she doesn’t, I wouldn’t want her.”

“Reginald will bring me.” Mother sounded steely. As if she wanted something to control. “We’ll send word back whether you need come. Or when.”

“Mother—”

“Don’t argue with her, Jasper.” He finally found his voice. Their mother didn’t need an argument. Especially when she was wrong.

Jasper turned, startled. Angry. He growled, “And I’m supposed to dance and laugh and woo while—”

“Yes,” Mother said, beginning to tremble. “Olivia says he was adamant we were not to be sent for. He doesn’t want us all rushing home as if, as if…”

Reginald stepped forward and put his arm around his mother’s shoulders. His brothers used to mock him for being his mother’s favorite. Perhaps he was. But Jasper was their father’s. And Crispin was an island unto himself.

Maybe Jasper understood that it was their mother who needed support just now, more than their father, because finally, he yielded. “Send word tomorrow. If I haven’t heard from you by nightfall, I’m coming anyway.”

Their mother nodded, leaning so heavily against Reginald’s shoulder that it frightened him. He guided her to the door. Would he have time to gather his books and notes? He’d have to grab quickly. And his valet would have to throw a few things into a bag. He looked back to see Jasper’s sagging face. He didn’t look like a man eager to go courting. How would this Lady Georgiana respond to so morose a wooing?

“Make sure you go to the ball. You have to give my regards to Plodgett.”

Jasper smiled weakly. “Ah, yes. At least there’s that.”