Page 4 of Yielding to Love

They used to make do with handshakes. He blamed Georgiana for the outbreak of hugging among the Taverston males. It had all seemed to begin with her. But it might rather have started with Father’s death.

Jasper ignored his words and embraced him. Then he stepped back, nose wrinkled. “You were not joking. What have you been rolling in?”

“Lizzie.” When Jasper tch’d, Crispin grinned.

Then Jasper stared at him a long moment, and he merely stared back. He would say that married life suited his brother, but Jasper would look the same—tall, broad shouldered, glowing with health, ungodly handsome, sartorially elegant—if he were to emerge from three years in a French prison.

Jasper swatted his shoulder. “You look well.”

That spoke volumes. He answered, “I feel well.” Enough said. “How is Vanessa?”

Jasper hesitated. “Fine. She is fine now.” He shook his head. “We’ve a lot to talk about. I just…well, suffice to say, please don’t jest about…about Arthur being in line for the earldom. Or my laggardness in that regard.”

Crispin squinted a question, then his knapsack slipped from his hand and hit the step. “What happened?”

“A miscarriage. Back in January. I couldn’t put word in a letter.”

“No. Of course not.” He swallowed hard. Vanessa had suffered so much. And bore it all so stoically. “But she is recovered?’

Jasper nodded slowly. “The thing is, I don’t know if you knew, but she lost Henry’s babe back at Corunna.”

Crispin swore under his breath. “I didn’t know.” He thought back to the army’s retreat from Spain. Vanessa had been following the drum. Her husband, a soldier under his command, had died in the fighting, and Crispin had helped Vanessa escape back to England. “She looked like hell in Corunna, but we all did.”

“The doctor says it’s nothing to be concerned about.”

“But, of course, you’re concerned.”

“No more than you must be.”

Crispin’s eyebrows rose. “Me?”

Jasper smiled crookedly. “You are still my heir.”

His stomach dipped before he recovered enough to smirk. “I have all faith in your procreative abilities.” He picked up his knapsack. “Thank you for the warning. I won’t say anything insensitive. Not about babies, at any rate.”

He started up the stairs again, with Jasper alongside. “So Olivia will be Mrs. Carroll, eh?”

Jasper groaned. “We need to discuss this, too.” The devil. Crispin prayed Jasper hadn’t made things difficult for Benjamin, taking his head-of-the-family role too seriously. He’d probably had twelve peers of the realm lined up to court their sister. Before he could say anything, Jasper touched his arm and said, head bent as if confessing to a priest, “I may have promised Mercury to Olivia.”

“What!” He started to laugh, but stopped, seeing his brother’s pained expression. He repeated more quietly, “What?”

“I’ll compensate you, naturally—”

Then he did laugh. “Shut up, Jasper. You can’t buy Mercury.” He shook his head. There was a story here, amusing because it had ended well. But even his elastic imagination could not come up with a scenario where Olivia marrying Benjamin would lead to Jasper promising her his horse. “Let me go wash and change my clothes. There is time enough to discuss whatever needs to be discussed.”

*

Crispin took two hot baths, during which he examined himself closely for crawling things. He was relieved to find only several bites, nothing living. When the second bath cooled to tepid, he toweled off and sent for Jasper’s valet. He needed a decent shave, and to steal a splash of Jasper’s cologne.

Tomorrow, he would avail himself of the Bond Street shops and buy his own. Jasper’s blend of sandalwood with a few light floral notes was pleasant, but Crispin had no wish to walk around smelling like his brother.

Spending a morning choosing a cologne. There was something absurd about civilian life.

While waiting for the valet, he opened his wardrobe. Tentatively. He kept a few clothes in London but nothing suitable for a ton wedding at St. James’s Church. His eye lit upon a dark blue jacket that he’d never seen before. He threw the door open wider. A flash of irritation was followed quickly by resignation. Then gratitude. Jasper.

Not only was there a new jacket, but also a crisp white linen shirt and a pair of superfine buff trousers. A note was pinned to the jacket.

Our tailor still had your measurements, but has agreed to see you tomorrow for any necessary alterations. If you choose. I’m not telling you what to wear to Livvy’s wedding. Or suggesting you should not be in uniform. I am simply glad to have you here and wanted to give you something.—J.