Courting A Sinful Stranger: A Historical Regency Romance Book
Page 20
Jasper turned his face away. He didn’t want to talk about it at all. It never helped. It was like a rat gnawing on a piece of hardwood.
He took another deep breath, turning back to his father. “Yes, well,” he said in a sour voice. “I will marry the proper Miss Northwood, as you demand. And now, I really must retire, Father. If there is nothing else …?”
His father looked suddenly sad. “No, there is nothing else, Jasper. And you should go to bed. Sleep it off, and then, think about turning over a new leaf entirely, now that you are betrothed. You cannot continue the way that you have …”
“Indeed,” said Jasper tightly. “Well, I am away.”
He turned and walked out of the room without another word. He didn’t glance back at the figure of his father, standing there, looking bereft. He could never give the old man what he wanted, anyway.
His feet dragged as he climbed the staircase towards his chambers, feeling like blocks of lead. Around him, he could hear the noise of the household. Maids scurrying like mice from room to room doing their chores. It seemed to fade in and out, in his ears.
His bed was cold when he fell into it. For one moment, everything started to spin quite violently. His heart started to hammer again in his chest.
A wife. A perfectly proper young lady. How on earth could he live up to the expectations she would place upon him, whoever she was?
He turned her name over in his mind. Miss Isabella Northwood. What would she be like? He could just imagine her disapproving eyes as she gazed upon him. If she hadn’t heard of his reputation, she soon would. It was a wonder that her respectable father had even agreed to the engagement at all.
He was doomed to disappoint her, even if he tried, which he did not incline to do. It would be a disaster in every way. But it was his duty, and he couldn’t run away from it forever. He was a duke, after all. Sometimes he wished fervently he hadn’t been born into such a lofty title. What must it be like, to be truly free?
His eyes closed, and he could feel his mind melting into slumber, at long last. A deep sense of letting the world go. But just as he was about to drift off entirely, she appeared before him like an apparition. Just standing there, as she always did, sheathed in darkness, with a halo of light behind her. Beckoning to him. Whispering to him.
He punched the pillow in pure frustration. Would she ever leave him? Would he be forced to endure this forever? Even while that perfectly proper young lady, who was destined to become his wife now, lay beside him?
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