Page 38 of Counting on Love

Reginald sat.

“Well, what do you think of her?” He looked rather proud.

Reginald made himself shrug. “She’s pretty.”

Crispin caught back a snort.

“You don’t think she’s pretty?” Jasper said, incredulous.

“I laughed at Reg’s usual understatement. I will understate as well. Her manners are acceptable.”

Jasper looked blank, but Reginald laughed. Crispin had noticed how well she ignored his plate.

“What is this about, Jasper?” Crispin asked. “You don’t need our approval. You have Mother’s.”

Jasper was quiet for a moment. Then he said brusquely, “You’re right. I don’t. It looks to be less dreary tomorrow. I think I should give her a tour of the property. Save the house tour for the next time it rains. And I’ve invited the Willowsetts and Robert Leighton to come hunt with us the day after tomorrow, so long as it’s clear.”

Crispin nodded. Reginald did too, though it annoyed him that he would be left so little time for any of his work.

Jasper continued, “I think it’s best if everyone goes on the tour. I don’t mean Her Grace or Mother, of course. That’s a little too much chaperoning.”

Crispin shook his head. “I’m not riding tomorrow.”

“Six is a more comfortable party than five. There will be pairs. It will be easier for me to talk with Lady Georgiana one-on-one.”

“I understand, but I said I’m not riding tomorrow.”

Jasper’s voice hardened. “And I said I would like you to come.”

Crispin raised an eyebrow. Then he said in a low tone. “And I said I will not be riding.”

Reginald said, “Crispin has a boil on his arse.”

Crispin closed his eyes and let out a slow breath, almost as though he were counting.

Jasper flushed. “We will make do with a party of five. I hope you can join us for hunting the following day.”

Crispin turned, flung open the door, and stomped out, slamming it.

They were quiet for a moment. Then Jasper said, “Is he angry at you or at me?”

“Me, I suspect. I am angry at you.”

Jasper’s eyes went wide. “What did I do?”

Reginald stood. “Nothing.”

Nothing at all, except discover Lady Georgiana and claim her as a matter of course.

He left the study to see Crispin had not gone far. He was leaning against the opposite wall. Resigned to being scolded for peacekeeping—as well as the sin of alluding to any blotch on Crispin’s health—Reginald approached him.

“Are you waiting to plant me a facer?”

Crispin’s lip curled. “Let’s make a deal, shall we?” He waited for Reginald to nod, then said, “You keep my confidences and I’ll keep your secrets.”

Had his gawping been obvious? The trick with Crispin was never to acknowledge that he had the upper hand. Crispin often bluffed.

“I don’t have secrets. I’m not that interesting.”

“Then why are you wearing that guilty face? And sulking like you want to wish Jasper to the devil?”

Reginald tucked his thumbs into his waistband. And prevaricated. “Do you know that chair in the library? In the bay window?”

Crispin’s eyes lit. He might not know where Reginald was leading but was ready to follow. “The one that bucks you off if you forget and lean back?

“I would like to swap that chair for Father’s chair in the study.” He emphasized the word Father with a petulance that was only partly feigned.

“Ah.” He nodded, satisfied. “Jasper is sitting a little too comfortably?”

Reginald lowered his eyes and let himself look more guilt-ridden. Crispin snickered.

“Sentimental idiot. It’s just a chair. But I’ll meet you in the library at midnight, eh?”