“I think,” Jasper said into Hermione’s hair once they had regained their composure, “we are very good at that.”
“I don’t know what to say to that,” Hermione responded with a laugh. “Having had no other experiences of it, who am I to say that you are a better partner for me than some other man?”
He tightened his arms around her, possessiveness overtaking him at the thought of any other man taking his wife to bed.
His wife. The very word brought forth a maelstrom of protective feelings, urged him to cling tight to her lest some other man try to take her away.
“You’ll never know,” he said when he found his voice, “because you’ll always belong to me. Till death do us part.”
At the mention of death, he felt her sigh. “Speaking of death,” she said softly, her fingers toying gently with his chest hair, “there is something I’d like to ask.”
He didn’t like to hear that serious tone in her voice, but Jasper could hardly fault her for it given the events of the past two days. Not only had her father been almost killed, but she, too, had suffered a serious attack.
“Hermione,” he said, “you need never be afraid to ask me something. Or speak to me on any subject. I realize that your life with your father has been somewhat … difficult at times. But you should never worry about angering me or upsetting me. I will always listen to you with an open mind.”
Jasper wasn’t sure what sort of household Upperton had run, but he hadn’t been long acquainted with the man before he realized that he would not be an easy man to live with. The irregular hours he must necessarily keep thanks to his gambling, coupled with his personality, would have made life troublesome for a daughter like Hermione. Who longed for nothing more than to be taken seriously.
“I am so grateful for that, Jasper,” she responded. “Especially since, as you say, life with my father has been unpredictable. And though I know you have assured me that you are not the same sort of gamester as he is, I cannot help but admit that I do feel some degree of trepidation at the fact that I’ve married a man whose favorite pastime is gaming.”
It was hardly a surprise she felt this way considering her father had just been attacked outside a gaming club—not to mention that the only reason they were here together now was because of her father’s habit. But he wasn’t ready to admit that the card game he’d played Upperton for her hand had been a mistake. Anything but, when he considered just how right it felt to hold her against him now.
“What can I do to alleviate some of that worry?” he asked her, knowing that by asking the question he was opening himself up to the possibility that she would ask him to give it up. The one thing he’d always been good at.
Her hand on his chest slowed, as if she were concentrating. “I do believe you when you say that you are not as desperate for games of chance as my father is,” she said softly. “And that you are not so much doing it out of a sense of need as for entertainment…”
“But?”
“But,” she said carefully, “I wonder if maybe you are not as aware of your reasons for doing it as you might think. What I mean is, what if you are so keen to play games of chance because you need them just as much as Papa, but you do not realize it?”
“Are you asking me if I can stop, Hermione?” Jasper asked, just as carefully.
It had been a long time since he’d allowed anyone to dictate his behavior for him. His mother had tried all those years ago when he reached his majority, but once he’d finally told her that he was taking over the running of the estates without her input, it had become easier and easier to tell her no.
But a wife was a different matter.
Yes, the law said that he could do whatever he liked without considering her feelings, but he wasn’t such a boor that he’d ride roughshod over Hermione’s wishes just so that he could pursue his own pleasure. But the idea of leaving behind his time at the tables was jarring.
“I suppose I am,” she said at last, a note of apology in her voice. “Or perhaps I want to know why you do it, so that I might understand better. Because as you’ve said, I’ve spent my life so far with my father’s predilections and look what has happened because of that. I lose my horses, and Papa is lying injured.”
“And you are now married to a man you would never have considered otherwise,” he said tightly. “Let’s not forget that.”
Perhaps he was more uneasy about their reasons for marrying than he’d thought.
But Hermione looked up at him, smiling sweetly. “That is the only thing that’s happened as a result of Papa’s gaming that can be accounted a success, as far as I’m concerned.”
And to his surprise he saw that she did sincerely mean it. Unable to stop himself, he kissed her. “That’s quite the nicest thing you’ve ever told me,” he said with an answering smile.
“But,” he continued, “I’m not sure that knowing my reasons for gambling will give you any more reason to trust me and my gambling habit than you do your father’s.”
She wasn’t going to let the matter drop, however. He saw that in the set of her mouth.
“At least give me a chance,” she said. “Let me know this part of you.”
“Only if you will tell me what it is about driving that you are so desperately attached to,” he returned. “For I find it just as frightening to think of you speeding along the road at breakneck speeds as you find the notion of me in gaming hells at all hours of the night.”
She nodded. “I can agree to that.”
* * *
Hermione sat up so that her back was against the pillows, beside Jasper.
He seemed unfazed by her demand to know his reasons for gambling. But she also knew that he was quite good at hiding his emotions when he wished to. He was a very good card player, after all.
“There’s not all that much to tell,” he said after a moment of thought. “What is it you wish to know, exactly?”
“Why do you feel the need to do it?” she asked. “Why cards instead of some other hobby? Like fencing or riding or hunting? What is it about cards that draws you—besides your superhuman ability to calculate odds. For I can only imagine that would become boring after a bit.”
Jasper sighed, and rubbed a hand over his face. “Well, I suppose I prefer cards because it’s what I’m best at. And I discovered that at school, when I was desperately in need of something to make me stand out from the other chaps.”
“At Eton, you mean?” Hermione asked, curious about what he’d have been like at that age. “That’s where you met Freddy and Trent and Jonathan Craven, wasn’t it?”
“Yes,” Jasper agreed. “But before I met them at Eton, I was on my own. And I do not like to admit it, but twelve-year-old Jasper was not quite the strong, handsome fellow you see before you today.”
“I’m sure you were sweet,” she responded with a grin. She could just imagine his dark curls all mussed from roughhousing and his cheeks flushed from running.
“Too sweet,” Jasper said with a frown. “And I’d just lost my father so that meant I’d just come into the earldom. Which did not make the other boys bow to me in condescension. If anything, they saw it as a reason to treat me even more badly than they’d done before.”
He did not go into detail about just how the older, stronger boys had asserted their dominance over him. There were some things that a man didn’t talk about. And those first few months at Eton were among them.
“Oh dear,” she said, taking his hand in hers and gripping it. “I am so sorry. I didn’t know.”
“How could you?” he asked with a shrug. He’d got over that trauma years ago. And there was no reason to let Hermione take that on as her own burden, too. “I survived it. And one of the reasons why is cards.
“You see,” he went on, “at school, you need a way of making a name for yourself. A way of making you stand out, so that the other boys will admire you. And if they admire you then they want to be your friend. My skill was cards.”
He thought back to the days when he’d first realized he possessed that particular affinity for numbers that allowed him to guess almost without fail which card another boy held, or which card was still hiding in the deck. It had been almost as great a thrill as the first time he’d kissed Hermione.
“I was soon the talk of school,” he continued. “We weren’t allowed to gamble in the open, of course. So we held secret games after hours. Or when we could get away for the weekend. And I found that I was no longer the one who was the butt of every joke. Instead, I began to make friends, like Freddy and Trent and Craven, and eventually became a leader. After that, it became as familiar to me as driving is to you, I would imagine.”
“I had no idea,” she said, her expression serious. “I knew you were good at it, but it never occurred to me that it would have been the way you managed to make friends, and become a man.”
“But that was a long time ago,” Jasper said, needing to let her know how important she’d become to him. “If you wish me to stop gambling in order to feel safe, then I will consider doing it. I’m not sure what I’ll do with myself instead, but I do not want you to think that your wishes are unimportant to me. Or that I care more about cards than I do you.”
Hermione stared at him for a moment, and Jasper wondered if he’d said the wrong thing. They’d only been married for a couple of days, after all, and here he was talking about feelings and such. Clearly he was an idiot.
“Neverm—” he started to say, before she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him.
“Not that I mind,” he said when she pulled away, “but what was that for?”
“I believe my question has been answered,” she said, her eyes glistening with tears. “I don’t think in all the years I begged Papa to stop that he ever once told me that he loved me more than cards. In fact, I am quite sure he does not. Oh, he cares for me after a fashion, but not more than he does those squares of paper.”
“Well,” he said, relieved that his words hadn’t sent her over the edge. “I am pleased to know you are pleased.”
“I am,” she told him with a shining smile. “So pleased. And I do not need you to give up cards. Though I do reserve the right to revisit this conversation if I feel you are skirting toward becoming the sort of player my father is.”
“My dear,” Jasper said in all seriousness, “if I begin to become the sort of player your father is, I will quit the game myself. Because I have absolutely no wish to lose everything I hold dear for the sake of a game.”
“I suppose I owe you an explanation of why I enjoy driving so much, then,” Hermione said, once she’d settled back against the pillows.
“Tit for tat,” Jasper said with a shrug.
“It’s not all that different from your story,” she said, plucking at the bedclothes nervously. “I was a rather lonely child. And unlike you, I didn’t go away to school. I had governesses of course, but my favorite thing was when I could go to the stables to see the horses. And when the head groom taught me to ride, and then to handle the ribbons of the gig, I became even more interested.”
“How did you come to know how to drive a curricle, though?” Jasper asked. “I did wonder, since your father hardly seems like the sort who would teach you. And if he himself didn’t drive overmuch then I didn’t know why he’d have a curricle.”
He felt Hermione still beside him. And he suddenly guessed what she would say next.
“I’ve been friends with Leonora for a long time,” she said finally. “And her brother, Jonathan, too. Since we were in our early teens at least. We met in the park one day when we were all three on horseback. And soon I was spending a great deal of time at the Cravens’ house.”
“So Jonny taught you to drive a curricle,” Jasper guessed. He’d known his friend had played a part in Hermione’s life. Though it hadn’t been until after Jonathan’s death that he finally met the girl his friend had spoken of so often over the years.
“He did,” she said softly. “He was a good teacher. Patient and easygoing, though he could get worked up if he thought I was taking too many risks. Or driving too fast. It was all well and good if he drove recklessly through town, but if I tried it, I’d get a horrible scold.”
“He could be tough,” Jasper said, recalling how intense Jonathan could be at times. Especially when it came to horses and driving.
It was driving that had eventually killed him.
“He could,” Hermione agreed. Then, turning to look at him, she continued, “There was never any understanding between us, Jasper. You have to believe that. Though I did love him. And I believe he cared for me.”
“Then why didn’t…” He couldn’t quite finish the question.
“I think deep down he must have known he wasn’t long for this world,” she said sadly. “I always got the sense that Jonny was driving so fast because he felt he had to in order to get all his driving in while he still could. Does that make sense?”
Thinking back to how his friend had lived, Jasper nodded. “I think that’s a fair assumption.”
“So, when he died,” she continued, “I wasn’t heartbroken. Though I was terribly, terribly sad.”
Jasper took up her hand and kissed it. “So was I.”
“And the reason I drive,” she said, “is because, like you, it’s the thing I am good at.”
“You are good at a great deal of things, my dear,” he said with a smile. “And I have little doubt you’ll discover many more.”
“I am glad to hear you say it,” Hermione said, “but please don’t ask me to give it up. For unlike you and gaming, I’m not sure I don’t have Papa’s inability to quit.”
He stared at her, this woman who had bewitched him body and soul. And tried to imagine what she would be like if he attempted to rein her in, as she did with her horses. The very idea was inconceivable.
“Hermione, I could no more ask you to stop driving,” he said to her, “than I could ask the sun to stop shining or the stars to fall from the sky.”
She raised a brow. “This is England. The sun will stop shining whether you ask it to or not.”
“Saucy minx,” Jasper said, leaning forward to kiss her. “Just know that I don’t want you to change. Or rather, I don’t expect you to. It isn’t a requirement for my happiness.”
“You are a wonderful man,” she said, kissing him back. “My father couldn’t have chosen better.”
Jasper could have informed her that it hadn’t really been her father who made the choice, but figured they’d shared enough secrets for one night.
* * *
The next afternoon, after checking in on her father, whom she found sleeping peacefully, Hermione came downstairs to find the dowager Lady Mainwaring seated in the drawing room with a needlepoint frame before her.
“I hope you are feeling better after your unhappy encounter in the stables, my dear,” her mother-in-law said with a frown. “To think that someone was so bold as to attack a countess like that. It’s shocking.”
“Aside from a small headache,” Hermione said, hiding a smile at the other lady’s indignance, “I am feeling much better, thank you.”
“I am pleased to hear it,” the dowager said, not looking up from her embroidery. “I don’t know what this world is coming to when thieves and brigands feel free to attack ladies like that. It makes me quite frightened for the state of things.”
“It is troubling, indeed,” Hermione said. Then, hoping to change the subject, she asked, “I don’t suppose you know what has become of Jasper? He was already gone when I came down to breakfast.”
“I believe he said something about going to speak with the Bow Street runner,” the dowager said, looking up with a questioning gaze. “You aren’t already bickering, are you?”
Thinking back to their lovemaking and heartfelt conversations of the night before, Hermione blushed. “Certainly not. I must admit that I slept later than usual thanks to the bump on my head, though, and I had hoped to ask Jasper if he had learned anything about the attack on Papa.”
“Not that he told me,” said the older lady with a scowl. “I hope that these ruffians are caught soon. How we are to sleep soundly knowing that such villans are roaming around the city, I do not know.”
Hermione was saved from reply by the arrival of Greaves, who informed her that Ophelia had come to call.
“Oh, do send her in,” Hermione said with relief.
Looking up, the dowager gave Hermione a short nod and rose from her place before her sewing. “I will leave you to your friend’s tender care. Please do let me know if you hear anything from my son. I cannot like that he is out and about while those fiends are still at large.”
Impulsively, rose and hugged her. “Thank you. Truly.”
“I’m sure I don’t know what for,” the older lady said, but she looked pleased.
She greeted Ophelia as they crossed each other in the doorway, and was gone.
“I am so relieved you are getting along with her,” Ophelia said with a sigh. “I was concerned that you were trapped here with no one for comfort but Jasper.”
“And what is the matter with Jasper?” asked Hermione with a raised brow.
“Oh, I mean him no ill will,” the other lady said with a shake of her head. “It’s just that he’s a man. And he has his estates to run and his masculine pursuits. I know you have not been used to having a mother and sisters, but having other ladies to confide in makes one’s day-to-day life so much easier. If you get along. And I am pleased to hear that you do.”
“I suppose you have a point,” Hermione said with a frown. “But never having had them, I don’t know that I’d have known the difference. At any rate, I am quite pleased that we will not be constantly at daggers drawn for I might be able to endure it, but I’m not sure Jasper would,”
“Where is Jasper?” Ophelia asked, unable to disguise the censure in her voice. “I thought after what happened to you yesterday he would be watching you like a hawk.”
“Pray do not fly into the boughs,” Hermione said dryly. “He did not abandon me in my hour of need. He left to go speak with the Bow Street runner, Mr. Rosewood.”
“I won’t apologize,” her friend said, her lips pursed. “I cannot help but look out for you. I only have so many friends in this world, and you are one of them.”
“And I do appreciate it,” Hermione said with a fond smile. “But you may as well know that Jasper and I have progressed quite a bit from the first time we met. Indeed, one might even go so far as to say we care for each other.”
“Oh, that is interesting,” Ophelia said with a raised brow.
To Hermione’s annoyance, she felt her cheeks heat.
“Yes, well,” she said defensively. “We are married, you know.”
“Oh, I am well aware of the fact,” said Ophelia with a knowing smile. “And in the interests of friendship, I would like you to expound on that a little.”
Hermione laughed. “Not for the wide world. I will leave that to your mama once you are betrothed.”
“You’re just as bad as Leonora,” Ophelia groused. “I had hoped that you’d see the logic in letting me know what to expect.”
Hermione thought about her own worries regarding wifely duties—at least, her worries before Jasper had kissed her for the first time.
“I will tell you that it is nothing to fear,” she said, hoping that Ophelia would take what she said to heart. “And it is quite … ah—”
She was saved from continuing by a knock on the door followed by a footman with a note.
Thanking the young man, she ripped it open.
“It’s from Miss Fleetwood,” she said to Ophelia with a frown. “She asks if I might meet her at her house. Alone.”
“That’s odd,” Ophelia said, her brows drawn together. “What do you think she wants?”
“I did inform her that she could find me here,” Hermione said thoughtfully. “Perhaps she wishes to talk about Lord Saintcrow or the Lords of Anarchy.”
She didn’t say that she now knew the lady’s brother was suspected of wrongdoing by the Home Office.
“I don’t like it,” Ophelia said, frowning. “You were attacked yesterday, and today you get a note from a lady you don’t know very well asking you to leave your protected home to visit her alone? It is suspicious.”
Hermione secretly agreed, but she was tired of sitting still while Jasper did all the work. And she’d genuinely liked Miss Fleetwood the day she came to call in Half-Moon Street. If the lady was ill, and left to the tender mercies of a brother who had shown himself to be a ruffian—as the dowager would call him—then Hermione wasn’t sure she could let her request for company pass unheeded.
But she had an idea for how to stay within the bounds of Jasper’s request that she stay away from Fleetwood, and yet still check in on Miss Fleetwood.
“I need to go get some of Papa’s things for him,” she told Ophelia after a moment of thought. “What if I go to Papa’s rented house and ask Miss Fleetwood to come next door? That way, I won’t be endangering myself needlessly, and if she is too unwell to come, then I will simply send my regrets and use the opportunity to get some work done.”
“Hm. That does sound better than going to the Fleetwoods’ by yourself, but I don’t really know how remaining next door will be all that different,” Ophelia said. “Though they are two separate houses. And I suppose you lived there for months before Jasper even warned you about them.”
“I will be right as rain, I promise you,” Hermione said.