by Jaima Fixsen
Marrying an actress was scandalous but not unheard of. Of course if his parents didn’t expire from shame they’d shun him forever—but the title and Cordell Hall had to come to him. His father had no choice about that. Marrying Laura was an excellent idea if only to spite them, but he knew she’d never agree. Actresses might on rare occasions marry their noble lovers, but afterwards, without exception, they left the stage. No man of his class could let his wife parade in breeches in front of half of London and kiss villainous Welshmen. Jasper didn’t particularly enjoy watching those kisses now, but some things one had to endure. Even if he could get her drunk on love words, blind her with kisses, and somehow get her to the altar she would regret it. Eventually she’d see him as another Saltash and the marriage would fail. He’d rather lose her than live that hell himself.
He’d known he would lose her from the beginning. It was coming—but please, not yet.
In spite of his resolve to spare himself the torment of kisses, Jasper lingered on her lips when he collected her from rehearsal that afternoon.
“Vauxhall tomorrow I think,” he said as they climbed into the carriage.
“With your friends?” Laura asked.
“I haven’t spoken to them. There is some kind of gala, but we’ll go to dance. Give the tabbies something to whisper about. You can show off your new Vienna green silk.”
She agreed with a smile.
“And enough excuses,” Jasper added. “I’m going to teach you to ride.” He felt much better, knowing he had time.
*****
They drove out to Richmond after rehearsal to argue the merits of the latest play and say admiring things about the changing color of the leaves—as if either one of them cared about that. Hopefully he wasn’t serious about teaching her to ride.
Laura wasn’t as troubled anymore, not since she’d decided to pretend. It wasn’t real, this romance, but if the world believed it to be she too could suspend good sense for a while. If this imaginary affair was all she would get from Jasper, she might as well enjoy it to the full. Besides, you needed to pretend to act convincingly.
Yes, it was odd, night after night, having your lover return you to the care of his relatives after flirting scandalously all evening. But if you ignored that, and the ever-present Betty, you could convince yourself he was softening, that his gaze held real attraction, that he kissed you because he couldn’t not kiss you, instead of just playing to the crowd. She could let herself be in love with him, so long as she kept the secret to herself.
It was so easy to like him. Jasper was in many ways her romantic ideal. He was fair, with crystalline blue eyes, and elastic wit. He was clever…and he was speaking to her. “Hmm?”
“If you like I could speak to Protheroe and the rest. Or perhaps we could bring along Alistair and Anna.” To Vauxhall, she realized, surprised he was still thinking about it.
“No, I think it would be marvelous to go alone,” Laura said, meaning it. If they could just lose Peter and Betty… “But if you could put Protheroe in the way of my understudy, Alice—”
“She still jealous? It’s an idea but no good, I’m afraid. Protheroe only wants the unattainable.”
“Pity,” Laura said.
*****
They’d visited Vauxhall Gardens before but not through the water entrance. It was worth the trouble, Jasper decided. Even he was charmed by it: quiet boats nosing through dark water that reflected blossoms of lantern light from the gardens. Ashore more enchantments worked, strains of music and winking lights luring them in.
“Quite a picture,” he said.
“Isn’t it?”
She made a fine picture herself, but since she couldn’t help being aware of that, he refrained from commenting. A moment like this couldn’t stand too many words.
They disembarked, shadowed by Betty and Peter, and progressed along the promenade to one of the supper booths for chicken and ham, salads and punch. Jasper mixed the punch himself and though it wasn’t as strong as the infamous brew served by the house, it must have fuddled him.
No other explanation for his actions. Even for the sake of their deception it was foolishness to feed her strawberries and let her dab away crumbs from the corner of his mouth. Without other company they drifted on the music, nibbled delicacies, and refilled their cups until she stopped and looked at him. Such tender eyes—though he knew the glance for the work of an actress, his heart stumbled. They were silent, like two skaters on the ice waiting for it to crack.
She could have asked him about horses; he could have searched out an acquaintance in the passing crowd. “Will you dance?” he asked without thinking, before the moment was gone.
It wasn’t his best idea. Instead of distracting them, the music and chatter was muted by the clinging tension between them. As they moved through the set, his heart galloped to a precipice each time he stretched out an arm for her hand. Confronted by the thick gloss of her hair, the slope of her ivory shoulders, he hummed along with the orchestra to distract himself—a detestable gaucherie he’d never stooped to before. Perhaps she teased him, but she hummed along, smiling dreamily.
Let it be real. Or else let her not see so she won’t laugh at me.
“Forgive me. I’m being an ass,” he said.
“I like the music,” she said as she floated away to the next gentleman in line. Jasper tried to smile at the new lady on his arm, but wished desperately the dance was a waltz.
All Jasper was prepared to say about the music afterward was that it was long and he was thirsty. He drank another glass of punch. “Let’s walk,” he said, setting down his glass and staring purposefully at the crowded promenade. Was she reluctant? At any rate she followed the pressure of his arm. As they cleared the last dancers she looked back, just as the violins in the orchestra raised their bows again. “Oh, may we—”
You couldn’t deny a breathless request like that. They danced again: an old fashioned minuet, a boulanger, two waltzes, and a quadrille. After that, giddy and flushed and laughing, they escaped into the dark, forgetting to see if Betty and Peter were behind them.
“I’ve used up about six years’ worth of dancing,” he told her.
“I’m not sorry. You should do it more.” She fanned her face with her hand—what had become of the one she’d carried? Perhaps she’d left it on the table.
“Maybe I should.” It was certainly one of the safer ways to end up spent and laughing with a woman. He glanced sideways at her as they walked. She looked warm. He liked the way color suffused her cheeks, the cadence of her quickened breath that made her skin flutter against the neckline of her gown.
She was chattering—something about the theatre involving Alice the understudy and a misplaced prop. He didn’t hear. Her words were chimes, incomprehensible when he was lost in the expression of her face and the movement of her fingers. Above them marched a watchful moon, but they were shaded by scalloped leaves with the noise of the revels dwindling away behind them. He stopped walking. She turned to look at him and the words were gone, though her lips still held the shape of the last one to fall. He couldn’t stop himself. Soundlessly, like a crocodile rising from torpid, silty waters, Jasper reached for her with his mouth.
She dropped one graceless sound, shocked by the sudden attack, but that was all. Then she sank into him, her velvety lips soft on his own. He wasn’t sure if it was her arms or his, but they coiled tighter. Then tighter still.
“No audience here. Least none but me.”
Shocked into stillness, it took Jasper a moment to turn his head sideways, confronting Laura’s keeper, the breathless but implacable Betty.
“You promised, sir, that my work would always be respectable.”
Jasper stepped back and passed a hand over his mouth. Laura was right in front of him, but he was afraid to look. He kept his eyes on Betty.
“You’d best tell me if things are going to change. I don’t like walking into this,” Betty said.
“Of course not. Forgive me,�
� Jasper said, hoping Laura would know the words were meant for her too. He passed a grappling hand through his ruffled hair. “I wasn’t thinking. Let the game run away with me after all the dancing.”
“Too much punch, sir?” Betty offered.
“Betty…” Laura began.
“I dare say she’s right,” Jasper said with a weak laugh. He turned to Laura. “Are you as fuddled as I am?”
“I suppose I am,” she said shakily. “Last time I let you mix it.”
“We’ll stick to lemonade,” he said firmly. “Safer.” He took Laura by the hand. “Best I take you home now. Sleep it off.”
They kept up a brightly ticking clockwork conversation on the voyage back. Jasper attended with only half an ear. He was thinking and none of it was comfortable, so he dodged those thoughts and began cataloguing. He’d let the atmosphere confuse him. There couldn’t be romance here. Not between the two of them. The enchantment he’d felt back there was mere intoxication, just as this was only Thames water and not a black, secretive sea. Their barque was a simple rowboat with creaking oars and this sky was one of a thousand others, even if it seemed immense and flat and sprinkled with dust-mote stars. Laura was Laura: Jack’s sister, charming friend, clever actress, and only that.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Faults and fixes
Some troubles didn’t blow away no matter how aggressively you threw your horse over ditches. Though sticky under his shirt and sore in his legs, William didn’t go back to the house. He needed the balm of his stables, warm with the smells of hay and horses.
The horse he called Mandana had velvet ears, a whorl of white beside her right foreleg, and she nudged fondly at his shoulder, lipping his sweat-dampened hair. Working a brush like it would smooth the turmoil in his mind and not just comb dust from his champion mare, William groomed her until his arms ached. The rhythm of his hands distilled his thoughts, as always, but today it did not comfort him. Georgiana was worried. So was he. Every day he heard more of Jasper’s affair and every bit of it was troubling.
Easy to think, given this second chance with Georgiana, that the mistakes of his past were behind him. He had his wife’s forgiveness and her love and was hopefully wise enough to keep both. The difficult chasm separating him from his youngest daughter was gone. Sophy was learning that he’d always loved her, despite his failings as a father. He was making ground with her and Tom; his past mistakes no longer cast such long shadows. But Jasper was in trouble—if not now, then soon—and there was nothing he could say to his son.
Almost as long as he could remember Jasper had used that curling lip and contemptuous eye. He wore it well, but it had been disconcerting on a ten-year-old boy. Even then Jasper never listened to sermonizing. He would laugh and remind William of his own faults, and none too gently either. Jasper wouldn’t take correction any kindlier now. In the eyes of Society he hadn’t done anything terribly wrong. Actresses were an acceptable pastime for gentlemen; William was the one who’d ruined an innocent.
A bead of sweat rolled alongside his nose into his eye. William rubbed his face against his sleeve and blinked away the sting. A man of twenty-six like Jasper ought to understand his father wouldn’t wish him to repeat his own mistakes, but it would be easier, so much easier, if he could counsel his son from a blameless position. Bent double, brushing caked mud from his horse’s fetlocks, William clenched his teeth and ignored John Whitsall’s cough at the front of the stables.
He hadn’t realized till now all he’d thrown away that day he chose to ignore his conscience.
As dirt crumbled away a different awareness intruded on his thoughts; it was quiet now, the only sound the sweep of his brush. John and the lads were silent, their feet and forks still. Puzzled, William threw a glance over his shoulder and straightened at once. It was Georgiana, holding up her skirts as she minced over the straw on the floor.
“Miss me?” William set down the brush.
“Yes, if you must know,” Georgiana said, trying without success to protect her beaded slippers. “I expected you an hour past.”
“Worried on my account? You spoil me.”
“Why are you doing that?” Georgiana asked. “You’re filthy.”
William shrugged. “Helps clear my head.” It wasn’t his habit to worry but when he did, it was best done here. “Next time I’ll send a message. You needn’t fret yourself.” Usually he remembered her need to know his whereabouts, but today unhappy thoughts had distracted him. William reached for the rag hanging over the edge of the stall and rubbed his hands.
“You’re just making your fingers dirtier,” Georgiana said. “What’s the matter?”
He didn’t evade. “Jasper. I want to make things right, but—”
“I know,” she interrupted, lowering her voice.
“We shan’t be disturbed,” William told her.
Georgiana looked around. The stable boys were already gone. John vanished into his cupboard of an office. “Did you make them evaporate?”
“You did.” He smiled. “They’re smart enough lads. They know only a reason of particular importance would bring you here. I expect some of them have never seen you before.” He leaned a shoulder onto the partition dividing the stalls.
“Yes, well—” Her face changed and she broke off. “I came only to find you.”
“Normally you send for me. I expect,” he said blandly, “they gather you’ve an important matter to discuss.”
Georgiana turned a beautiful shade of pink. Mastering a grimace, she said only, “I suppose it would be foolish to expect them not to notice the change.”
“Does that upset you?” he asked. She was skittish about scrutiny of their changed relationship. He understood. She was proud and didn’t want to be humiliated again.
“It shouldn’t. I’ve been thinking…well, there’s no need to be a coward. I should like to visit Henrietta sometime soon. With you.”
Coward? That was his flaw not hers. It had taken him so long to move past old grievances. “It has been a long time since we’ve seen her and Percy,” he said in a neutral voice.
“You’ll come then?” she asked.
“You know I will.” It was no hardship for him to be at her side. The servants knew the truth and they deluded themselves thinking Sophy and Tom hadn’t winkled it out by now. But visiting Henrietta—together—was different. They couldn’t pretend nothing had changed if they did that. “Does this mean—” William began.
“I’m not proposing to make a vulgar announcement or anything. Let Henrietta discern the truth—we must hope she’s at least as clever as your grooms.” It was like Georgy to rush obliquely over important things, but he couldn’t, not for something like this.
“Are you saying you trust me?” he asked, afraid to look at her directly.
Being Georgy she only nodded. “Henrietta probably knows already. Sophy would tell her I think. But I expect she would like to see for herself and—”
He wanted to hold her but knew she wouldn’t care for his salt-stained face and grubby hands. Later, he thought, filing away plans to catch and disarrange her.
“—our children at least should know.”
William abandoned his good intentions. She squeaked as he seized her, but that was all.
“Come away from here,” he said, trying to feel his way out of the crowded stall.
“I’d much prefer that,” she said, breathless but not letting go. “If we are to make a spectacle let it be just a little cleaner.”
He laughed. If they weren’t going to worry about stirring up talk, he must immediately carry her someplace sufficiently hygienic…
“Probably no one will notice us once we go to town,” she said. William made a noise he hoped sounded like agreement. She felt so good in his hands and—
“London already has Jasper to stare at,” Georgiana finished and then William was thinking again. About his son, not his wife’s perfume and her warm skin. Sober now, he let go of all but her hand and thumped onto a b
ench by the tack room, pulling her down beside him.
“What can we do? I don’t like it,” he said as he stared at the floor. “Till now, Jasper’s always been discreet.”
“He misses Sophy. And Alistair. And I think we’ve upset him,” Georgiana ventured. “Perhaps he’s doing it for spite.”
It was possible. He’d always had a keen instinct for riling his mother, one of his favorite sports. But there was another more troubling possibility, one that had driven him to the stables. “Maybe he loves her,” William said. It certainly was the image presented to the papers. He couldn’t remember such a blatant display of a couple in love from anyone—it wasn’t at all like his son. Jasper was elusive, impenetrable as a blizzard. He did not expose his feelings. Perhaps this was a game, merely for show, but that too was distressing. Even if she was only an actress, he didn’t like to think Jasper could be so false or cold-hearted.
“I thought of that too. It will be a terrible mess if he loves her, but correctable if she’s merely avaricious.”
“Buy her off?” William suggested.
“Henrietta already tried. We could as well, but if he loves her he’d never forgive us,” she said. “I hope, though it pains me to say it, that this affair is just a sordid thing of physical passion on both sides. Even those, of course, can have unfortunate consequences.” She didn’t look at him.
William studied the straw stuck to his boots. “I’ve thought of speaking to him—but how can I? He need only remind me of my own mistakes.”
“You could be perfect and he might not listen,” Georgiana said. “We still must try. He’s worth the trouble.”
