Page 40 of To Wager with Love

“I could wait until I’m sure there’s no child,” she said, and though it was gently said the words struck at his heart. “It’s unlikely, you know. Some people try for years before they conceive.”

This was too reasonable and Jasper had gone far beyond reason. He moved on top of her, pushing her legs wide and fitting his body intimately against hers. “Then I’d best give myself a better chance, hadn’t I?” he growled.

Harriet gasped as he slid his arousal between her legs, but she made no complaint, lifting her hips towards his, putting her arms about him.

“Would you really do that to me?” she asked, gazing up at him. “Force a child on me to make me do as you want?”

Jasper closed his eyes and swallowed as shame washed over him. He shook his head. “No,” he admitted, daring to look at her. “Though I fear how far I would go. I can’t lose you, Harry. I love you,” he said, staring down at her. “And I think we could be happy. I know I’d do anything to make you happy.”

There was fear in her eyes, but there was want too, he was certain of it. She wanted to believe him, and that was more than he could have hoped for.

“Harriet.” He breathed her name against her neck as he pushed inside her body, pleasure unfurling through him as she gasped and held him tighter, welcoming him in. “Don’t refuse me, love, please. Say yes.”

“I… I can’t think when… Oh….”

“Harry?”

“I’ll think about it, Jasper, I promise. Just… later…. Give me a little time.”

It wasn’t a no, at least, and that was more than he’d had yesterday. He said nothing more. He could give her time, and during that time he’d make certain she’d never be able to look at another man, not when she wanted him so badly.

Chapter 12

My lord,

I am truly and deeply sorry for your loss and though I doubt you’ll believe me I don’t mean to cause you any further distress. However it makes no difference to me if Gordon Anderson is now your heir. I wouldn’t care if he were the next King of Scotland. I won’t marry him. You’ll not have any problem finding a girl who would leap at the chance to marry him now, so why not find one? Just not me!

― Excerpt of a letter from Miss Bonnie Campbell to The Right Honourable William Douglas, The Earl of Morven.

1st September 1814. Holbrooke House, Sussex.

Harriet thanked her maid and dismissed her, reaching for her spectacles. She had made it back to her room unseen, thanks to a detailed knowledge of all the hidden passages and hidey holes that ran through the vast building. Merrick had, as Jasper had suggested, not so much as blinked an eye at her being in his master’s chambers, and had treated her with all the respect due the future countess.

She gave a heavy sigh and got to her feet, staring out of the window. How lovely it would be to live in such a splendid place, and with Jasper as her husband. It was the embodiment of her every dream, and yet she wasn’t sure she was brave enough to reach for it. Last night, and this morning—she recalled with something of a blush—it had been so easy to be with him. She’d been so overwhelmed by how he made her feel that it had been on the tip of her tongue to just agree to anything he wanted, yet she feared deciding anything at such a time. Desire was no basis for a marriage, not when she was still so unsure of his motivation.

She could not pretend that she believed his declarations of love to be sincere. Not that she thought he was lying to her; he clearly believed it himself. Yet, Jasper was so damned stubborn, and she’d been refusing him for so long, that she could not help but suspect it was just a case of wanting what he couldn’t have. Surely, once his satisfaction at having won was over and done, he’d realise he’d married a dull little bluestocking, and not a very pretty one at that. She remembered again the lush beauty of his last mistress, Mrs Tate, and the comparison to Harriet’s own limited charms seemed mean indeed. He’d regret it in time, when he realised his wife would rather sit at home with her nose in a book than go out to whatever party or social event seemed to fill his calendar.

Wouldn’t it be better for her to marry Inigo and have done with it? It would save them both a great deal of heartache when Jasper awoke to the mistake he’d made. Harriet reached up and massaged her temples. Her head was pounding, though she didn’t think it was only her anxiety over the decision she faced. She felt hot and her throat was scratchy. No doubt she’d caught some ghastly cold and would soon have to face Jasper with the added indignity of a red nose and watery eyes. How revolting. She resolved to ask for some willow bark tea when she went down, and to eat a hearty breakfast. Perhaps she’d not succumb to it if she put it from her mind.

Harriet’s thoughts scattered as someone knocked at her bedroom door, and she opened it to find Minerva waiting for her.

“Hello, Harriet,” she said, and for just a moment Harry felt a surge of jealousy.

This was the kind of girl who ought to be the next Countess St Clair. She was lovely, with thick blonde hair and quite startling blue eyes. For a moment, Harriet pictured her with Jasper, and acknowledged what a handsome couple they would make. Jealousy tore through her, almost stealing her breath.

“Minerva,” she said, her tone rather frosty.

The girl hesitated at the unfriendly greeting and Harriet cursed herself for being so stupid and unkind.

“Forgive me,” she said, sighing. “I have a bit of a headache and it’s making me tetchy.”

“Oh, you poor thing,” Minerva said sympathetically. “Shall I have someone fetch you some willow bark tea?”

Harriet smiled and nodded, feeling worse than ever. “Yes, I’m sure that’s just the thing. That and some fresh air will do me the world of good. Are you ready to go down to breakfast? We’d best hurry if we don’t want to keep everyone waiting.”

“Oh, yes, I am, but… I was wondering if… if you might lend me a book, please?”

Harriet blinked at the girl, rather surprised. “Certainly, though… I don’t read a great many novel as a rule. At least, I don’t have any with me. I expect Matilda does, though, if—”