“But I don’t need your help,” she spilled out quickly. “You might as well catch a train home once we arrive.”
“What a waste of a journey.”
“Well, I’m very sorry to have wasted your time, but I did not ask you to come—”
“An investigator or two would be helpful. Also I have several friends in Edinburgh...” he murmured, almost to himself.
“I really do not—”
“Of course, they’re not really the sort of keep track of a runaway young ladies...”
“My lord,” she tried.
“Though Emma is a pretty thing. She might have attracted some attention.”
“You think she is pretty?” It was a foolish question. Emma was pretty. It had never really bothered Hettie before, except when she used her prettiness to charm others. However, something deep and sharp jabbed at her when Jasper mentioned it.
He waved a hand. “Yes, if you like that sort.” He leaned in. “My point is, the arrival of a pretty young girl in town might have passed someone’s notice.”
Did he not like that sort of thing? Emma was too young to be a beauty but she would be one day. At six and ten she had a few years to grow into a perfectly proportioned face and willowy figure. With her golden hair and pale skin tone, Emma was guaranteed attention, even if her family were hardly high-society.
Nevertheless, she hoped Jasper had never paid her attention. She was too young for one, and for two...Hettie almost shook her head to herself. Was she really jealous?
“We may have to do some footwork.”
“We?”
“Yes.”
“My lord—”
“Edinburgh is hardly small. Have you been there before?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “It may take some time to track her down but never—”
“Jasper!” she declared, exasperated.
“Yes?”
“I can do this alone. I do not need your assistance.”
The cups on the tables rattled against their saucers suddenly. Hettie grabbed the edge of the table as wheels screeched against metal tracks. The train came to a shuddering halt and Jasper gripped her arm as if to stop her from falling from her seat. Not that the train had come to that sharp a stop, but Hettie couldn’t stop herself from liking the protective movement.
“Stay here,” he commanded. “I’ll find out what is happening.”
Before she could declare she would come with him or show some annoyance at being told what to do, he was gone, along with several other passengers, in the direction of the guard train.
Hettie peered out of the window but could see nothing amiss. A waiter came to clear their empty plates so she snagged his attention. “What has happened?”
“Likely something on the track, ma’am. It happens. They’ll have to clear it before we are on our way. Never fear, the delay won’t be long.”
“Thank you.”
She turned her attention back to her tea, taking a long sip of the now luke-warm liquid. Perhaps she should accept his help. This was for her sister after all. But a man like Jasper...he was a scoundrel. Who knew what he would do? He’d already stolen a kiss off her. He had to have been teasing, though. She highly doubted he would want anything more.
She wanted more, a tiny whisper told her.
Preposterous. She had every intention of remaining respectable, and a man like Jasper would not change that. After all, she was made of sterner stuff. Everyone said as much. No one was as principled and as reliable as Miss Henrietta Foster.
After a while Jasper returned behind the gentleman who had also gone in search of answers. She heard their disgruntled murmurs of annoyance before Jasper sat.
“Is all well?”
He shook his head grimly. “A mechanical problem of some sort. It looks as though there could be some delay and even then, they may have to have the train hauled back to London.”
“They can send another train surely?”
He lifted a shoulder. “I highly doubt they have hundreds of spare trains waiting around for moments like this, Hettie.”
“Oh dear.”
“The guardsman tells me there is a village only three miles from here. We could hire a carriage if you wish. Our journey will take longer than intended, but at least we shall be moving in the right direction.”
Our journey. She sighed. She supposed it would have to be their journey. She did not much fancy trying to find this village alone and she’d have to find a driver too. She’d never driven a carriage before. It was hardly the sort of thing a respectable young woman needed to do.
“Yes. I think that is what we should do,” she said decidedly.
“Excellent. Go pack up your belongings and we shall disembark this wounded beast. I shall go ask the guardsman for directions to this village.”
Hettie did as she was told, wondering quite when it was she had begun to allow him to take charge. But she couldn’t help be grateful. Had she been on her own, she wasn’t sure what she would have done. Likely remained until they returned to London and begun her journey all over again. Perhaps she would thank him for his help later.
That was, as long as he didn’t expect a thank you kiss. She certainly had no intentions of kissing him again.
None at all. Never, ever again. Ever.
Chapter Seven
“Nice hat.”
Hettie put a hand to the feathered, lacy accessory. “I don’t like it.”
Jasper considered the wide-brimmed, pale pink hat. “It’s much better than that brown thing,” he told her firmly. “You look very pretty in it.”
Colour appeared on her cheeks, making him want to grin. He probably would if he wasn’t carrying both of their travel bags and her hat box. He looked to the spire of the church in the distance. The village was hardly far away but it felt it while he was carrying such unwieldy burdens.
“About another two miles,” he muttered, more to himself than anything.
“Would you like me to take—”
“Certainly not,” he snapped. He could hardly claim to be a gentleman, but he wasn’t very well going to let a woman carry her luggage.
“I should, um, thank you for your help, my lord.”
“Jasper,” he reminded her through gritted teeth.
She must have picked up on his annoyance. “Yes. Jasper.”
He shouldn’t feel annoyed. In fact, he wasn’t even sure why he was annoyed. He’d offered to come with her and he had an interest in finding Emma—as soon as possible. Hettie really had no idea the trouble her sister could be in.
Jasper supposed concern for her sister was beginning to eat into him. When they were on the train he could at least be assured they would be on the hunt for her in a few short days. Now they had quite a journey ahead of them. If they didn’t get to Emma and something happened to her, he would never forgive himself.
He should have done more for her, offered more. She was a frightened, vulnerable young woman who had been taken advantage of.
And, in some ways, he’d been quite looking forward to helping her. It would have been a challenge to be sure.
Why had she not come to him if she needed more aid?
“You really did not need to help me, and I am grateful,” Hettie continued and he suspected she’d been rattling on for some time while he’d been pondering his idiocy and concentrating on not dropping her hat box.
Of course, Hettie had no idea quite how involved in her family he was going to become in future. And if Emma had stayed put, no one would have had any idea. Emma could have gone back to enjoying her youth and Jasper...well, he would have endured all the gossip and speculation and embarked on a new challenge in life. Hopefully he still would if they caught up with Emma.
“Well, I have little else to occupy my time,” he said blithely.
“I suppose not, though you seem to keep yourself occupied well enough.”
He swung a glance her way. “You talk of my antics that take up much print in the papers, I suppose.”
Hettie looked at the ground for a moment. “Well, I know little else of you.”
“I hardly read the ladies’ pages, so I cannot comment on what you might find there. Some is likely true and some is most likely exaggerated.”
“You do not care that people find your behaviour scandalous?”
“I learned long ago not to care for what others thought.”
“It seems a selfish way to live,” she said quietly.
Jasper hefted the hat box back under his arm. “Why should I answer to anyone but myself?”
“Well...what of all the women? I should imagine you have broken many hearts.”
“What if they have broken mine?”
She shot a surprised look his way before lifting her chin and eyeing the long, winding lane. “I don’t think any woman has ever touched your heart.”
“You might be right. But these women know full well what they are getting into. I have those rags that pass for newspapers to thank for that. I make no apologies for my behaviour. Life is about seizing opportunities and I can think of no better way of passing my days than in the arms of a beautiful woman. The human connection, Hettie, is powerful indeed and if we do not make use of it, we might as well be no more than barbarians.”
She eyed him incredulously. “You are saying that if we do not...” she waved a hand about, “spend time with the opposite sex in, well, bed that we are no better than animals?”
“Animals have sex. Humans make love. It is our duty as the superior beings on this planet to explore all the world has to offer.”
“You’re telling me that every woman you have bedded, you made love to?”
The colour in her cheeks increased with every word.
“I might not have loved them but I treated them far better than they have ever been. To create a mutually pleasurable and memorable experience with another is, to my mind, an excellent way to pass one’s time on this world.”
Hettie let out an audible breath. “It is a selfish way.”
“When I was a boy, my oldest brother, Julian, grew very sick. I was only young but I realised then how short life was. I’m grateful for that lesson.”
“But you could be doing so many other things. Charitable work, real work.” She paused, forcing him to slow his pace and turn toward her. “You write, do you not?”
“I do.” He shifted the hat box to his other arm. “How do you know that?”
“Well, you do not use a penname so I can hardly think it is some great secret. But I saw your name in a book on your desk.”
“In my spare time, I write for journals. What of it?”
“I would have to believe you are a man of intellect. You disguise it in some ways, though I do not comprehend why, but it is clear you are a thinking man. Why not use that to solve some of the problems of the world?”
He supposed he ought to be flattered. Few people saw him as anything more than a rogue and he didn’t care enough about their opinion to try to change it. Somehow, Hettie saw more than that. It was strange indeed.
However, her disapproval of his lifestyle rankled somewhat. Yet again, he couldn’t understand why her opinion bothered him.
Jasper shook his head to himself and continued up the road. It was carved deep with grooves from carriages and the occasional puddle was left over from previous days’ rain. He had to watch his step while juggling their luggage, giving him a moment to move their conversation away from him.
“What of you? What do you do with your time?”
“I am no lady of leisure if that is what you mean. I know Emma plays it well in spite of our humble circumstances.”
“You father is quite respected, I had heard.”
“We do well enough and live comfortably, but that does not make me work-shy,” she replied primly.
“And what exactly do you do for work?”
“I help at the local orphanage.”
“Ah, admirable indeed.”
“I don’t do it for admiration.”
“No, I imagine you do it for the warm, fuzzy feeling.”
She opened her mouth and shot a fiery look at him that almost sent his toes curling into his boots. Hettie Foster was quite the woman. Thank the Lord she wasn’t armed with her umbrella. But then her gaze narrowed at him.
“You’re teasing me.”
He let his lips twist. “A little. It doesn’t hurt to let yourself smile every now and then, Hettie.”
“I smile.”
“I must make you very miserable indeed then for I’m not sure I’ve seen a single smile from you.”
“You do not make me miserable,” she admitted. “You confuse me.”
Jasper peered at her and saw her clamp her mouth shut. She hadn’t meant to admit to that, he suspected. The truth was, however, she confused him too, so he could well sympathise.
“You need to learn to enjoy yourself,” he declared to cover up her admission.
This incited the reaction he’d expected. The stiffening of her shoulders and pinching of her lips. “I do enjoy myself. In fact, I—”
“Let’s stop at this farmhouse and see if they have a carriage we can borrow.”
She paused to stare at the large farmhouse near the end of the lane as if she hadn’t even noticed its existence. Jasper didn’t know what he’d been thinking, riling her up. It had been fun for a while. Now, he was not so sure.
Now, not only did he wish to loosen those corset laces and set her free, but he wanted to do more. Make her smile, hear her laugh.
Bloody hell, this wouldn’t do.
A young woman answered the door when they called at the farmhouse and she sent them out to her husband, who was in the field. The farmer led them to the side of the barn when they explained their predicament.
He motioned to the cart. “It’s not exactly fancy but she’ll get you there safely.”
Jasper eyed the vehicle. It was basic and the ride wouldn’t be comfortable. And they would be exposed to the elements. But the farmer was right. The wheels looked to be in good condition and it would survive the journey.
The man named his price for the cart and a horse and Jasper handed over the coin with a thanks. By the time they were ready to leave, it was past lunchtime, so the farmer’s wife wrapped up some bread and cheese for them to eat on the way and they were offered directions to the next inn.
“I hope it doesn’t rain,” Hettie said fearfully, glancing at the clouds.
Not a spot of blue was in sight but the clouds remained white. “We’ll be fine,” he said confidently.
Naturally, the weather wanted to prove him wrong. By late afternoon a light drizzle began to coat them and the reassuringly white clouds had turned gun-metal grey. With one hand, Jasper unbuttoned his coat and draped it over Hettie.
“Will you not get cold?”
He shook his head. “You’re more delicate than I am.”
“I am not delicate.”
“Hettie, I have little intention of seeing you wet and ill.”
“But it is true. I’ve never been delicate. I don’t fall ill which is why I started working at the orphanage in the first place. I could look after the poorly children without fear for my health.”
“You parents must have had a lot of faith in you to risk your health like that.”
“Mama says I am sturdy and that means I am not prone to illness.”
He couldn’t resist sweeping his gaze over what he could see of her figure under his jacket. Sturdy was not how he would describe her. Sumptuous? Yes. Delicious? Definitely. Sturdy? No.
The rain grew heavier, preventing him from doing anything other than concentrating on keeping the cart on the road and swiping the water from his eyes. When the sight of a white cottage greeted them in the distance, he gave a sigh of relief. The wavering sign just visible on the outside of the building told him it was the inn to which they’d been directed.
He navigated the cart to the stables and handed Hettie down. The stable hand took care of the horse and vehicle whil
e another young lad offered to carry their luggage. Thank the Lord he didn’t have to juggle that hat box anymore.
“Let us get inside,” he called to Hettie over the increasing rain before striding toward the doorway. He paused when he realised she wasn’t directly behind him and turned to see her tugging up her skirts and doing some odd sort of dance in the rain. Had she become so wet that she’d sickened? Was she delusional? Realisation struck and he couldn’t help release a laugh. Her boot was stuck in the thick mud outside the inn.
Jasper strode over. “Are you stuck?”
“Well, yes!”
“Do you mind if I...” He tapped her leg.
“No, go ahead.”
He curled a hand around her leg and tugged hard. Her boot slipped off and she nearly toppled back. Hettie flung her arms around his neck to prevent a fall and near strangled him. He bent to retrieve her boot but he somehow ended up juggling her and the boot when her feet went from underneath her.
“Hettie, you’re strangling me,” he gargled.
“Oh.” She released her grip a little and almost spilled to the muddy ground again.
Jasper finally settled her into his arms while her muddy boot hung from one finger. It took him a moment to register that she was strewn across his hold and curled into him. He gulped.
And when he glanced down at her, she beamed up at him, a smile teasing her lips. He couldn’t help it. He laughed. And she laughed. And they laughed all the way to the entrance of the inn until he placed her down.
She swiped a few tears of laughter from eyes and grinned at him. “Thank you for saving me.”
He handed over her shoe. “And your boot.”
“And my boot,” she conceded.“We are most grateful. I do seem to get myself into pickles these days.”
“You do indeed. It’s a fine job I do not mind rescuing you.”
“It is,” she said softly. Her smile wavered and softened but lingered in her eyes.
The rain had ruined the feathers on her hat. Strands of her hair stuck to her face and raindrops glistened on her skin. She was an enchanting mix of disaster and beauty. Jasper turned away before he could admire her any longer.
Sinful Cravings (Cynfell Brothers Book 4) Page 6
