Chapter Twenty

Winning His Woman

Jasper sat in the breakfast room at Crisdon’s townhome. His brother, Ewan sat nearby, studying the paper, smirking with the countess at the announcements section.

“Hartwell,” the countess said. “Your curious friend will be married tomorrow.”

“Yes. December eighteenth.” Exactly four awful weeks since he’d kissed his Butterfly. Jasper’s gaze couldn’t lift from the words, the forthcoming marriage of Frederica Burghley and Reverend Frank Pregrine. It was in the paper for all the world and a thief to see.

The notes the fiend had left in her jewel box reeked of insanity and danger. The thief wanted her to be his possession. Perhaps some wholesome version of a courtesan, like her mother. Jasper closed his eyes for a moment. He’d given up trying to see Frederica. She didn’t want him, and he wasn’t going to beg. But he should’ve said something so that the marriage announcement could’ve remained quiet.

Tapping the table, he swigged his lifeless chamomile tea. He’d have to warn the vicar to take precautions, but that would mean he’d have to stomach sitting in St. George’s tomorrow, watching Frederica wed. How could Jasper endure his Butterfly flying away?

“Ewan, dear,” the countess said, “so glad you’ve come to spend the morning with your old mother.”

“I had some business in town. I thought I’d stop by and see you, the old man, and where my brother has hidden himself these past four weeks.”

“Very droll, sir.” Jasper folded up the paper. “The countess is always generous in her hospitality. Tradenwood is too full of silks and the goings-on for Miss Burghley’s impending nuptials. I thought it best to stay out of the way.”

“You’re a dear, Hartwell,” Lady Crisdon said. “You could visit more, Ewan.”

“Hartwell is a dear.” Ewan offered a smirk before he piled more jam on his toast. “Will the girls come back with you tonight? The Fitzwilliam-Cecil Christmas celebrations are beginning. My wife and Miss Burghley and Philip have set out the decorations. Silver and—”

“Silver and gold ribbons tossed about without care.” Jasper pictured Frederica fixing fir branches and candles, and, of course, bows of silver and gold about Tradenwood. That had been last Christmas, when he was just beginning to know her. “Yes, it will be a sight.”

The countess’s crystal blue eyes lowered. “The girls could stay here for Christmas, even until the New Year. The older two are still under the weather.”

“Lady Crisdon, we have already discussed this,” Jasper said, trying to be as kind as possible. “The girls will be with their lonely father at Grandbole. You and the earl are welcome.”

She looked over to Ewan who was still stuffing his mouth. His greedy brother’s appetite for sweets rivaled the person he couldn’t stop thinking of, the woman who should be thinking of him, not some short pianoforte-hating vicar.

“Hartwell, I think you should try harder to convince my mother to come to Grandbole for Christmas. You might even lead her down the hill to see how my household is doing.”

A look crossed into Lady Crisdon’s eyes. Something hardened her light features. “There are so many engagements in Town we’ve already agreed to attend. Maybe next year.”

Ewan nodded. His brother had become very good at accepting his mother’s stubbornness.

Maybe being stubborn was a woman’s prerogative.

“Let me go see about your father. These winter illnesses take such a toll. He’s sick again.” Lady Crisdon stood up, leaned over, and kissed Ewan’s brow. She waved them back into their seats then smiled at Jasper and left the room.

Just like when they were younger, Ewan wiped his forehead with his sleeve. His scarred lungs released a long, hard sigh. “Neither one of them will change—the earl or Mother. We have a new baby to come, Jasper. That should be a new beginning.”

“I’m sorry, Ewan. Perhaps after the baby boy is born, they’ll think differently.”

“Jasper, when will you think differently?”

“What?”

His brother swirled the spoon in the jam. “I’ve seen how happy you are when Frederica Burghley is about.”

“She wants to marry a vicar. It’s in the paper. It must be true. And that’s not what has upset me. Templeton, the duke’s butler, provided me with a list of names of the visitors to Downing. I had hoped to catch the man threatening Miss Burghley, but the lying barrister Smythen is on the list. Is he the one? Did he slip her jewelry box back into Downing?”

Ewan made a grousing tsk with teeth. “Distractions are good for others. Not me. I know you are besotted with Miss Burghley. Admit it.”

There was no fighting the truth or the pain its discovery had caused. “Yes. That’s Miss Burghley’s doing, being so blasted unforgettable. Do you know Father and the duke actually discussed me taking her as a mistress?”

“Crisdon? City living has modernized his thinking. How democratic. From what Theodosia says, the duke’s affair with Miss Burghley’s mother lasted twenty years. He set her up in a residence. Took care of her handsomely.”

Jasper pushed the newspaper away. “She was his exclusive woman on demand. I think his offering a pittance.”

“I suppose that was all he could give, Jasper, given his position and hers.”

“Ewan, are you trying to justify such an arrangement? I asked Miss Burghley to marry me. She said no.”

Ewan offered an understanding smile. “It’s probably for the best. Father and mother will blame me for corrupting you. You don’t want to explain your cavorting.”

“Playwright, don’t mention cavorting, dalliances, mistresses, cows, or seed. I did get Crisdon to understand.”

“Understand what?”

“That I might want to marry Miss Burghley. At first, her illegitimacy weighed on my mind. Even her race, given what you have endured, especially with our father. But that was before I knew her, before she’d affected my every thought. The fact that she is the love child of a longstanding singular affair makes her far more interesting. Crisdon knows she makes me happy. But she re-fused me.”

Ewan jerked back in his chair, almost tipping over. “I know. Turned you down cold like the Yuletide air and sent you off with yours and Maria’s song. I couldn’t write a better rejection.”

“I’m so happy my life is giving you material.” He put his boot on the tilted leg of Ewan’s chair. “Hope you don’t fall over.”

Ewan grasped the table. “Why would a woman in love do that?”

Jasper’s head exploded. “No woman in love would. I told you, she refused me.”

“I’m not supposed to break a confidence, but you are my brother, though she is Theo’s friend. My friend, too.”

Jasper gave the chair a shove. “No more games. Save the jokes for tomorrow when I need them.”

“Someone fears for you and my nieces. Someone thinks it’s better to move far away so that all her friends will be safe.”

“I know she’s scared. Doesn’t she know I’d protect her?”

“Apparently not. Maybe that’s why a woman in love, in love with you, turned you down. Unless, of course, you delivered a horrible direct address for a proposal.”

“I…” Jasper rubbed his neck, perspiring. “I told her that I compromised her and that it was only right that she marry me.”

“You vain buffoon.” Ewan shook his head. “You told Frederica Burghley that the only reason you wanted to marry her was because you felt you had to?”

Jasper didn’t respond. He hadn’t declared himself. He’d practically given her an order to marry him. And Frederica hated orders. “This has to be fixable. Fixable before she marries tomorrow.”

“Have you tried begging? I was six years too late in doing what was right. You’ve a day. That may require some serious groveling.”

“Yes, begging is good, and I’ve vacillated for so long. I let her down. She loves me? You’re sure?”

“Yes. Wear your thick knee breeches. You’ll need a great deal of groveling for that one.”

Jasper stuffed Templeton’s list back into his pocket. Keep Frederica, then catch her thief.

“I need to do something bigger than begging. Something bigger, over the top, that will show her how much she means to me. Miss Burghley has studied so much about me, my children, the duke, everyone she cares for. The minx is always collecting details on what makes others happy. Perhaps her Errand Guardian should do the same. I’m going to need help gaining an audience with Miss Burghley prior to her leaving Tradenwood to marry the vicar. Can I count on you?”

Ewan chuckled and scooped up the paper. “You know you can. Mrs. Bexeley is in Town until late tonight. She can help, too. Godspeed.”

“Take the girls back to Grandbole for me. I have a great deal to do. Be ready to help when I get back.”

“Remember begging is not weakness. It’s a cure-all.”

Jasper headed for the entry to collect his things. A hundred different notions about Frederica Burghley were in his head. He had to convince her to trust him one more time, for as long as they both shall live.

…

Frederica looked in the mirror at her reflection. Today was her wedding day, her Yuletide wedding, December the eighteenth…and she felt horrible. Though she loved the silver and white gown embroidered with pearl and jade leaves at the hem and the sleeves, her eyes drifted to the note on the table. The duke would meet her at St. George’s. No, well wishes or a fatherly talk before the wedding.

“What do you think?” Ester asked as she straightened the silver netting at her waist.

“It’s a dream. Your design is beautiful.”

“Frederica, I’ve never seen a sadder bride, except for myself, but that wedding ended up with a happy-ever-after.” Her bashful friend still blushed at the power of the love she’d found.

Taking a breath, hoping to quiet the storm in her stomach, Frederica pulled at the intricate trim at the cuff of her short, puffy sleeve. “Merely nerves.”

She spun in front of the long looking glass. The silk possessed a translucent quality that twinkled, reflecting the candlelight. She should feel like a princess, a chosen princess as she walked down the aisle of St. George’s. “You are so skilled, Ester.”

“Theodosia told me to bring you this.” Ester put an eggplant-colored velvet pouch in Frederica’s palm. “The doctor told her to rest today. I think she’s upset about you and Lord Hartwell. She’s—”

“Theodosia needs to rest. That baby will be here sooner than the New Year. Lord Hartwell was right.” She swallowed. “I think him right about many things.”

Ester reached up and touched Frederica’s cheek. She wiped a tear that had started to form. “Frederica, you’re not happy. You don’t have to marry the vicar.”

“It’s dust, Ester. Just dust.” She turned fast toward the mirror, hoping the rushing air would dry her wet eyes. “And the Duke of Simone’s daughter will marry the honorable Mr. Pregrine today. I gain an honorable name, and if I can convince the vicar to do charity work for homeless girls, that will bring me to Town often.”

Frederica opened up the pouch, the scent of lavender arose as she scooped out filigreed silver pins, each with a watercolor pearl at the head. “Martica, help Mrs. Bexeley place these in my chignon.”

The young maid looked teary-eyed. “I’ll miss you, ma’am.”

“Mrs. Fitzwilliam-Cecil will be a good employer. I’m not sure of my new household. My husband might not…”

Martica frowned but took the silver pins one-by-one and began to secure Frederica’s tresses. “I understand, ma’am. You’ve done more than enough.”

Had Frederica done enough?

She hadn’t taught Martica all the things she needed to know to excel in her position. Would the vicar support her ideas for charity? And how long would she have to wait to help those in London—a few months? Never?

“There you go, ma’am. You look splendid.” The girl started to cry and fled the room.

Frederica started after her, but Ester stepped in her path.

“You’re marrying the wrong man. The vicar won’t understand your heart for girls like Martica. And how I am going to deal with you so far away? I already miss visiting you at Downing.”

Frederica turned and gave her friend the biggest hug. “Friends find ways. We’ll write letters. We’ll make plans to holiday together.”

“Friends also speak the truth. You want to be a Yuletide bride, but you’re a bride for one day. A marriage is for so much longer. You won’t be happy.”

Ester was right. And so was every butterfly twisting in her gut. “But things are already underway. My father’s waiting at the church. I’m in this gown.”

“You call yourself one of the lucky ones. How can you gamble away your luck when your heart is not in this marriage?”

Frederica moved to the window and opened the curtains and let the gray light of the snow in. The powder seemed fresh and new. “There’s a fiend out there who’s tormenting me. If I go away, you’ll all be safe. I couldn’t bear it if I was the cause of any of you being hurt.”

Ester ran to her put her hand on Frederica’s arms. “We love you, Frederica. We’ll protect you. This man shall be caught. You don’t have to run. You’re one of the lucky ones. You’ll be lucky again. There’s favor on your life. You’re meant to love and act with your whole heart.”

“And to have bonbons.” She covered Ester’s fingers with her own. “I’ll send a note to my father, and then you and I will get a pile of bonbons, and we’ll go sit with Theodosia in her bedchamber.”

“No need for that.” Theodosia waddled into the room dressed in a poppy-pink robe. “What’s going on? Am I missing the love?”

“Never.” Frederica stepped to her and put her arms around her as best as she could. Ester joined them, becoming that needed link between them.

Frederica helped Theodosia to a chair. “You should be in bed.”

“I had to see you off.”

“No need. I decided not to marry. I’ll find Pickens and beg him to make so much chocolate I will be in a stupor.”

Theodosia clapped her hands. “It’s a Christmas miracle. And Ewan and I have discussed this before. You’ll live with us out here and ride horses and play concerts for the new baby and Philip…and take your time to find love.”

Frederica smiled and wiped at her cheeks. “I can’t ask you—”

“I’m not asking, Frederica.” Theodosia said, “I’m telling you. I’m a woman with child, who can be very emotional. Don’t argue.”

Tears flowing, Frederica hugged her friends again. “I love the way you all love me.”

She strengthened her hold about them. This felt right. The butterflies eased.

A rock hit the window.

Then shouting. Were they under attack? Had the crazed thief come to stop her wedding?

No. No. No.

The yelling continued, then it became clear. It was someone shouting her whole name.

Frederica went and opened the window.

“Frederica Eugenia Frankincense Burghley. Come down, I need to talk to you.”

It was Jasper.

“Frankincense?” Ester and Theodosia said in unison.

“Frankincense, like Christmas,” Frederica said to them before turning back to Jasper. “What are you doing, my lord? You could break one of Tradenwood’s windows.”

“Frederica, I can’t let you go through with this. You can’t marry the vicar.”

“I’m not, my lord. Be a good errand man and go tell my father.”

“I’m not joking, Frederica. I won’t allow you to do this,” Jasper said. “Frederica Burghley, I need you to come down.”

“But—”

“Dearest,” Theodosia said, “for once in your life say nothing and just do as he asks.”

“But I should change. Ester, help me.”

“Come down now. I have to see you now. There’s not a moment to lose.”

The urgency in his voice shook her. Had the thief struck? She turned and closed the window.

Ester was smiling big. “Theodosia, you stay here. I’ll help Miss Burghley.” She picked up Frederica’s train, and they went down the stairs all the way to the entry.

Frederica’s skin pimpled in the cold air. She started to head back inside when Jasper came around.

He was dressed in a heavy onyx coat, dark breeches. The edges of a silver waistcoat peeked beneath a gray scarf. He led two mounts, a deep chestnut gelding and an ebony mare. “I brought two horses this time. I thought we’d take a long ride, and I could be more reasoned in my speech to convince you not to marry the vicar.”

“I’m not dressed to ride. It’s very cold out here. And I already decided not to marry. You’ll have to take notes to the duke and the vicar.”

“You are not listening, Frederica.”

“No, I’m not.” A snowflake fell onto her nose. “I don’t want to hear this lecture of how wrongheaded—”

“We are going to take a ride.”

Ester had popped inside and returned with Frederica’s wedding cape. She tossed it about Frederica and carefully pulled up the fur trimmed hood, then she handed her a white muff.

“I still have no gloves, this is ridiculous.”

Jasper came near and tugged his leather gloves free. “Take mine.” He lifted each of her palms and pulled his warm gloves onto her hands. “Now, I’ll put you on your horse.

She was too focused on his face, the intensity in his eyes, to see that his hands had gone about her waist. He lifted her high, higher than when he’d set her on the pianoforte.

“Make sure you hold on. I’ll ride slowly. I don’t want you to fall, though you’d make such a lovely snowflake.

Ester waved and went back inside.

Frederica was alone with Jasper.

“Sounds as if you’ve made a big decision, Frederica. You know how riding settles you.” He started the horses, moving them slowly, as promised. It was a smooth even gait.

Jasper was silent, looking ahead. His rapier gleamed at his side.

“Pretty formal, my lord. Where are you going with a sword? I hope you had no intention of hurting the vicar.”

“Would you visit me at Newgate if I did? You think Barrister Smythen would be able to free me? The defense would be a passionate man driven crazy from jealousy because he lost his dearest friend.”

“No need for Newgate. I decided not to marry.” She filled her lungs with the cold fresh air and then blew it out fast. “You get a full two minutes of gloating.”

He led her horse to a tree and tied the reins to a branch. “I’ll take only a minute.” He kicked his mount into a high pace, then took his rapier and swung it ahead of him like he won a battle. “No vicar!”

His loud, crazed victory yell made Frederica shake her head and laugh.

He put his sword away and headed back to her and claimed her reins. “Did I tell you how beautiful you look?”

“No. I make a great almost-bride.”

“You make a great friend, my best friend, for as long as we both shall live.”

With a deep smile, he started their horses moving again. Soon Tradenwood was no longer in view, just snowy fields all around them. The clean scent of pine filtered all around.

“Jasper, your hands are red. We should go back.”

“What changed your mind? Dreams of me?”

“Yes. And of Theodosia, and Ester, and all our families. I let fear push me into marrying the vicar. I wanted to belong somewhere, and to keep my word to the duke and duchess about a Yuletide wedding.”

“I think you belong with me. It was wrong to ask you so clumsily, to not tell you how lucky I am to know you, and how empty my life would be without you in it, Frederica Burghley.”

He had that look in his eyes that he wanted a conversation she wasn’t ready to have. “Jasper, Ewan said that the winter colds have fallen upon all your daughters. I should give you back your gloves, to keep you warm and healthy.”

“No, I need a friend who’ll feed me lemon ice and take care of me.”

If she weren’t afraid of falling, she’d lean forward and coax her mount into a gallop and flee. “Jasper, perhaps we should return—”

“There’s no returning to being a fool, a sulking fool, one who almost let you go. I should have been at Tradenwood begging, apologizing, bribing you with chocolates, maybe kissing you again to gain forgiveness.”

“There’s nothing more to say. I need to pen a note to the duke and the vicar. I’ll you need you to take them. I’m not ready to face the duke or explain.”

“You’re not listening, Sweetheart.”

“I’ll do anything you want as long as you keep secret our accidental compromise and your proposal.”

“Anything, Frederica?”

She thought about what he’d come up with. He didn’t look devious or like he needed to prove a point. “Yes, Jasper. I trust you. I know you wouldn’t take advantage of me.”

“I will keep these secrets if you finally admit that you liked my kiss.”

He offered her a boyish look, his mouth poked out like a fretful Lucy. That made her heart sigh, then hurt all over again.

“I didn’t hear if you agreed that I was the best kiss ever. Perhaps we can head to Grandbole. I could get you warm. I promise my cook will not burn the biscuits, the chocolate dipped biscuits.”

“Grandbole is too far. We can go back to Tradenwood, where I know the chef won’t burn the biscuits.”

He steered his mount closer, clasped her wrist before taking it to his mouth. “Humor me, Frederica Burghley, for this ride, for as long as we both shall live.”

She took off one glove and slid it on his hand. “There, we can share.”

“There is something better to share.” He made both horses stop. With his bare hand, he stroked her cheek, leaned down and put his cold lips to hers.

Nothing stayed frozen, not with his mouth claiming her.

She arched her back to reach for him, and he took the opportunity to deepen his kiss, to place heated air into her lungs. This wasn’t like before. He’s wasn’t trying to prove he could make her toes curl up in her boots. This was a hello, I missed you, goodness-you-smell-nice kiss.

Tarragon. His scent made her dizzy, her mind swirled, wanting both his hands about her, wishing that nothing would make them part.

He moaned her name. Then he pulled up the fur-lined hood of her cape that had been blown away. “Best kiss, Frederica? Not pasty or dry?”

“No, not dry or pasty. Your kisses are nice, my lord. Now let’s not talk of anything consequential.”

“Just nice. You need to admit that I am good, monumental, very consequential.”

She shook her head to his grin. “Very nice.”

But how could she fault him? The man was good…and a great kisser. With the awkwardness no more, they could go on as friends. She’d need his support to thwart the duke’s anger. But this decision to not marry the vicar was the right one. It was Frederica’s. She’d chosen. And she was lucky enough to be with friends, even a well-meaning viscount who’d support her, hopefully, when times toughened, like in a few hours when the duke and the vicar waited at St. George’s and Frederica did not show.

…

Jasper looked over at his silent friend. He’d procured two horses from the stables, knowing that if for some reason she agreed to come with him, he’d have to do everything right. She needed to know how much he respected her. As much as he desired her.

His gelding was magnificent. In the chilly hair, its coat was thick and glossy. But it was still impotent, powerless to drive its own heart.

If Frederica liked his kisses and did love him as Ewan said, maybe she’d allow herself to be vulnerable to him, one more time. “I missed running your errands these past weeks, Frederica.”

“Once you set me back to Tradenwood, you can take a note to my father and the vicar. You think you could tell him you withdrew your permission so I won’t look so silly?”

“Or stubborn.” He smiled. “You are stubborn, like Simone. What will you tell the vicar? Maybe that you love someone else and it would be a travesty marrying anyone but him?”

“No.” She laughed a little, but her lips shrank to a dot. “His ministry won’t match mine. What’s the point of a respectable name if I couldn’t use it to help those in need? The unlucky ones need me to be smart, not scared.”

“You are smart, Frederica. And I’ll help in any way I can. Those are errands I look forward to running.”

Her gaze was earnest. It was hard to look at her and not let the desire to always serve, protect, and care for her overpower him.

Perhaps she saw it, for she looked down and warmed her exposed hand, coddling it within the borrowed glove.

He needed to lighten the mood. “There has been no greater reward this past year than your magnificent hazel eyes greeting me. I like to think you view me as some type of Grecian god.” He puffed his chest out and rode taller in his seat. “Let’s see, if my father is Zeus, the cruelty and strength are fitting. Ewan would be Apollo, the god of music and arts. I would be…”

“Dionysus, the god of wine,” she said in a small voice, “Or Caerus, the god of opportunity. We are still heading to Grandbole. You haven’t changed course.”

Opportunity was all he needed. And her agreeing to not marry Vicar Pregrine was only the beginning. “Were either Dionysus or Caerus handsome?”

She shrugged and laughed a little.

“You are beautiful, especially when you laugh. Your friend’s family, the Croomes, do make the best fabrics. And Mrs. Croome is an eccentric creature. I believe she helped Mrs. Bexeley finish your gown. If I were the lucky fool who married you today, I wouldn’t be able to take my eyes off you. You are so lovely.”

Maybe it was the cold, but her cheeks offered a redder glow.

“Thank you for this, my lord. Riding means freedom. I intend to ride every day.”

He clasped her reins. “Has there been a new threat? Are you frightened?”

“No. But now all my friends, my married friends, will be hovering about, being polite. I’ve missed you. You’re not always polite. You are the only one who’ll tell me the unvarnished truth about my situation.”

He led her toward one of his hothouses. “What truth do you want me to say?”

“That this thief will be caught, and you and all my friends won’t be harmed by him.”

“No one will ever hurt you, Frederica.”

He wanted to say more, but she wasn’t ready. “Look at my fields. We are now in the Fitzwilliam territory. This was all lavender in the summer, now it’s white, dusted in ice and snow. Winter has shown Grandbole and Tradenwood who is truly king of the land. And you, Frederica, look like a choice rose.”

“No. Don’t make me the last rose of summer.”

“You’re not the last anything, Frederica. Let’s go inside and view the other roses and get warm.”

“What?” Her breath, steaming white, fell. “What are we doing here?”

He tied up their mounts and helped her out of the saddle, but he didn’t let her go until he set her on the floor of the hothouse. “Flowers. Every bride needs flowers.”

She clutched his arm, and he led her deeper into the warmed place with his prize roses.

It was steamy inside from his heat pipes, and Frederica’s delicate curls of brown and gold frizzed. He resisted the urge to tangle his fingers in her hair and have it all tumble down.

“You think the vicar will be angry, Jasper? Will there be another man out there who hates me?”

“The vicar will recover. I’d like to think God’s hold on him is a little tighter to help keep his reason. He hasn’t spent that much time with Simone’s rose.” Jasper drew his sword and with two quick swipes, he cut one perfect white tea rose for her hair and another for her hands. He bent and scooped them up. “For you,” he said to Frederica. “May I?”

A weak smile showed as she nodded, and he put one in her soft frizzy curls and the other he wove into her fingers.

For a second, she held his gaze, and his lungs stuttered when her lips parted.

She moved from him. “It’s warm in here, even though it’s so cold outside.”

“The glass, the steam pipes, keep things the proper temperature for the roses. It’s positively steamy in the summer, or when a pretty woman happens by.” He moved closer, took her arm, and spun her around. “You are lovely. I find the silver and pearl beading almost butterfly-like at your hem a particularly nice touch.”

“They’re evergreen fir branches, like Christmas.”

“I thought about your name, Frankincense. First, I thought Burghley had a sense of humor. Then I thought about your love of Christmas, being a gift of the Magi. Then I remembered it symbolized a priesthood, like a ministry. Your ministry is caring for people. The thief will never take that from you. I’ll not let him take away your freedom to be you.”

“How, Jasper?”

“By keeping you so safe you have no time to think of him.”

He stroked his bare hand along her cheek and angled it up, like at Downing, but this time she stretched and brushed his lips.

It was a quick, chaste peck. “Is that the best you have?”

“Jasper, I’m ready to go back to Tradenwood. I have to send something to the church. A rider on a horse can still get there on time, maybe before everyone gathers.”

That was not how this day was to go. He pulled her into a tight embrace. “I have one more thing to show you. Then, if you still feel you must go back, I’ll take you there. No more dawdling.”

She leaned into him and held him in the warm hothouse, where the scent of lovely roses—heaven in winter—surrounded them. Her arms were fastened to his shoulders, reaching for him as he reached for her. “Jasper, I missed us being easy together. But now I have to send you off on another errand.”

“Your errand man is here to do your bidding, Frederica Eugenia Frankincense Burghley, but we’ve one more place to go.”

…

Frederica put the second rose Jasper had given her into her hair, which felt puffy and curly. It didn’t matter. This was her. This is how she looked.

Her mare neighed as he led them down a different path. “Jasper, is this the way we must go? This is closer to Grandbole.”

“Yes. There’s something you must see. I must have your opinion.”

Her stomach twisted. This path led to the Fitzwilliam gravesite. What could he want her to see? Maria’s headstone again?

Slipping in her seat, she wanted to end this day, not have another reminder of why she shouldn’t love him. “Jasper.”

“Not much farther.”

“But this way? I don’t want to be sad—”

“I know where it leads. You must trust me.”

She did trust Jasper, as much as she trusted herself. Frederica knew her strength, and she’d chosen herself over a poor marriage.

As they made it steadily over the ridge, she braced, but something twinkled in the distance. They made it a little closer. It was orange, like flame.

Her heart raced. “Jasper, the little church is on fire. The fiend has set it ablaze.”

Without a thought, she gripped the reins and made her mount fly.

“Frederica, wait.”

She’d left Jasper and the safety of his leading her horse to get closer to the fine limestone building, to see if anything could be done to save it. She felt her seat slipping from the saddle, but she held on as the mare moved forward.

Finally, at the church’s gate, she pulled the horse to a stop. Then she went airborne, flying and tumbling in the snow.

And landed with a thud.

The next thing she saw that wasn’t white snow or stars was Jasper’s red hair and red cheeks.

He was leaning over her, testing her limbs.

And he was saying things, strange things.

“Don’t be hurt.”

“Don’t leave me, Frederica.”

“My Butterfly can’t leave me.”

She tried to reach for him, but her arm wouldn’t work, and for a moment neither did her legs. Frederica felt helpless, like she had the night of the duke’s celebration. But with Jasper hovering, tending to her, she didn’t feel alone.

This time she reached for him, one stretch, one-half, three, she managed to put an arm around his neck. “I’m not alone.”

The smile on his face before he kissed her brow was wondrous.

“Woman, you’re going to be the death of me.” Jasper lifted her and helped her to stand.

Keeping a hand about her waist, he dusted off the snow and twigs that had matted in her cape and her shimmering train. “For the record, I will state that you’re not a good woman to surprise, maybe because you possess too many of them.”

“Surprise? What are you talking about?”

“This.” He spun her around, but her dizzy mind did a few more revolutions. When her eyes stopped drifting, she saw the old church. Fire torches were set outside. The simple windows at the front had been cleaned. Wait. Were people inside?

“Jasper, is someone leasing the chapel today?”

“My best friend is getting married in there today. That is, if she’ll have me.”

She squinted to focus, but he used his cold fingers to direct her to look at him.

“This way, Butterfly.”

Then he tipped her chin down and knelt before her, both knees down in the snow. “Marry your friend today. Marry me, Frederica Eugenia Frankincense Burghley. P-L-E-A-S-E.”

“Jasper—”

“I wore my best begging breeches. Please, please marry me. There’s no one I’d rather spend my life with than you. And there’s no one I want to have claims or designs upon you other than me. So marry me, marry your friend, Frederica, and continue to make me happy for the rest of my life.”

“What about Maria? I thought you had no room for anyone else.”

“I didn’t think so, either. But it’s not like you to take no for an answer. You found a space in here, and you’re not giving it back. You don’t even share biscuits.”

He stood and pulled her into his arms, “I know this is a rush, but our friends have gathered. I told them that maybe I’d be able to convince you. I’ll tell them I couldn’t if you don’t think it wise, but it would mean a great deal to me and my vanity if you agreed.”

She focused her eyes, so dizzy from his words, his preparation of the church. “Do you love me, Jasper?”

“Are you asking a question that you, too, are prepared to answer, without reservation?”

She pursed her lips and prepared to own her feelings aloud. “Jasper—”

A carriage came up the path. Theodosia’s.

“Jasper, she shouldn’t be here. It’s too dangerous. She was in such pain this morning.”

“Trying to stop my sister-in-law is like trying to stop you. Marry me, Butterfly. Don’t make her trip in vain.”

“Yes, a very pregnant woman who traveled to see you marry.” Theodosia, guided by Ewan and Phillip, took slow careful steps into the church.

“But our banns haven’t been read, my father—”

“I have a special license in my pocket. Your father may or may not be on his way to St. George’s for your first scheduled wedding. And Lord and Lady Crisdon, I didn’t ask them. Your favorite, Lucy is here. She’s the only one of my daughters healthy enough to attend.”

Frederica took both of his hands and blew on the bare one. “You want to do this? You’re not going to look back at this moment and regret it?”

“No. Only that I didn’t scoop you up and take your stubborn form into the church. I’m freezing out here.”

“Can’t have you suffering. Yes, Jasper. I’ll marry you.”

He smiled and threaded her arm through his. “I’ll make you happy, for you make me happy.”

They walked into the old church, and everything hit at once.

Dozens of candles blazed like diamond lights in the corners.

Polished pews gleamed, smelling of orange oil.

Roses, dainty tea roses, lined the aisle all the way to a newly covered kneeling bench.

Friends—the Bexeleys, Lucy, and Mama Croome were all seated, all smiles.

Jasper’s staff must have dusted and cleaned with all the sudsy water Grandbole could muster. He steadied Frederica on his arm and whisked her down the aisle lined with roses, just as she’d described. When she looked back to Theodosia and Ewan, tears bubbled and ran down her nose.

“Frederica, my servants have assured me there’s no dust, none at all.” Jasper smiled at her, and she wanted to cry harder.

He mopped her eyes with a handkerchief and steered her to the large gleaming windows. They were bright and sparkled, each dressed with short white candles set in evergreen fur branches. Gold and silver bows linked the greenery.

“You did this for me, Jasper?”

“Yes. Only you. I never considered that you would have begged off from Pregrine, so I meant to use your weakness for architecture and Christmas to persuade you to decide in my favor.”

“But now that I decided to not marry the vicar, you don’t have to do this. We can go back to being dinner partners.”

He stripped her gloves and took off her cape. “Oh, I have to do this. I will not rest until I marry my dearest friend. You’re not changing your mind, are you, Frederica?”

Lucy came up to her with a big arrangement of white roses. “Papa says you are going to be our special friend forever.”

Risking toppling over, she dipped her spinning head and gave the girl a kiss to the cheek. “Forever sounds nice.”

It was nice.

And the man she was marrying was very nice and handsome, and he cared for her. The fact that she was hopelessly in love with him shouldn’t make a difference.

She’d have to make good on her promise of making him love her. That was a worthy goal, for he was a worthy man who had already won her heart.