Page 3 of Love and Other Disasters

“Poor Mrs. Radcliffe,” Stratford said solicitously to the governess. “Assaulted by my brother’s backside so early in the evening. You must be so traumatized by the ordeal. I shall fetch you a glass of sherry to cheer you up.”

Jasper caught his brother’s arm before he could rush off. “Have I ever told you that you talk too much?”

“Frequently,” Stratford answered, grinning stupidly. “It’s my most endearing quality.”

Jasper released his sibling’s arm with a fond laugh. He found it impossible to keep a bad mood around his younger brother, and Stratford likely knew that, too.

The governess cleared her throat. “Never fear, Lord Stratford. I will swiftly recover once your brother finds his misplaced manners,” she vowed, giving him a look that said, oh just get it over with. “Perhaps if he has a moment to gather his thoughts, he could compose one while you fetch me that drink you promised.”

Jasper scowled at the governess. Who was she to order his brother, a lord, away?

But Radcliffe ignored him and had her lips pressed together tightly again in the way she always seemed to. A pity she couldn’t find even Stratford amusing, because she was vastly improved in looks whenever she smiled. Jasper had seen her laugh once with his brother’s children. The transformation had been an utter shock. She had looked lovely and almost enticing for an entire minute. Yet carefree laughter was reserved only for her young charges.

Stratford mumbled something unintelligible and went off to fetch her the drink.

Jasper inclined his head to the governess. “Forgive my carelessness tonight, Mrs. Radcliffe. Perhaps you would be more comfortable, closer to the warmth of the fireplace. Perhaps I could fetch a blanket for your knees, too.”

Sophie was older than him by a few months. A fact he enjoyed dropping into their little skirmishes from time to time.

She ignored his suggestion and clasped her hands primly in her lap. “Having just escaped the heat, I’ve no desire to return to it. I assure you my old bones are perfectly comfortable here and you should think nothing about warming them. After all, I’m only a governess. I truly should be with the children every moment of my employment.”

“On that, we agree.”

“Yes, it has always been clear what you think of governesses, and me in particular,” she murmured, and then smothered a laugh as she turned her face away. “I’m sure you’ll find better company on the other side of the room.”

He thought so too, but Jasper stared at the woman until she slowly looked up at him again. The remnants of her amusement slowly dimmed from her eyes, and she pressed her lips together tightly again.

He hated that the damn woman could read his mind. Not for the first time did he find himself in a battle of wills as to who would look away first. Radcliffe was always rather determined to outlast him. It was further confirmation that the woman was a problem when Jasper was the one to blink first.

But she’d agreed with everything Jasper had been thinking and saying for months. A governess ought to be with her charges and not partaking of the splendor of the drawing room with her employer’s family. It was Nash who kept insisting Radcliffe must dine with them and not even the duke could persuade him otherwise.

When nothing witty or cutting occurred to him to say next, he resigned himself to not having gotten out the last word. Jasper turned on his heel and returned to his brothers. He made sure not to face the governess directly. He did not want to spend the last night they would all be together, reminded that the governess had gotten under his skin again.

Jasper addressed the duke. “Any news on our cousin’s whereabouts?”

“I can only assume you mean Cousin George?”

“Indeed.”

“No sight of him since he was routed from the London townhouse by us,” Amity said. “But of his wife, I’ve heard much that troubles me. Melody has left for the continent.”

Jasper grinned. He had no love for Melody Sweet, Cousin George’s terrible wife, either. “Good riddance!”

“She is said to be traveling with her elderly father, but of George, there is no word if he accompanied them,” Amity said, looking worried. “They had a terrible fight the night we retook possession of the London townhouse, and I fear a permanent separation has ensued.”

“I tell you again it was not our fault. The lies about his situation and ownership of your property were of your brother’s making,” Crawford murmured as he patted his wife’s hand. “He ought to have been honest with his wife about how desperately his finances depended on the charity of others. Namely, you and the late duke.” Crawford looked among them. “George is not in the usual places he’d haunt in London; of that I know for a fact. My associates, many of his former friends, have not seen hide nor hair of him anywhere. Their debts remain unsettled, too.”

“He’ll return, meaner than ever, no doubt,” Nash warned, grimacing at the prospect. “George will allow no one to feel themselves relieved of his company forever.”

“Our cousin is a recurring pestilence,” Stratford supplied cheerfully, joining the conversation. Stratford laughed and turned to his wife. “Should we care for a drink, my dear?”

“I thought you’d never suggest it,” Win answered sweetly and pulled her husband away.

“Jasper?”

Jasper shook his head. “I have enough.”

Stratford tripped after Win all the way to the rum barrel, where he poured two glasses, and handed over one to his wife with a grand flourish. Win downed the lot in one long gulp and then met her husband’s gaze, eyes flashing with a challenge. Stratford attempted to follow her example, but it was well known he wasn’t much fond of rum. Stratford choked it down eventually, but he spluttered afterward, and his face slowly turned red.