“I thought I made it clear you weren’t to call on my sister,” the marquess growled, stalking down the hallway towards Jason.
Well, there was that. Still, if Jason was going to confess all to Pippa, beg her to forgive and then marry him, Berkswell would find out eventually, wouldn’t he? Jason stood his tallest, hoping he looked more confident than he felt and said, “But I’m fairly certain she has feelings for me, and I do want to marry her.”
He didn’t even see Berkswell’s fist; but when it crashed into Jason’s left eye, he stumbled backwards and then fell to the floor.
Miss Mills gasped. “Everett Casemore!” the old woman chastised the marquess. “Have you gone mad?”
Jason squinted, only able to see out of his good eye. Berkswell loomed over him like a murderous fiend, his hand still balled into a fist.
“And they say Lord Harrison has a better arm.” Jason pushed up to his knees.
“Get out!” Berkswell demanded, a vein pulsing beside his so far unassailed right eye.
But Jason found his feet once more and held his ground. “Not until I see Pippa. If she sends me away, I’ll go.”
The Casemores’ maiden aunt hobbled towards him, concern etched across her ancient brow as she placed herself in front of her beyond furious nephew as a shield of sorts. “She’s not here.”
“Where is she?”
The old woman shook her head. “Do you love her?”
Berkswell growled, low in his throat, but his aunt lifted a hand to quiet him.
Jason paid the marquess only a little attention, as Miss Mill’s question fluttered around his heart. He wasn’t sure what his answer was. He’d had Heath’s words echo in his ears all night. He didn’t want to lose Pippa. He didn’t want to see her marry some other fellow. He didn’t want her to bear some other man’s heir. “I-I think I do,” he finally muttered.
“Well, you should be sure,” the woman advised.
How did one know if one was sure? Jason blinked at her with his good eye, unspoken words caught in his throat.
She seemed to take pity on him as she sighed. Perhaps she saw something in his countenance he wasn’t aware of. “She’s gone to Hyde Park with Lady Heathfield.”
Lady Heathfield? Damn it to hell. What if Emma Heathfield told Pippa everything before Jason had a chance to? What if she poisoned Pippa’s mind against him? What if she ruined the only chance at happiness Jason had ever really had? “Thank you,” he mumbled as he turned on his heel, tossed open Berkswell’s door, and ran down Upper Brook Street as fast as his Hessian-clad feet would carry him, until he tripped and stumbled forward.
The worst damned luck ever.
Jason scrambled back to his feet and brushed the street dust from his trousers, discovering he’d ripped a hole over his right knee in the fall.
But none of that mattered. He had to get to Pippa before she learned his secret, decided to never speak to him again, and started planning her future with some other fellow.
Lady Heathfield opened her fan, holding it in front of her mouth as though to keep others along Rotten Row from reading her lips. “That fellow there?” She cocked her head towards a lanky gentleman astride a horse. “Heath says creditors are hounding him left and right. He’s on the hunt for a wealthy bride this Season.”
He didn’t even seem familiar. “Who is he?” If the fellow was Scottish, she’d sent Moira his direction.
“Lord Cleasby.”
“Lord Cleasby?” Pippa echoed. The gentleman who’d put her name in that awful book? On second thought, he could have a hundred Scottish estates and she wouldn’t point Moira towards him. What a terrible man he must be.
“The very one,” the viscountess muttered, casting Pippa a sidelong glance.
“He thought to line his pockets by blackening my name.” Pippa frowned at the man whose horse brought him nearer with each step of his bay.
“Desperate men do desperate things.” Lady Heathfield nodded towards a couple passing them in a phaeton. “And Heath says no one with any sense would ever bet against St. Austell.”
But Albie had. Sweet Albie, who’d believed in her virtue. Dear Albie, who’d offered her his future to keep her safe. Reckless Albie, who’d landed her in this mess in the first place with that blasted flask of his. Still, his faith in her did warm her heart. If he only made her heart flutter at all, the way Jason had done, she’d take him up on his standing offer of marriage. Alas, he didn’t. And she doubted he ever would.
“Heavens!” Lady Heathfield sucked in a breath of air. She gestured with her fan towards the south end of the park just as the landau rolled to a stop.
Pippa turned her gaze in the same direction and her mouth fell open. In a large basket beneath a red and yellow striped gas balloon, a girl with wavy blonde hair gazed out at the land below. A girl Pippa knew rather well. “Georgie?” she whispered under her breath.
Beside her, Lady Heathfield shook her head. “You and your friends have certainly made names for yourselves this Season. I think I see why Grandpapa never let Izzy or me hie off to girl’s school.”
Despite the viscountess’s censure, Pippa couldn’t help but smile as she lifted her head higher to watch her friend. An adventure. Georgie had wanted an adventure. She so hoped her friend was enjoying the one she was on. She resisted the urge to wave at the balloon and cause more of a scene on the ground.
“Is that Haworth with her?” Lady Heathfield whispered, and the way she said the man’s name made it clear the viscountess did not think well of the gentleman.
Pippa shrugged. “I don’t know him.”
“You should keep it that way.”
“Pippa!” came a familiar voice not far behind them on the path.
Pippa turned to find Patience riding alongside her cousin, Mr. Rowan Findley. She smiled at the pair and gestured towards the balloon, still high in the air. “Did you see Georgie?”
“Hard to miss her,” Mr. Findley said, a note of awe in his voice. Then he turned his attention to Pippa and Lady Heathfield and touched his hat in greeting. “My ladies, you are both looking lovely today.”
What a practiced liar he was. Pippa had seen herself in the mirror. The dark circles under her eyes made her look like a raccoon. Had Mr. Findley lied to her each and every time he’d complimented her in the past? “Mr. Findley,” Pippa replied. “So nice to see you today.”
A hush went across the crowd at the park. More people must have spotted Georgie. Pippa glanced across Rotten Row, only to see that the others weren’t looking up at the sky, but back towards the Park Lane entrance.
“Dear God,” Mr. Findley muttered. “Is that St. Austell?”
St. Austell? Pippa’s heart seized. She hadn’t thought she’d have to see him so soon. And certainly not with half the ton in attendance. Still, she couldn’t help but turn her gaze towards in the direction everyone else was already staring.
Good heavens! Jason looked as though a carriage had run him over and dragged him down a lane. His hair was mussed. One eye looked blackened. He walked with a limp and his clothes were in an awful state, smudges all across his shirt and jacket and a gaping hole in his trousers where a bit of blood had stained his right leg.
For a half-second her heart ached at the pitiful sight of him. But then the memory of his perfidious actions swept into her mind. Deceitful blackguard. Pippa turned on coach bench, and focused on the path before them. She would not give him the satisfaction of her attention, no matter what sort of disheveled state he found himself.
Jason didn’t notice the pain in his leg or the soreness of his eye. He barely noted that the throng along Rotten Row all seemed to be gaping at him as he limped across the park. But he didn’t care. Not one bit. Only Pippa, high in a landau bearing the ducal crest of Danby, held his attention. That and the fact that the roguish Rowan Findley, atop an impressive hunter, was leering at Pippa just a few feet away.
Jason increased his pace, his glare fixed on Findley with a murderous rage that would have don
e Berkswell proud. Potsdon or some other oaf Jason could have dealt with, but Findley… Well, Findley was cut from the same cloth Jason was. And he’d be damned if the scoundrel had set his sights on Pippa. He’d kill the smooth-talking lothario first. Right there in the middle of Hyde Park with his bare hands in front of all the world.
Findley, that damned rake, turned his stare to Jason. “You all right?” He smirked, his voice carrying across Rotten Row.
Jason was far from all right, and the look he shot the man warned him from asking anything else. Then he shifted his attention to Pippa and the Danby landau. Her back was to him as though she was the only person in all of Hyde Park who had yet to notice him.
“Lady Philippa!” he called.
Finally she turned in her seat and met his gaze. She was so pretty sitting in the open air coach, the breeze catching some of the light brown tendrils that framed her face, her innocent green eyes that… Jason stopped where he stood. Pippa’s eyes most definitely had a haunted look about them this afternoon, a look he’d never seen her wear before.
His heart sank.
She knew. She knew everything. He could tell by her wounded expression and the way she reached for Emma Heathfield’s hand. Damn it all to hell, he’d never wanted to hurt her, and knowing he’d done so was like someone had plunged a dagger into his chest.
Jason limped towards the landau, ignoring all the censorious whispers and glares he left in his wake. If he could just get her alone, if he could just explain… Of course, he didn’t know what he’d say to explain his behavior, but something would come to him, wouldn’t it?
“Lord St. Austell,” she clipped out, “what a surprise.”
Any last hope that she didn’t know the entire truth evaporated the instant she said his name. She would never forgive him.
Jason turned his glare on Emma Heathfield, who most certainly had filled Pippa’s ears with all the sordid details. Damn her eyes. “I didn’t realize you were so close with Lady Philippa.”
A sad smile settled on the viscountess’s lips as she sent him a piteous glance. “We met at my ball earlier this week. She’s a delightful girl. I’m quite happy to know Lady Philippa,” she said loud enough for all of the bystanders and gawkers to hear clearly.
And that’s when Jason realized Emma Heathfield was doing her best to preserve whatever was left of Pippa’s good name, standing beside Pippa, supporting her in front of all the ton, protecting her as best as she could, which was what Jason should have done from the beginning. So Pippa would never forgive him, he’d deal with that later, in the privacy of his own home; but he could protect her and do a better job than Lady Heathfield was capable of doing.
Finally reaching the landau, Jason met Pippa’s gaze once more. “I am sorry for everything, sweetheart,” he said softly. Then he flashed her his most roguish smile, the one that made most women swoon. He inhaled deeply and said loud enough for their assembled audience to hear. “Your rejection of my offer has wounded me to my core, Lady Philippa.” Pippa’s green eyes rounded in confusion. She hadn’t caught on to what he was doing. He’d have to do better. “A more virtuous woman, I’ve never met, and I wish I was worthy of you.” That at least was true. “But not to worry, I shan’t darken Berkswell’s door again.”
What was he doing? And why did he look as though he truly had been dragged behind a coach? He turned on his heel and began to limp away. Pippa knew she should let him leave, let him walk out of her life, but her heart still leapt when she saw him. He still made her breath catch in her throat at the sight of him. The memory of his kisses, his caresses washed over her, and Pippa couldn’t imagine never seeing him again.
“Wait!” she called before she could think the better of it, and Jason halted his step.
A look of surprise flashed in Lady Heathfield’s eyes. “Do you know what you’re doing?” she whispered from behind her fan.
Pippa shook her head. “But he is injured, Lady Heathfield. Can’t we offer him a lift at least?”
The viscountess squeezed Pippa’s hand. “As long as you’re certain.”
Not that Pippa felt certain of anything, and hadn’t in quite some time. But the idea of never seeing Jason again pained her heart. She looked from Lady Heathfield back to Jason, who now stood in the middle of the row. A tiny bit of hope lit his blue eyes. “Certainly you shouldn’t be walking on that leg, Lord St. Austell. Would you like to sit for a while?”
Apparently, he didn’t need to be asked twice. He hobbled to the landau, opened the door, and pulled himself up into the conveyance. He dropped onto the bench opposite Pippa and Lady Heathfield. “You are too kind, my lady.”
Kind? She wasn’t kind. She was simply a ninny who didn’t have a clue what to do next, but she had a feeling that her future hinged on whatever happened in the next few moments. Her mouth went dry and her stomach twisted.
Jason glanced at Patience’s cousin and scowled. “The performance is over, Findley.”
Mr. Findley chuckled. “On the contrary, I think it’s just beginning. But I’ll leave you to your quarry.” He gestured to a spot up ahead of them. “Come along, my dear. You can speak with Lady Philippa another time.”
Patience shot Pippa a glance that said she wouldn’t move from her spot if it wasn’t all right. Pippa smiled at her friend. “We’ll do tea. Berskswell House this time, as the only crying infant is Harry on occasion.”
Patience nodded in agreement. “I’ll hold you to that.”
As soon as the Findleys were out of earshot, Pippa focused her attention on the disreputable and quite disheveled earl across from her. “What happened to you, Jason?” she asked softly, pitching her voice low.
He shrugged as the landau started moving once again. “Just a series of one misstep after another.” He leaned forwards on his bench and Pippa couldn’t help but notice the purpling of his left eye.
Good heavens. Had his face met Harry’s fist a few times? Her brother did need to work on his predisposition of using fisticuffs to solve his disputes.
“I don’t care about any of that though, Pippa. I—”
“What happened to your eye?” she interrupted. “Did Harry…?”
“Berkswell,” he said with a shake of his head.
“Berks?” Her mouth dropped open. Berks was hardly the violent sort. He used his words, not his fists. “Why?” She reached her hand out to touch his face, even though she knew it was foolish to do so. A jolt of awareness shot through her at the contact, and she pulled her hand back.
A self-deprecating smile settled on his lips. “I told him I wanted to marry you, and apparently he wasn’t too keen about the idea.”
Marry her? But after the lies and the subterfuge, why? What was the point? Pippa’s heart was in her throat. She must be missing something. “You asked him for my hand?” She couldn’t quite believe his words. He was, after all, not the most truthful fellow.
His light blue eyes twinkled with what could only be described as mischief. “I didn’t ask him. I told him I wanted to marry you, but that was before…” His gaze flashed to Lady Heathfield.
Before he’d come to his senses? Before Berks blackened his eye? “Before what?” Pippa prodded, not sure if his answer would tear her heart in two, but she needed to know.
“Before she told you everything. Before I could straighten out this whole mess.”
A mess was exactly what it was. Pippa shook her head. “Lady Heathfield didn’t tell me anything.”
“I didn’t have to,” the viscountess added. “She’d already figured it out herself.”
Jason’s eyes dropped to his boots, the bit of hope he’d had on face vanished. “Well, that’s worse then, isn’t it?”
Was it? Had he meant to straighten out this mess? “Why did you lie to me?” Pippa asked, her voice so low she barely heard herself.
Jason slowly lifted his head, his gaze landing on Pippa. The hurt in her lovely green eyes was still there, and he cursed himself anew for having caused it. “I didn’t tec
hnically lie,” he said and then winced. That was hardly the way to go about asking her to forgive him. “I omitted,” he amended, “but it is still unforgivable. If you aren’t able to forgive me—”
“Why did you omit?” Pippa asked, and it seemed as though the answer was as important as her next breath. He had to tell her the truth, all of it, no matter how it made him look.
“Collins,” Lady Heathfield called to the driver. “I see my sister across the way. Do stop, will you?” Then her eyes met Jason’s. “Take Lord St. Austell and Lady Philippa for one turn about the row, then return for me, please.”
The landau came to a stop once again, then the viscountess rose from her bench. Jason started to stand, to assist her to the ground, but she waved him off.
“You are injured, my lord. I can manage on my own.” Then she opened the door and dropped to the ground, which wasn’t exactly the most ladylike way to exit the conveyance, but she did seem to be in a hurry to leave them to themselves. Lady Heathfield turned back around, gestured her driver forward, and smiled at Jason and Pippa. “Use your time wisely.”
It wouldn’t take too terribly long for Collins to make one turn and head back, but it was more than Jason had hoped for. More than he deserved, certainly. He might not get another chance to make things right with Pippa, and he wouldn’t have this chance without Emma Heathfield. It was no wonder her husband was so besotted. The lady was an angel in disguise.
Just before the landau lurched forward, Jason moved to the other bench so he could sit beside his angel, the girl who had so completely captured his heart without him knowing how she’d done it. Jason took her gloved hands in his and cleared his throat. “I am sorry, sweetheart. I did lie,” he finally admitted. “Not to you, but to myself, which was a foolish thing to do.”
A crease formed across Pippa’s brow. “I beg your pardon?”
The Betting Season (A Regency Season Book) Page 7
