His Wicked Heart (39 page)

“Your betrothal? Is it imminent?”

Jasper returned his attention to the dance
floor.

“Aren’t you going to answer me?” Louisa
asked. “Goodness, your shoulder isn’t paining you, is it? Perhaps
you should return to Saxton House. I realize this is the last ball
of the summer, but there will be other opportunities to announce
your engagement.”

He kept his gaze focused on Twickersham’s
hands. “I’m not here to announce my engagement.”

Louisa followed his gaze. “Who are you
staring at?”

“Olivia. She shouldn’t be dancing with that
idiot, Twickersham. Aren’t you supposed to be chaperoning her?” His
question came out much sharper than he’d intended. He glanced at
his aunt.

Louisa’s eyes widened. “It’s just a dance,
Jasper.” She looked at him shrewdly, and he was unable to turn back
to watch Olivia. His aunt
knew
. She always saw what others
never bothered to look for.

“Why aren’t
you
dancing with her?” she
asked.

“I intend to.”

She grinned then. A face-splitting,
heart-warming, life-affirming grin—the kind that lit up an entire
ballroom and caused you to smile in return despite the fact that
some nitwit was dancing with the woman you loved.

Oh yes, he loved her.

“Excellent,” Louisa said. “Why don’t you get
some punch? I’m sure Olivia will be parched when she’s finished
with the set.”

Jasper hesitated. He preferred to stay and
supervise.

Louisa leaned close and whispered, “You can’t
stand there and scowl.”

She was, unfortunately, correct. And as luck
would have it, he caught sight of Philippa near the refreshment
table. He took himself off.

When he was nearly to the table, a large,
ham-faced gentleman with bushy brows stepped in his path. “You are
Lord Saxton?”

Was this man approaching him without an
introduction? Jasper made to push past him.

“I’m confident you’re Saxton.” He kept his
voice low. “Your aunt is Lady Merriweather.”

Jasper froze and stared at the man. “What do
you want?”

“My name is Clifton. I know your aunt’s
ward.” The statement was full of insinuation and arrogance. He
moved to the periphery of the ballroom.

Jasper clenched his teeth as he followed the
man—he had no other choice. His hands fisted, pulling on the seams
of his gloves. He pinned the man with a vicious glare when he
reached the edge of the room. “Make your point.”

Clifton’s dark eyes narrowed, making him look
like a snake slithering toward its dinner. “I’m prepared to reveal
her true identity if you don’t agree to my terms.”

“I won’t be extorted.”

“I don’t want money. I want her. Tomorrow.
Delivered to my townhouse. I will send the direction.”

Jasper nearly punched him then. He closed his
eyes briefly and tried to summon the cool-headed man he’d been
before he’d started fighting at the Black Horse and before Olivia
had come into his life. She’d thrice tempted him to behave in ways
he knew he shouldn’t, and now he wanted to tear this man’s arms
off. For her.

“I’m not giving you Olivia.”

“I tried convincing her to leave of her own
accord, but she didn’t. Now it’s up to you to give her over to
me.”

Jasper looked at him sharply. “What do you
mean you tried convincing her? You didn’t approach her, did you?”
He advanced on the man.

Clifton stood his ground, seemingly unaware
of Jasper’s broiling ire. “I sent a letter, but I doubt she
would’ve shared it with you.”

What letter
? She’d kept something else
from him? His anger mounted.

Clifton stepped closer, adopting an even more
hushed tone. “Your family won’t want the taint of her background
marring your name. I think you’ll ensure she’s at my house
tomorrow. I have a friend at the
Times
. I know they’d be
dead interested in this story…”

Jasper drove his fist into Clifton’s face.
Though he’d used his good arm, the quick movement sent a stab of
pain to his left shoulder.

The large man staggered backward with a
snarl. The people surrounding the refreshment table—including Lady
Philippa—turned to stare.

Clifton came toward him, his hand fisted.
Jasper was ready, despite the pain pulsing in his wound. The other
man hesitated.

“Aren’t you going to try and hit me?” Jasper
taunted. A touch on his arm drew his attention. Lady Philippa stood
at his side.

“Saxton, come away.”

It was all Jasper could do not to launch
himself at the bastard. “He offended me.”

“You can’t do this in a ballroom,” she
whispered urgently.

Of course, he couldn’t. But he could do it on
a dueling field. “Clifton, I’ll see you at dawn. My second will
call on you later this evening.”

Clifton’s color paled a bit, but he gave a
stiff nod. “I’ll send for my second at the
Times
.”

His meaning was clear. The secret of Olivia’s
background would be printed in the newspaper for all of London to
read and judge.

Jasper watched in mute fury as Clifton left
the ballroom. Lady Philippa’s touch reminded him of where he was.
The entire ballroom hadn’t come to a halt, but at least two dozen
people stood staring. He glanced at Philippa, whose eyes were calm.
“Please excuse me.”

She dropped her hand and nodded. “Will you be
all right?”

“Fine.” He brushed by her and made his way
past gaping ball-goers on his way to the nearest exit. He now owed
Lady Philippa a Goliath of an apology and would beg her forgiveness
tomorrow. But first he needed to find Sevrin to act as his
second.

He reached the corridor and was nearly to the
stairs when Holborn cut him off. “What the bloody hell was
that?”

“The man offended me.”

“Then you call him out, you don’t strike him
in public in the middle of a goddamned ball!”

“I did call him out.” Jasper pushed past the
duke and moved toward the stairs. “I need to find my second.”

“Good Christ, Saxton, what could he have
possibly done that would be worth a duel? I didn’t even recognize
him. Go back inside and smooth the damage with Lady Philippa.”

Jasper glared at him then made to step
forward again, but the duke grabbed his right—and thankfully
unwounded—arm. His fingers bit through Jasper’s clothing into his
bicep. “You’re not going anywhere. Get back in that ballroom and
dance with Lady Philippa. I’ve spoken to Coddington, and he’ll
announce your betrothal at midnight, if Herrick is amenable.”

“
I’m
not amenable. I’m leaving.”

“If you do, I’ll ensure your little harlot
doesn’t know a moment’s peace.”

Jasper stared at him. “How did you know?” His
encounters with Olivia should have been nearly impossible to
discover.

The duke’s grip tightened, and the bruising
pain reminded Jasper of his youth. “I know anything I please. Your
mother noted that waistcoat you wore to Vauxhall. She saw your
whore working on it at Benfield. Her Grace also saw you walk off
with her toward the Hermit’s Walk and disappear. Fortunately, Her
Grace did an excellent job covering up for your complete lack of
discretion.”

Jasper’s fingers itched to push Holborn down
the stairs. How dare he insult Olivia? “She’s not a whore.” Just a
liar who still didn’t trust him. Why hadn’t she told him about
Clifton’s letter?

“What is she, then? Your future countess,
like that worthless chit ten years ago? I protected you from your
foolish heart then, and I’ll do it now. Someone like her can never
make you happy. She’ll embarrass all of us, and you’ll grow to
resent her. Just as she’ll grow to resent you for putting her in an
impossible situation. You can’t expect her to entertain the
peerage?”

Jasper hated that the duke’s arguments
weren’t complete nonsense. He’d had the same thoughts about Olivia
himself. And knowing she still lied to him only exacerbated his
doubt. Weakly, he disputed Holborn’s reasoning. “You make
assumptions.”

Holborn squeezed his arm painfully. “Why
can’t you do this one thing? James would’ve married the right woman
years ago, but you’ve dragged your feet and now put this entire
family at risk of unparalleled scandal. Not even your wayward
sister stepped this far over the line. Damn it, Saxton.”

“Yes,
I’m
Saxton! Me, not James.”
Jasper swung his arm away, but Holborn wouldn’t let go.

The duke’s foot slipped on the top stair. His
grasp on Jasper loosened as gravity sucked at the lighter man.
Jasper leapt in front of him and grabbed the railing for stability.
His shoulder screamed in agonized protest. With his free hand,
Jasper gathered a fist full of Holborn’s coat and set him firmly
back on the floor. Jasper’s efforts lost him a few stairs, but he
stopped himself before he tumbled to the hall below. He lightly
rubbed his upper arm, where pain radiated down from his
shoulder.

Eyes wide, chest heaving, the duke stared at
him. “Don’t do this,” he croaked. “Please, I’m begging you.”

The duke was begging him? All Jasper had ever
wanted was this man’s approval. He could have it if only he’d marry
Philippa. But liar, schemer she may be, he couldn’t leave Olivia to
the fate of the Cliftons of the world.

“You’ll ensure Miss West’s background remains
secret. That man in the ballroom—his name is Clifton—claims to have
a friend at the
Times
. Right now he’s delivering the tale of
her past.”

The duke straightened his coat. “I’ll see to
it immediately.”

Jasper couldn’t believe he was making this
bargain, but it was the best he could do for Olivia. She could have
a happy life. “Let her stay with Louisa. Louisa will take her to
York. You need never see her.”

“Done.”

Jasper nodded. He couldn’t imagine announcing
a betrothal tonight. Not with Olivia watching. “I’ll finalize
things with Lady Philippa tomorrow. The banns will be read next
Sunday.”

The duke looked as though he wanted to argue,
but he pressed his lips together and nodded. “The duchess and I
will plan an engagement dinner for Saturday next.”

Jasper’s gut churned. He wanted nothing more
than to dive into a bottle of gin surrounded by the comforting
sounds of violence. It was too bad his wound would prevent him from
joining in.

OLIVIA HAD watched Jasper hit Clifton from
across the dance floor. The people around her were unaware of the
spectacle, but she’d been unable to keep her eyes from Jasper all
evening. As soon as Clifton had approached him, her heart had
seized. Had Clifton sent that note? What was he doing here, and why
was he talking to Jasper?

She feared she knew. And then when Jasper had
struck the man, it became obvious. Jasper had sworn to keep her
secrets safe, and he’d gone to extremes to do so.

Then Lady Philippa had intervened. Even from
this distance, her care and concern were evident. As was his
reaction. He’d backed down, and Clifton had walked away. It was all
Olivia had needed to see.

Olivia turned to Louisa who’d been deep in
conversation with Lady Addicock. “Excuse me, Louisa, I’ve a
terrible headache. Would you mind if we went home?”

Louisa’s forehead creased. “Of course,
dear.”

Lady Badby descended upon them in a flurry of
bright red ostrich feathers stabbed into her hair. “Did you see
Saxton nearly flatten that gentleman?”

Clifton was no gentleman, but Olivia remained
silent. Louisa’s eyes widened. She shot a questioning glance at
Olivia. It was an odd reaction and put Olivia further on edge.

“What happened?” Louisa asked.

“He hit a man over by the refreshment table.”
Louisa and Lady Addicock turned their attention in that direction.
“Oh, they’re gone now,” Lady Badby said with a wave of her hand.
“Lady Philippa seems to have smoothed the situation. Oh, she’ll
make Saxton a marvelous countess, provided her father doesn’t now
deny him.”

Louisa gave Lady Badby a frigid stare. “No
one will deny Saxton. I’m sure his reasons for striking that man
were sound.” Olivia agreed wholeheartedly.

“Let’s hope so, for he plans to meet him at
dawn. He’s gone to fetch his second.”

Olivia fought to maintain her composure, but
seemed to let something show. Louisa’s gaze narrowed briefly, but
then she turned back to Lady Badby. “I’m sure this is nothing but
baseless rumor, Augusta. And as a personal favor to me, I’d ask
that you refrain from repeating it.”

“But, I was standing rather close by. I
heard—”

Lady Addicock looped her arm through Lady
Badby’s. “Come, dear, let us go discuss the weather or something
else inane.” She steered Lady Badby away from a quite visibly
annoyed Louisa.

“Yes, let’s go, Olivia,” Louisa said, taking
her arm.

It took them several minutes until they could
navigate their way through the ballroom. From the conversation
surrounding them, it was apparent the story of Jasper’s altercation
and impending duel had spread through the ballroom like a midsummer
fire. However, by the time they reached the exit, they heard this:
“Holborn has denied the duel will take place. The man—an
unfortunate drunkard called Clifton—insulted Lady Philippa. Of
course, Saxton wouldn’t put up with that.”