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‘That explains why Freddie called yesterday evening—I wasn’t ready to see him. I chose to take comfort in that brandy instead.’ He winced again, clearly embarrassed. ‘Not my finest hour.’
‘Perhaps not but...’ the best course of action was to make him feel better ‘...apart from me, my coachman, your housekeeper and Prescott the palace footman—who you definitely need to remunerate for his timely assistance—nobody saw you in that state. So all’s well that ends well. For now at least.’ Her heart bled for all the trials and tribulations he had ahead.
‘Not quite.’ His dark brows furrowed with guilt. ‘I still thoroughly ruined your debut. Robbed you of that once-in-a-lifetime experience by selfishly forcing you into being my nursemaid as well as my rescuer.’
If ever guilt was misplaced! ‘You really didn’t ruin it. In truth, your predicament gave me the perfect excuse to escape one of the ghastliest evenings of my life.’
‘Ghastly?’ Those intuitive green eyes again searched hers. ‘That bad?’
Hattie pulled a face to disguise how vulnerable and exposed last night had made her feel. ‘Exactly as I predicted, it was so awful, I was resigned to hiding for the duration in the retiring room and was halfway there when I heard you in the hallway. Believe me, by then I was only too pleased to offer my full assistance in whichever way I could.’
‘What were you hiding from?’ Trust him to home in on that one pertinent and telling word.
‘Lord Boredom.’ Hattie huffed at that pathetic half-truth. ‘And the abject humiliation of being the only debutante present who wasn’t dancing the first waltz of the Season, as well as being the only lady left forgotten on the wallflower chairs.’ She smiled to cover how miserable that had been and how pathetic it sounded against what he had to be going through.
‘My lack of desire to return to that seat and the steady stream of press-ganged conversation partners my overprotective brother kept foisting my way may have influenced my decision to forget to ask Freddie to take you home as I should have, and to take on that onerous task myself. That it took two hours was the icing on the cake and saved me from the circling vultures like Lord Boredom or the pitying looks of all and sundry.’ A brutally honest summation of her motives which ignored the fact that she had also felt the need to see him home.
Jasper had been so lost, so sad and so vulnerable she couldn’t abandon him because she knew how that felt. And because he had held her hand and bared his soul and that had felt significant. ‘So you see, while I am not denying that I saved you from making a spectacle of yourself, Jasper, in your own, unintentional drunken way you also saved me from being one.’
‘Every cloud...’ He stared down at his toes, lost again. Or perhaps hideously uncomfortable in her presence.
‘Yes...indeed.’ Now what?
Hattie wanted to offer practical help. Ask how he was faring. What he was feeling. Be his shoulder to cry on because she suspected he needed one, but instead, as awkwardness descended like a veil between them, she waffled to fill the void. ‘One ghastly, humiliating ball down, only another fifteen or so to go this month. But the first of everything is always the most awful, isn’t it, so I am hopeful that by ball seven or eight I will have developed a more reliable tactic for surviving the ordeal than hiding in the retiring room...’
Oh, good heavens, stop, Hattie!
‘Unless you feel a charitable urge to take to the brandy again and give me another convenient excuse to escape.’ Now she was waffling like the wind because she had apparently lost the power to control her jaws. ‘If you do, then might I be so bold as to suggest this Friday might be a good night to imbibe as that is Lady Bulphan’s do, which I know for a fact Lord Boredom is attending. I know because he sent me a note to that effect this morning.’ Which had been the cause of much hilarity in the Fitzroy household until her overbearing and overprotective brother had spoiled the mood with his lecture. ‘It was buried among a limp bouquet of red tulips which Annie claims are a definitive declaration of his interest in me.’
‘Limp tulips are a declaration?’ Jasper wasn’t following and who could blame him when she was spewing out inane nonsense he couldn’t possibly care about given his current circumstances.
‘Crimson tulips are apparently a declaration of romantic intent.’ That they were limp was a whole different sort of insult. ‘Not that I needed any tulips to know that when he made a point of declaring that unsavoury interest to my cousin Kitty last night when all his attempts to locate me had failed. And be still my beating heart, he even told her I was a candidate with connections of such a high calibre he was prepared to overlook my unfortunate limp. As if I should be grateful for that...’
Stop! For the love of God, stop, Hattie!
‘As much as I would love nothing more than to rescue you from Lord Boredom—because heaven knows nobody deserves his attentions and I owe you that and more for rescuing me last night...’ Jasper managed the ghost of a smile within his frown. ‘If you don’t mind, I think I am done with the brandy. I am certainly done with the consequences. There is a blacksmith inside my head using my skull as his anvil and the mere thought of food is disagreeing with me. But I can still rescue you sober.’
Hattie wanted to groan aloud. Thanks to her nervous, verbal outpouring, he now clearly felt indebted to her, which was the last thing she wanted. ‘I wasn’t actually...um...suggesting you save me as I honestly don’t need saving, I was merely...um...’ Marvellous! One minute she couldn’t stop herself from talking and now she had no words.
‘What I mean is, I was trying to be entertaining rather than make you feel in any way beholden to me and now I am mortified that you clearly do feel beholden to me when I loathe that. Believe me, there will be more than enough press-ganged and beholden conversation partners foisted my way by my well-meaning brother, that I will be able to avoid both Lord Boredom and hiding in the retiring room.’ Her toes were curling so tightly inside her walking boots she was in grave danger of giving herself a leg cramp.
Thankfully, the housekeeper returned then. ‘Cake and biscuits as requested, my lord.’ Beside her, his daughter beamed proudly.
‘I chose the cake, Papa. Because chocolate is your favourite.’
Jasper baulked at the tiered chocolate and cream confection on the overloaded tray. ‘Splendid choice.’ Then he swallowed hard as the housekeeper deposited it directly in front of him on his desk. ‘Splendid.’ The mere sight of it seemed to turn him green.
Fearing such close proximity to food might be his undoing again, and glad to be off the cringeworthy topic of her depressing but sole ardent suitor and all her brother’s well-intentioned attempts at matchmaking, Hattie leapt to the rescue. ‘Perhaps it might be better if we had this in the drawing room?’ Where she hoped there might be a handy sideboard strategically placed a safe distance from the queasy master of the house’s chair. Taking control, but conscious her wonky gait would make her spill most of it if she attempted to carry the whole tray, she grabbed the offending cake stand and the plate of biscuits and whisked them out from under his nose. ‘Can you show me the way, Izzy?’
The little girl hugged her precious doll tighter before she nodded and tentatively took the lead. Hattie followed, and by the rattle of teacups, she could tell that the housekeeper wasn’t far behind.
Further down the hallway, Izzy opened the door to a light and airy room which had obviously been furnished with comfort in mind. Hattie had no idea what she had expected beyond a decidedly dark and masculine space, but it certainly wasn’t this. Two large pale green damask sofas took centre stage, flanking an attractive Persian rug, while the unfussy lace covering the bank of open windows billowed softly in the breeze.
Instead of the dark wood panelling favoured by her father and his male peers, it had been painted ivory and only ran a third up the walls from the skirting board. Above that was either silk or expensive wallpaper which resembled it in a lighter duck-egg shade than the upholstery. All the wood, from the polished parquet to the side tables, was in a subtle light oak, and apart from a plethora of lamps and one bold clock sat on the enormous cream fireplace, there was a distinct absence of the usual clutter of objets d’art which most of the ton favoured.
It was a modern space but a surprisingly homely one, and not at all what one would expect from such a gossiped-about libertine. Not that he seemed much of a libertine any longer despite his recent foray into the bottom of a brandy bottle.
‘It is a new house,’ said the housekeeper, as if she’d read Hattie’s mind while unpacking the tea tray on the sideboard. ‘His Lordship bought it last year before it was finished, so the interior was made to his exact specification. Most of the rooms are still a work in progress, but the majority of the downstairs is done. Almost all of upstairs is as spartan as a monastery still and there is no rushing him into changing that.’ As Jasper was yet to follow, no doubt because he was in the midst of trying to compose himself before facing the cake again, the older woman dropped her voice conspiratorially. ‘He likes things just so and isn’t one for hasty decisions, so I dare say all those empty bedchambers will remain barren for the foreseeable future.’
