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“Oh, dear—” his mother said, “they’re cutting the wicks all wrong.”
Jasper followed her gaze to where several servants set candles into the chandelier that was now lowered to within reach. His mother strode briskly over to them and abandoning Jasper with his bride-to-be.
“My cousin, the Lady Selina Drake, has arrived just today,” Lady Leah said.
“I can’t wait to make her acquaintance,” Jasper replied politely, not actually meaning it. He was exhausted already.
“She’s a bit of a strange lady,” Leah replied, wrinkling her nose in distaste.
“What do you mean?”
“Everyone’s always making a fuss over her,” she said, clearly unhappy that her cousin had arrived. “She’s going to try to take all of the attention.”
He looked closely Lady Leah. He took her small hands in his and looked her in the eyes. He’d often thought, in a kind way, they were chocolate brown similar to a horse’s eyes. It was what made him sure that he could come to have healthy, lukewarm esteem for her. “It will be your day,” he assured her. “Not hers.” Alas, his feelings for her would never be passion. Or love.
“We’ll see,” she said doubtfully.
Jasper squinted as he studied her. Lady Leah was everything that the next Duchess of Gillingham should be. She was a proper, elegant, well-educated lady. She noticed his scrutiny, staring back at him, her chin raised.
“What is it?” she demanded.
“Are you happy, My Lady?” he asked gently.
Her eyes widened. “Of course, I am!” She looked around at the room, clearly wanting to change the subject. “You know, we could have invited a lot more people. Gillingham Manor is certainly large enough.”
Jasper cleared his throat. He’d requested that the engagement party be a small affair so that there would be fewer people to be a party to his agony: the fewer people, the better.
“Yes, well, more doesn’t mean merrier,” he replied.
“What? Of course, it does,” she said, frowning at him.
“No, it doesn’t.” He felt pained. He agreed to marry Lady Leah Bowles because it was the right thing to do, according to the aristocracy. As The Duke of Gillingham, it was his duty to marry an aristocratic lady and then produce an heir. Or, give up his Dukedom in favor of his younger brother, Reuben.
Then, he would have to follow Reuben’s orders. Something that Jasper would rather die than do.
“The fewer people to put on a face for, the better,” he told her in a low voice.
She blinked.
“What do you mean?” she asked, frowning.
“Does it not bother you that we aren’t in love?” he asked, finally being honest with her.After all, why not?What could it hurt? Maybe she’d agree, and they could call the farce off.
“No, it doesn’t,” she said, letting go of his hands. “No one marries for love.” She folded her arms.
“Some people do,” Jasper pointed out softly.
“Those are characters, in stories,” she pointed out. She kept her voice low, but she was angry.
“So it doesn’t matter to you,” he said, watching as she shook her head.
“Not at all. Let’s not fight,” she said, taking his arm. “Not today. This is a happy time.” She beamed at him. He nodded swallowing.
