Good Earl Gone Bad (15 page)

“Hermione,” Jasper said, grasping her by the shoulders, “that man was suspicious the moment he stepped in here. Otherwise he wouldn't have come to pay you a call in the first place. He knows that three ladies called on Saintcrow this morning and he knows that I called on him. That's four possible suspects. And since I reported the murder he's likely to think I'm innocent.”

“And because we three were in disguise he'll think it more likely that we killed him?” Hermione asked, not liking the genuine worry in his eyes. “Is that it?”

“Precisely,” Jasper said with a nod. “And though he won't like to consider the notion that ladies might be capable of committing murder, he's not from our world. In the seedier parts of London mothers kill their babies. Prostitutes kill their customers. Women committing murder is not as uncommon as it is in our world. So he's already predisposed to consider you're capable of it.”

At his description of what happened outside Mayfair, Hermione shivered. She was all too ready to think that her own world—despite the unpleasantness her father's gambling brought into her life from time to time—was the same as everyone else's. She knew well enough that there were parts of London where people fought tooth and nail for every morsel of food or ray of light. But it had taken Jasper reminding her of that to recall that it was only thanks to divine providence that she lived in the comfort of Half-Moon Street.

“And I complained about having to retrench enough to let this house,” she said with a shake of her head. “What a fool I've been.”

But Jasper hugged her to him. “Don't say that. You are a remarkable lady. And just because you haven't experienced the horrors of life in Whitechapel doesn't mean you're a terrible person. You have dealt admirably with your father's excesses. And now you will deal with this. But I will admit that I think we should marry as quickly as possible now.”

“Because you think that if we marry, Mr. Rosewood will look elsewhere for the killer?” she asked, grateful for his strong arms around her.

“In part,” he said, resting his chin on her head. “And also because you let me put my hand up your skirt a little earlier.”

When she gasped in outrage, he kissed her. “There's my girl.”

“Beast,” she said, punching him lightly in the chest.

“And don't you forget it,” he said with a grin.

 

Eleven

Mindful of the multiple errands he would need to take care of himself before a wedding with Hermione could happen, Jasper chose to do the most difficult of those before word of the fateful card game made it to Grosvenor Square.

Unfortunately he was too late for that.

When he arrived at the Mainwaring town house after leaving Half-Moon Street, he'd only just handed his hat and coat to the butler when a screech sounded from somewhere on one of the upper floors.

Ah, he thought. Mama has heard, then.

“Her ladyship has been rather overset this morning, my lord,” said the butler, Greaves, in a vast understatement. “I believe she had a note earlier from your aunt Agatha.”

“Just so, Greaves,” said Jasper, squaring his shoulders. “Are my sisters at home, do you know?”

“I believe I heard them in conversation with her earlier, my lord,” the sober-faced retainer said. “Though I do not make it a habit to follow their movements, of course.”

“Of course, Greaves,” Jasper said, even as he headed up the thickly carpeted staircase.

It was just as well if his mother and sisters were together, for then he'd need only tell his story once. And, he thought with a mental roll of his eyes, he'd need only to deal with one long session of weeping.

Why did Hermione's tears seem infinitely preferable to those of his own blood relations? Perhaps because he'd come to realize that his mother and sisters used them as a means of controlling him rather than as a genuine expression of emotion.

He stepped into his mother's small sitting room to find his sisters huddled together on the sofa looking miserable in their post-tearful puffiness. His mother, on the other hand, sat bolt upright in the chair beside them, her pale face showing signs of earlier tears, but bearing a mulish set to her jaw that Jasper could not like.

“Good afternoon, ladies,” he said with more cheer than he felt, “I take it you have heard my good news.”

“How can you possibly call your betrothal to that … that hoyden good news, Jasper?” cried Evelina, the elder of his sisters at nineteen. “Lady Hermione Upperton is as unfashionable as any lady in the
ton.
Did you know that she has only recently gained admittance into a driving club? I expect next she will file down her teeth to make spitting tobacco juice easier!”

“You will speak of Lady Hermione with respect, Evelina, or I will send you to spend the rest of the season in the country where you can learn some manners,” he said sharply. He was willing to endure any sort of whining and insults hurled at his own head. But he would not stand to hear Hermione spoken of thusly. Her world had been turned upside down through no fault of her own and he was damned if he'd allow his own sisters to make it worse. “Do you understand?”

Unaccustomed to such harsh words from her normally indulgent older brother, Evelina's rosebud mouth formed a shocked O. She was too surprised, it seemed, even to cry.

“So I see you're taking her side over that of your own sister, Jasper,” his mother said with cold calm. “I must confess I find myself disappointed that a son of mine would behave so rashly. Especially given how much your father set store by family.”

“If my father set such great importance on family,” Jasper said sharply, “then he would have done better not to drink a bottle of wine before he took to the road, don't you think, Mama?”

Perhaps because of his earlier conversation with Hermione, the accident was fresh on his mind. And he'd been reminded of just how culpable the late earl had been in his own demise. He had loved his father, of course, but it was hardly the action of a man whose family's well-being was foremost on his mind to get himself killed by driving while intoxicated.

“So, that's how this will be, is it?” his mother asked, not even blinking at Jasper's slander of his father. She could hardly fault him for the words since he'd heard them often enough from her own mouth, after all.

“This can be as pleasant or as unpleasant as the three of you make it,” Jasper said, leaning his shoulders against the mantelpiece. “I will tell you that, as you have likely already heard, I engaged in a card game last evening with the Earl of Upperton in which his lordship offered a small property in Lincolnshire and the hand of his daughter, Lady Hermione, as his bet. Lord Upperton lost and I, as a gentleman, could not refuse his proffer. Thus, Lady Hermione and I are to be married by special license before the end of the week.”

“This will ruin any chances we might have to make a good match,” the younger of his sisters, Celeste, said. “I daresay we will all need to retire to the country to avoid the gossip. This season is a complete ruin.”

“If that is what you wish to do, of course,” Jasper said, inclining his head. “Then you are all three welcome to do so. I daresay Lady Hermione would prefer to settle in to the household without having a resentful trio of in-laws underfoot while she does so.”

“You would throw us out of our own home?” Lady Mainwaring asked, her lips tight with anger.

“Of course I'm not throwing you out,” he said in kinder tones than he felt. “You are all, of course, welcome to remain here. But I do think it best if you consider perhaps removing to a house of your own if you feel you will be unable to behave with civility to my bride. And if you do not make that choice, in the event that you are indeed uncivil, I will make it for you.”

“You never used to be so hard, Jasper,” Evelina complained. “I think you have become callous thanks to your friendship with the Duke of Trent. He might be a duke but it is not as if he was born to the title.”

“Since Trent and I have been acquainted since Eton I do not think that you can lay the blame for my so-called callous nature at his door,” Jasper responded with a raised brow. “And he might not have been born to the title, but I must say that I find his manners entirely more agreeable than your own have been today.”

“That is because my heart is breaking,” Evelina cried, raising her handkerchief to her mouth and fleeing the room.

“She was about to bring Viscount Fordham up to scratch,” Celeste said hotly. “She's convinced he will drop her acquaintance once he gets word of your scandalous behavior.”

Jasper just barely stopped himself from sighing aloud. “Since Fordham can hardly be said to hold a spotless reputation himself,” he said, “I do not think it likely he will run for the hills at the unusual circumstances of my betrothal. And if he does, then he is hardly the sort of fellow I should wish for Evelina to marry.”

“That's easy for you to say when you aren't the one who will have to listen to the other ladies of the
ton
laugh gleefully over poor Ev's broken heart,” Celeste retorted. She rose, shaking her head in disappointment, though whether it was over Fordham's hypothetical perfidy or Jasper's actual, he could not be sure.

“There is still time for you to flounce off, if you are so inclined, Mama,” Jasper said, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. Had he had the beginnings of a headache when he entered the room?

“Your sisters are right, you know,” Lady Mainwaring said with resignation. “No one will come near them this season now. This is what you are sacrificing with your foolishness.”

“Honor is not foolish, Mama,” he said without backing down. It would not do to show her the slightest bit of weakness for his mother was skilled at exploiting any bit of a dent in his armor. “I have given my word to Lady Hermione now and I will abide by it. I do regret the disappointment that has ensued for you and the girls, but it's not to be helped.”

“I only hope that you will not find yourself regretting your actions, Jasper,” she said with the air of one could not wait to say she'd told him so. “Marriage is a serious business and one that is best not undertaken lightly.”

“Yes, Mama,” he said, biting back a grin at her officiousness, “I have heard the marriage liturgy before. And I do not undertake this lightly. Lady Hermione and I have been somewhat acquainted through mutual friends. And I believe we will be able to make a good match, if not at first a conventional one.”

“You know your own heart best,” she said, at last sounding resigned. “Now, if you will be so kind as to take yourself off, I have a headache and I wish to have a lie-down.”

Watching as the last of his female relatives swept out of the room, Jasper couldn't help but feel relieved that the worst of it was over.

His mother and sisters might not be happy about his marriage, but at the very least they knew he would tolerate no disrespect for Hermione.

He had a sneaking suspicion, however, that Lady Hermione would be quite able to take care of herself if necessary.

Was it thoroughly wrong of him to anticipate seeing her rout the Mainwaring ladies at the first possible moment?

Perhaps, but he was willing to take his punishment for it.

*   *   *

Sometime later that afternoon, Hermione was staring at her closet in an attempt to determine whether any of her current wardrobe was worthy of being worn by the Countess of Mainwaring, when she heard a scratch on her door.

Ophelia poked her head round, and seeing Hermione was awake and alert, stepped in, shutting the door firmly behind her.

“I just thought I'd stop in to see if you'd learned anything more about Lord Saintcrow,” she said diffidently. But Hermione wasn't fooled.

“Mainwaring sent you, didn't he?”

Her friend colored. “Perhaps,” she said with a shrug. “I must admit I was more intrigued by the fact that he was the one who summoned me than the actual fact of the summons.”

She waited, then. One brow raised in an imitation of Leonora at her most inquisitive.

“When did you become so nosy?” Hermione asked without rancor. “I expect it from Leonora but you are supposed to be the prim and proper one!”

“Someone has to press you for information while she's indisposed,” Ophelia said, pursing her lips. “You are quite forthcoming about your plans for world domination, but anything having to do with gentlemen or feelings you lock away without giving anyone the key.”

“I'm not that bad,” Hermione said, gesturing her friend toward the conversation nook in the corner of her dressing room. “You make me sound like some sort of vault.”

“A vault to which I begin to suspect the Earl of Mainwaring has somehow got the key.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Do not make the mistake of thinking this is a love match, Ophelia. Leonora might be the poet but you've got the soul of a romantic lurking behind that practical exterior.”

“Aha!” There was no disguising the triumph in the other lady's shout. “So it is a match, then! I knew it. From the moment you first argued over the suitability of ladies in driving clubs, I knew there was something between you.”

“Do not be silly,” Hermione said with more affection than heat. “We are to be wed, but it's not through the fault of either of us.”

“What do you mean, ‘fault'?”

“Just that,” she said, pulling her stocking feet beneath her as she got comfortable on the settee. “My father had the temerity to gamble away my hand in marriage last night.”

Quickly, she explained what Mainwaring had told her earlier about his encounter with her father in the gambling hell. She made no mention of what had transpired between herself and Mainwaring that afternoon in the drawing room. Some things even her friends could not be privy to.