Chapter Seven
“Are we home?”
Jasper nodded to Claire, marveling at how natural the words had fallen from her lips. Home. But this was his home, a family property that had belonged to generations of Earls of Stafford. It was not her home, nor would it ever be. As eldest son and heir, he would someday inherit the property, together with the title. His twin brother Jason would always be welcomed, for it was a substantial mansion boasting numerous rooms, as well as fifteen bedchambers, but Jason would never have the right to call this dwelling his home.
It also would never be home to Claire Truscott, unless somehow she remained Lady Fairhurst, and one day became the Countess of Stafford.
The very idea jolted Jasper. Especially because it did not instantly feel so totally repugnant.
The carriage door swung open. A liveried footman pulled down the steps and offered his arm to Claire. She descended gracefully from the coach, and Jasper followed quickly on her heels.
He had not originally intended to ride back to the mansion with her. Restless and wanting to be alone with his thoughts, he had planned on placing Claire and the maid inside the coach, and then walking over to his club.
But Rebecca’s unexpected appearance had altered everything. After the incident on the street, spending time at the club held little appeal for Jasper, especially because the possibility that a fellow club member had witnessed the chance meeting was a very real fear. Women might be accused of relishing gossip and scandal, but Jasper knew that men enjoyed the activity equally.
So Lord Fairhurst had reluctantly climbed into the coach and endured a carriage ride fraught with silent tension. Now that he had finally arrived home, he wanted nothing more than to retreat to the comfort of his study and decide how to fix this latest mess. If it even was fixable.
Yet even that small pleasure was to be denied, for the moment he and Claire began climbing the interior staircase, the butler handed her an urgent message that had been delivered earlier.
She unfolded the note and read the apparently brief message. Her face paled, then tensed.
“Bad news?” Lord Fairhurst asked.
Claire glanced up. “Of a sort.”
“Is it from my brother?”
“No. The note is from my Great-Aunt Agnes. I told her she could call on me today.” Claire’s eyes filled with apprehension. “As you might remember, she has been most anxious to meet my new husband. In fact, she was expecting to be received by both of us this afternoon.”
Jasper did remember her many references to Great-Aunt Agnes yesterday afternoon, but because he had believed at the time that a practical joke was being played upon him, he had paid little attention to the particulars.
“If you care to receive any visitors, you may use the gold salon. Cook will be pleased to serve any refreshments you require. Just ask the butler to make the arrangements.”
“Will you be joining us?”
Jasper barely hesitated. “No. But do send Aunt Agnes my regrets.”
His tone was sharper than he intended. Yet, surprisingly, it did not seem to upset Claire. She was standing on the main staircase, one step above him, causing their heights to be nearly even. She was gazing at him and waiting, her eyes never leaving his face, as though she expected him to change his mind at any moment.
The gesture put Jasper’s back up. Just because she was in need of his help did not obligate him to come to her rescue. It was his twin brother, Jason, who had always been far better suited to the role of knight errant. Jasper usually kept a tighter leash of control on his impulsive actions.
The silence stretched taut, apparently along with Claire’s nerves. “Aunt Agnes will be very disappointed if you do not make an effort to meet her,” Claire finally said. She paled even more. “And highly suspicious.”
“That is hardly my problem.”
Claire licked her lips, her gaze flicking from Jasper’s eyes to her note, then back again. She, apparently, was not about to allow herself to be dismissed out of hand. “It could very well become your problem if Aunt Agnes catches wind of our rather unusual situation.”
Jasper raised his eyebrow, uncertain if she had just uttered a veiled threat. “Then I suggest you tell Aunt Agnes the truth. The sooner, the better.”
Claire appeared to smother a nervous grunt. “The moment Aunt Agnes knows the truth, the entire world will be privy to our secret.”
“Ask her to be discreet. For the sake of the family.”
“Father says asking Aunt Agnes to keep a secret is tantamount to taking out an ad in the newspaper,” Claire said, as she tucked the note into the pocket of her new gown. “I believe she truly is incapable.”
“Then I shall leave it to you to decide how best to cope with this delicate situation, since she is a member of your family,” Jasper said.
Claire’s shoulders rose in a gentle shrug. “Even if I were so inclined to share this confidence with my aunt, what would I tell her? I married Lord Fairhurst. Does that mean that you are my husband? Or is Jay?”
Jasper raised his fingers to the bridge of his nose and pressed hard. “I am paying one of the finest legal minds in the country a ridiculous sum of money to answer that very question. I promise the moment I know, I shall rush to share the results with Great-Aunt Agnes.”
Muttering a curse, Lord Fairhurst executed a bow, made an about-face, and retreated to the sanctuary of his study. He dutifully buried his nose in a variety of business correspondence for the next hour, but eventually admitted he was comprehending little and accomplishing even less.
The house was quiet. Apparently, his mother was still away from home and would most probably remain so until this evening. At least that would afford Claire the opportunity to greet her elderly relative in private, though if the old woman was the bona fide terror Claire indicated, that might not be the ideal situation.
He tried to dismiss it all from his mind. Yet try as he would, Jasper could not remove the picture of Claire standing on the staircase in her pretty new outfit, looking forlorn and utterly lost as he so ungallantly abandoned her.
She had not begged, or cried, or insisted that he help. She had used none of the usual feminine tricks; in truth, it seemed that she used no deception at all. She stated her case as forcefully as she could, and when he refused her request, she accepted it with quiet dignity. Yet Jasper had clearly seen that at his refusal, some of the light went out of her eyes.
Suspecting he would probably regret it, Lord Fairhurst nevertheless took a deep breath and left the privacy of his study, concluding that it was damn inconvenient to have a conscience. Claire was alone when he entered the gold salon, seated on his mother’s favorite settee, her hands in her lap and her eyes on her hands.
“Your guest has not yet arrived?” he asked.
With an air of distraction, Claire glanced briefly in his direction. “Aunt Agnes is always five minutes late. Never more, never less. She will therefore be here in precisely two minutes, so if you wish to avoid running into her, I suggest you leave immediately.”
Jasper gazed at Claire for several long moments. “My brother and I are very different men. We might be nearly identical physically, but we are hardly interchangeable.”
“No one knows that more than I, my lord,” she replied with a rueful grimace.
“Then how do you suggest I fool your aunt into believing that I am Jason?”
“You are willing to help me?” Claire asked.
Jasper tried to shut out the look of relief and surprise on her face. He was not doing this solely to aid her, but rather he was doing it to keep the circle of scandal from growing ever wider. Or so he told himself.
“I give you fair warning, Madame. I shall not lie to anyone for you.”
She lifted her chin and looked directly at him. “I would never ask such a thing,” Claire responded with indignity.
“Then what do you propose?”
“Given the circumstances, our only course is to tell the truth. However, we must do so with great care and selectively.”
“Lie by omission?”
A look of guilt flashed across her face. “Aunt Agnes knows that I have married Lord Fairhurst. And are you not Lord Fairhurst?”
“I am not the man you married,” Jasper said.
“That is not what I asked.”
Her voice was firm, but her eyes were troubled. It gave Jasper’s rigid sense of morality a boost discovering that she too was uncomfortable with this approach. But he knew it was the only sensible course and clearly the lesser of two evils.
“I shall introduce you as Lord Fairhurst,” Claire continued. “Aunt Agnes will assume the rest. We shall avoid any direct questions that would force either of us to lie about our relationship. Is that acceptable?”
Jasper nodded his head. “Since my brother is in part responsible for this mess, I shall consent to a brief meeting with your aunt under these terms.”
“Thank you.” She raised her hand as if to shake on the agreement, but lowered it before following through. “When Aunt Agnes is present, one seldom needs to speak very often. Though I should warn you that she will question you unmercifully on subjects of a delicate nature, such as the state of your finances and your views on political issues.”
He stared down at her. “I can handle myself.”
“I fear you might discover that you have met your match, my lord,” Claire answered. “Though advanced in years, Aunt Agnes has a keen eye and a sharp mind. We must avoid arousing her suspicions at all costs.” Her brow furrowed. “To that end, do you think you could try to be a little less stiff?”
“I beg your pardon?”
Claire responded in a softer tone. “I am a romantic, and everyone in my family knows and teases me about it. The story of my whirlwind courtship with Jay is a subject much discussed among the small society in our village. With each retelling it has grown until it has reached epic proportions. And believe me, Aunt Agnes has heard every detail, no matter how exaggerated. If you behave in your usual stiff manner, she will never believe that I willingly married you.”
She gave him a doubtful, sidelong glance that sent a shiver of indignity up Jasper’s spine. How dare she accuse him of being stodgy? He was tempered and controlled, always the perfect gentleman. Did she seriously expect him to act the smitten husband? In front of an audience?
“Precisely what level of intimacy do you require, Madame? Should we be locked in a passionate embrace when your aunt arrives, or do you suggest something more radical? Unbuttoned and disheveled clothing, along with heavy breathing and flushed skin, perhaps?”
His words painted a seductive, steamy scene, yet his tone would have made icicles shiver.
Claire’s head lowered. “I meant no insult. If you could merely refrain from glowering at me, that should do the trick.”
Her obvious remorse struck a cord of guilt. Jasper opened his mouth to apologize for his crude remark; then he noticed the slight movement of her shoulders. Good Lord, he’d made her cry! Feeling even greater guilt, he leaned forward in his seat. He was just about to extend his handkerchief to wipe away her tears when he caught the glimmering of her white teeth.
Bloody hell! She was not weeping, but rather trying to choke back her mirth. ’Twas only the sound of a discreet cough that saved her from a scathing tongue-lashing. Lord Fairhurst looked over her shoulder and saw his butler standing to one side of the open door.
“Mrs. Agnes Humphrey,” the servant announced in a serious tone.
Great-Aunt Agnes swept into the room, her eyes darting curiously about the elegantly appointed surroundings. She was short and round and dressed entirely in black. Though clearly a woman of advanced years, she had an obvious, robust energy. Her features were strong and prominent; even as a young girl she would have at most been labeled handsome. If he had encountered her on the street, Jasper realized he never would have believed she was related to Claire.
He rose automatically to his feet and straightened his shoulders; then he wondered if he should assume a more casual air.
“Aunt Agnes, how wonderful to see you.” Claire crossed the room and kissed her great-aunt on the cheek, and then turned to Jasper. “May I have the pleasure of presenting Lord Fairhurst?”
Great-Aunt Agnes acknowledged his bow of greeting with a short huff; then she lifted her chin and looked down her nose at him as if he were a nasty character. “I have been waiting a long time to meet you, young man.”
“I, too, have heard a great deal about you, Ma’am,” Jasper replied, keeping his tone sober and polite.
At Claire’s urging, Great-Aunt Agnes took a seat. Jasper, who remained standing, raised one arm to rest on the mantelpiece above his head and assessed the situation.
With her black skirts billowing about her and her gaze fixed firmly on his face, Jasper quickly concluded that Claire had not exaggerated. Great-Aunt Agnes was a formidable opponent. She seemed to possess in abundance the gall shared by many elderly individuals who believed their advanced years gave them the right to say anything they wanted. A few flattering words and good manners were not going to be enough to make a favorable impression.
Yet Jasper was not so easily discouraged. With almost grim resignation, he set himself to be totally charming. He asked about her journey, the weather, and a favorite subject of all elderly women he had ever met, her health.
Great-Aunt Agnes would have none of it. She grilled him like a freshly caught salmon and did not even have the decency to look shamefaced about it. Instead, she glared at him as if she had bestowed some great gift upon his person by asking him so many pointed questions.
“I certainly hope that you will prove yourself to be a gentleman worthy of my great-niece’s hand,” Great-Aunt Agnes bristled. “I must say, I am not impressed with how you have conducted yourself thus far, though I am willing to give you an opportunity to redeem yourself.”
Jasper’s lip twitched. Her words expressed the exact sentiments he would have conveyed to his brother, if given the chance. He eyed his foe with a new respect; then realizing that he and Great-Aunt Agnes shared such a similar thought pattern aroused Lord Fairhurst’s sense of the ridiculous. He could not resist answering, “Claire is indeed a rare treasure. I promise I shall endeavor to do better in the future.”
Claire’s brow rose at his pronouncement. She reached out and hastily pulled the bell rope; then she instructed the answering footman that they were ready for refreshments.
The tea tray was brought in, and they all conversed politely on inane topics in front of the servants. For once Lord Fairhurst regretted that his staff was so efficient, for he knew the moment they withdrew the inquisition would begin anew.
“I believe a husband and wife should live together, Lord Fairhurst,” Great-Aunt Agnes insisted the moment the servants departed.
Jasper regarded her with a faint smile. “That is often the usual arrangement.”
“And will that be your arrangement?”
“We shall see,” Claire interjected. She lifted the tea tray and swung it toward her great-aunt. “Please try a scone. Cook makes them with dark currants for extra flavor. They are simply delicious.”
Great-Aunt Agnes accepted the treat her great-niece pressed on her, but left it untouched on her plate. Her gaze once again roamed over Lord Fairhurst. “You must tell me why you had to travel all the way to Wiltshire to find a bride. Were none of the London misses to your liking, my lord?”
Jasper stiffened. Was it possible that she had heard some of the gossip about his upcoming betrothal to Rebecca? Great-Aunt Agnes did not travel in the same circle of society, but unsavory tales had a nasty way of finding their way to all sorts of ears.
He regarded the older woman’s shrewd expression. No, if she had heard even a whiff of scandal, she would have confronted him with it the moment she arrived.
“I did not travel to Wiltshire to seek a bride, but came away with one nevertheless.” He turned and gave Claire a smoldering look. “I suppose one could say it was out of my control.”
“Ah, he is a romantic!” Great-Aunt Agnes declared. She clasped her hands together in delight and smiled broadly.
Claire laughed a little uncertainly. Lord Fairhurst turned his gaze to her. She looked steadily back at him, her lips tight, her eyebrows slightly raised, as if she had no understanding of what he was doing.
Jasper smiled, deciding this visit was starting to become amusing.
“Well, your attitude and affection for my niece renews my hope, young man.” Her tone had softened almost imperceptibly. “Though I was never blessed with any of my own, I’d not be adverse to holding Claire’s child in my arms at least once before I die.”
Claire passed one hand over her face and turned bright red. “Aunt Agnes, do you like my new dress? I went shopping with His Lordship’s mother and sister this afternoon, and they both insisted it was perfect for me.”
“The pattern is rather bold for your coloring,” Great-Aunt Agnes replied, barely glancing at her niece. “Though it is a flattering style.”
“I like it,” Jasper interjected.
“Do you?” Great-Aunt Agnes darted him a sly glance. “And what about children, Lord Fairhurst? Do you like them, too?”
“Aunt Agnes, please.”
The older woman shrugged innocently. “I am merely saying that I want a few great-nieces and-nephews to comfort me in my old age.”
“There are many things we all want, Aunt. Alas, life is not always so accommodating, and we do not always get what we wish.” Claire patted her elderly relative’s hand affectionately. “Or deserve.”
After a moment’s hesitation, Great-Aunt Agnes nodded her head in solemn agreement. Jasper was impressed. Claire had managed to put Great-Aunt Agnes in her place without sounding like a spiteful child retaliating for an insult. The tide of conversation was now successfully turned, and Claire was in charge. For the rest of the visit, Great-Aunt Agnes allowed herself to be led away from her preferred topic—him—and discussed the state of other relatives’ lives. Since he knew none of the individuals they talked about, it was only necessary for him to look mildly interested and nod occasionally.
As Great-Aunt Agnes prattled on, Jasper let his mind drift. He really did owe the old biddy a debt of gratitude. She had unknowingly prevented him from committing the crime of bigamy, which would have created a scandal far worse than the one that was brewing.
If not for her interfering ways and bullying attitude, Claire would never have come to London, and Jasper would not have learned about his brother’s marriage. Or rather his marriage, for more and more it seemed possible that Jasper could be the bridegroom.
Finally, the visit came to an end. After a hug for her great-niece and a nod in Jasper’s direction, Great-Aunt Agnes left the same way she came, with her nose in the air and a regal swish of her skirts.
“Well, that was not too bad,” he ventured.
“Compared to what?” Claire asked dryly. “The Spanish Inquisition?”
Jasper sniffed. “I suppose she can be a bit overbearing.”
“Yes, a bit.” A small smile appeared at the corners of Claire’s mouth.
“I think she liked me,” Jasper said.
That remark earned him an amused glance from Claire. “You were quite charming and exceptionally patient.” She looked archly at him. “Thank you.”
“Only quite charming?” he pressed.
“Remarkably charming,” she replied. “And that is the extent of the compliments you will be receiving from me, my lord.”
Jasper joined her in a small laugh. The mild annoyance he had early felt toward her was gone, replaced by a strange, almost desperate tenderness. Her face was close to his, and Jasper became very much aware of her warmth and femininity. He decided to throw her off balance.
“You know, I missed your wedding. As it stands, I might very well have been the groom.” He reached out and took one of her hands in his. “I think it only fair that I kiss the bride.”
Such a declaration would normally draw a blistering set down, yet no words of protest were uttered. Encouraged, Jasper lowered his head and touched his lips to hers—soft, warm, and featherlight. He knew often the lightest touch could give the greatest pleasure.
A tingling sensation began at the point of contact and quickly spread throughout his body. He tasted her lips and inhaled her essence. She had a spicy, sensual scent he could not ignore. She sighed against his mouth and he pulled back a fraction. Then, because they were tempting him beyond measure, he brazenly licked her closed lips.
At the same time, his hands reached out and touched her face, the fingertips running over her delicate eyebrows and soft cheeks. Pulling back, he rubbed his nose lightly across hers; then he pressed his lips more firmly, deliberately enticing her, coaxing her to open her mouth so that his tongue could slip inside and mate with hers.
He felt her tremble against his body and he molded her curves closer to his hardness. Raw sensation burst to life within him. Her mouth was a delight of sweetness—wild, wet, and hungry. Her tongue dueled with his, eager to participate. Jasper slid his hand along the base of her neck and cradled her head, holding her in place to receive more of his attention.
The heat intensified. He tried not to let it take control, but the feel and taste of her fed his desires. Pleasure burned throughout his body; blood was pounding through his veins in a hot, demanding rhythm.
In this brief, unguarded moment, Jasper caught a glimpse of the passion she offered, the passion she was capable of igniting and experiencing. And in that instant he was awoken to the truth. He wanted this kiss to become something more.
Yet deep inside, some small shred of sanity remained. He knew he was doing something unthinkable. With great reluctance, Jasper lifted his head. She blinked dazedly up at him and swayed. He caught her shoulders to steady her. She drew in a sharp breath and glanced around. Almost by instinct, she placed her hands against his chest, though she did not push him away.
Claire half smiled. “I think that was most unwise.”
Jasper knew she was right. It was perhaps one of the more inappropriate actions of his life, kissing his brother’s woman. Yet for once his conscience was not concerned about propriety. Rather, his male vanity was pricked at her reaction.
“Was is truly so unpleasant?”
She shivered. “No. It was actually rather spectacular.”
Then, with a mysterious smile, she turned and walked away. Jasper gazed at her departing back with narrowed eyes and tried to untangle his motives. Why had he kissed her? Was it merely payback for her early remark about him being stodgy? Or was it some sort of twisted revenge against his brother for placing him in this untenable position?
Or, most disturbing of all, was he losing a bit of his famous control and indulging in the passion Claire so effortlessly inspired?
Claire could not say, with any degree of certainty, why she allowed him to kiss her. She was normally a very steady person, yet it seemed that whenever she was in Lord Fairhurst’s company, she felt the urge to do something utterly mad.
It would have been wonderful to say that it was he who initiated everything, that it was he who was wholly responsible for the kiss, but Claire was honest enough to admit she shared equally in the blame, for he had given her ample opportunity to say no. And the thoughts running through her mind had been screaming yes!
She had not reacted physically to any man since Henry. On the surface, it seemed that Lord Fairhurst would be the last person with whom she would develop a passion. He was rigid and strict, stuffy, and usually disapproving of her. Yet she always seemed to react to his nearness with a heightened awareness of her female soul and a slight shortness of breath.
Claire pondered this oddity as she walked up the stairs to her chamber. Once in her room, she went to the windows and pushed back the velvet drapes. The sun was beginning to set. Soon the garden would be bathed in the eerie light of dusk, the tight buds waiting for the warmth of the morning sun to bring forth their full, rich blossoms.
The garden held the promise of spring, the hint of beauty yet to come. It seemed a fitting metaphor to Claire’s growing feelings for Lord Fairhurst.
The thought depressed her. The heavy push of emotions lodged in her breast were a testament to the attraction she had felt toward Jasper from the start. It made no real sense, but feelings of this sort never did.
She looked out at the view of the garden and drew in a deep breath. She had no right to these emotions. Lord Fairhurst belonged to another, as did she. Her relationship with Jay was not of a romantic nature, nor would it ever be, but that was the bargain she had struck.
That was the bargain she would keep.
At least now she had a memory. It had been a very long time, indeed, since a man had pressed his lips to hers. Jay might be considered the rake of the family, but the kisses she shared with Jasper informed Claire that Lord Fairhurst knew how to satisfy a woman.
The very idea left Claire feeling weak-kneed. Resolutely, she vanquished the thought, and images, from her mind. She spent the remainder of the evening in her room, deciding it would be better to stay in her chamber than to sit silently at dinner. Besides, she was schooling herself to become accustomed to the aloneness. It was not an altogether pleasant evening, nor was it horrible. It was what it was—the reality of her future.
Occasionally, when she could not control her thoughts, Claire would again remember the fiery embrace of the afternoon. But close on the heels of delight was the constant warning. I must not kiss this man again. He is not mine, nor will he ever be. To follow that path will only lead me to heartbreak.
Unfortunately, what the mind knows cannot be dictated to the heart. As she feared, Claire stayed awake half the night, and when she at last drifted off to sleep, her dreams were filled with the memory of seductive kisses and hard, lean, male strength.