Page 71 of Counting on Love

“Ballocks.” He shook his head. “The devil of it is, I think I’ve set this courtship back weeks. I’m going to have to walk on eggshells.”

“Again, Jasper, why the rush?” Crispin pressed. “You never—”

“And that’s the problem. I never. I acted as though I had all the time in the world. And now Father is dying.”

“Father is. But you are young and hale.”

“Did you not see Jeremy take that fall? My God. I thought he’d snapped his neck. That could be me.”

“You don’t ride like a bacon-brain.”

“My horse could step in a hole. I could fall down the stairs.”

“You could, but the odds are slim.”

“Crispin,” Jasper sounded impatient. “Who is my heir?”

Crispin’s face went slack. When he spoke again, his voice was weak. “I see.” Then he wrung out a wry smile and managed to inject a bit of his usual irony. “Well, then, it would be best if you were to acquire at least two sons before the year’s end. Because, in the event, I would immediately take a bullet and leave poor Reginald in charge.”

“You are both being absurd,” Reginald managed.

“Quite so,” Crispin agreed. “Jasper, you did not maul Georgiana in an effort to secure the succession.”

“I did not maul Georgiana full stop. I don’t believe I even kissed her. Her reflexes are faster than Gentleman Jack’s.”

Crispin laughed. “Good for her. Now, Jasper, be honest. Why are you going about this so ham-handedly? Could you not have waited…a month to court her back in London?”

“No, I could not. I didn’t want to risk her accepting someone else. I want her for my countess. She’s perfect.”

Reginald pressed his fists against his thighs. He couldn’t listen to this.

“Perfect as a countess?” Crispin pressed. “Or perfect as your wife?”

“Perfect full stop.”

“I can’t argue with you.” Crispin turned. “Reginald? Anything to say?”

God! He ground out, “You’ve made her your captive. She can’t accept anyone else.”

“Except she is not my captive. There is no set date for their departure. They might leave any day. And as yet, we have no firm understanding.”

“You have no understanding,” Crispin said. “I thought she was here as Olivia’s guest.”

Jasper stood and began to pace. “That was a flimsy pretext, and you know it. You and everyone else.” Then he returned to the desk, opened the top drawer, and pulled out a folder. He flipped it open to reveal a stack of letters. He picked up the first and closed the folder.

“From Hazard.” He handed it to Crispin. “Skip the hellos. It’s the second paragraph.”

Crispin glanced down, frowned, then read aloud:

‘You know, my dear friend, that I am not known to gamble excessively, but I am not morally opposed to the practice. If I can beat the odds in a wager, I’m sure you agree it would be foolish not to seek advantage where I can.’

“What is he going on about?” Reginald grumbled.

Crispin continued, “Here is the crux:

‘It is being said that the banns will be read before Christmas. Wagers at White’s are now running sixteen to one. If you would be so good to announce AFTER the holy day, I would be ever so grateful. Please respond quickly. If the odds go any higher, I will likely lay down a pony whether you reply or not. Keep that in mind. Give my love to Lady Georgiana.’”

“What a blackguard!”

“Not at all,” Jasper said. “It is simply his way of letting me know where things stand. Georgiana and I are the talk of the ton. It isn’t so much a matter of why am I rushing, it’s what are we waiting for? We are going to be betrothed. We are going to marry. Taking baby steps is…” He sniffed. “Well, but if that is what Georgiana wants, of course, I’ll step slowly.”

And, of course, Reginald would step away.