Mistletoe, Marriage, and Mayhem: A Bluestocking Belles Collection Page 6

  "Tessa, it honestly does not matter to me one jot," he said in a tone that was both grave and compassionate. "If anything, it makes you all the more attractive in my eyes, because it gives me some hope you will be more accepting of me, and my physical affliction."

  Tessa shook her head in puzzlement. "Your affliction? I… I don't understand what you are alluding to, Jasper. You are so…" she blushed but continued with her confession anyway. "You are one of the most handsome men I have ever met."

  He smiled and inclined his head. "Thank you. But like you, I have something I keep well-hidden from the world. Has your brother told you I served under Wellington at Waterloo?"

  She nodded. "Yes. But it was only in passing. He mentioned you were a former captain in the 52nd Light Infantry, but since returning home, you have resigned your commission."

  "Yes." Jasper's smile faded, and small lines of strain crinkled the corners of his eyes. "During the battle, I sustained shrapnel wounds to my lower left leg." Swallowing audibly, he held her gaze. "I lost part of my left foot, Tessa. One of the surgeons tried to save what he could. But like you, I have a partial amputation."

  "Oh." Flabbergasted didn't even begin to describe how Tessa felt. "I had no idea." She cast her eyes down to his shiny black Hessian boots. "But you walk without a limp."

  "It took some practice, and I have my boots and shoes specially made at Hoby's. You may have noticed, however, that I do not dance. That activity, I'm afraid, is quite beyond me."

  Tessa smiled. "Well, that is something else we have in common. I am not much of a dancer, either. Or a horsewoman. Or hostess, for that matter." She pulled her right hand from her pocket and extended it toward him. He took it without hesitation, and it was that small gesture that gave her the courage to continue.

  "From a young age, I was mad about horses and riding. When we were at home at Trevilian Hall, I would ride as often as possible about the estate, in the company of my mother or Christopher, and a groom, of course. But then, when I was twelve, my father purchased a rather wild stallion—quite aptly named Diablo, and I, quite stupidly, took it upon myself to ride him, on my own… with disastrous consequences, as you can imagine."

  "You had a fall?"

  She nodded. "Diablo took a jump over a stile that I hadn't the skill for and…" She closed her eyes as the sound of Diablo's piercing scream filled her head just as it always did whenever she recalled the first few moments after the fall. The moments she could remember, at any rate. "Diablo broke his leg and had to be shot, and I…" She drew a shaky breath and wiped a stray tear from her cheek. "My ring and little finger were crushed. Like you, the local physician did what he could, but they could not be saved. My father was so angry with me, I don't think he ever forgave me. Indeed, I have never truly forgiven myself."

  "Oh, Tessa, you were but a child." Jasper caught her against his chest, and she gladly sank against him, drinking in all the comfort he had to offer. "Your father must have been a silly, stubborn man."

  "And I was a silly, willful child," she said thickly, unable to hide the note of self-reproach in her voice. "Because of my disfigurement, my mother was reluctant to expose me to the critical eyes of others. And my father… Well, suffice it to say, he was more than a little ashamed of me. As far as he was concerned, I was the troublesome daughter, the family burden. The daughter who would never make a good marriage. Of course, over time, I learned to hide my hand as best I could, by wearing gloves, or gowns with trailing sleeves, or pinafores with pockets. But so many activities require a lady to use her hands. It is almost impossible to disguise the fact you have lost your fingers. Avoiding social engagements as much as possible seems the easiest way around it." She drew back from the circle of his arms and sought his gaze. "I truly never thought I would marry… and certainly not to someone like you."

  Jasper arched an eyebrow, and his mouth tipped into a playful smile. "What do you mean, like me?"

  "Are you fishing for compliments? I've already admitted I find you very handsome."

  "No one is perfect, Tessa, least of all me. We all have scars. Some are a little less obvious, but they are there all the same." His gentle smile faded, his expression becoming sober. "I haven't told you everything. As difficult as it is to admit, I also suffer from nightmares, as you will soon find out. Indeed, until a fortnight ago, I had established the dreadful, self-indulgent habit of imbibing a little too much alcohol to help me sleep… and to forget. You saw evidence of that at Emma's ball."

  Tessa knew exactly how that felt… to want to forget. She touched Jasper's arm with her other hand. "It wasn't your fault you were wounded."

  A wry smile curved his mouth. "No, but like you, I disobeyed my father. And because of my stubbornness, both he and my older brother died."

  Tessa frowned. Surely not. "How can that be? Did they serve alongside you?"

  "No," he said with a deep sigh that clearly spoke of regret. "I joined the ranks of the Light Infantry, against my father's wishes. Becoming an officer in His Majesty's Army had been a long-held ambition of mine. You see, I used to be quite the Corinthian, but by the time I had finished at Oxford, I decided I wanted to put my athletic skills to real use. There's no greater challenge than a battlefield."

  Ah, that explained her husband's admirable physique. "I take it your father didn't agree."

  "Yes, you could say that. When I obtained my commission, he and I became… well, estranged would be the polite way to put it. But despite our differences, when I was wounded, my father sent my older brother, Crispin, to find me and bring me home. The makeshift field hospital I'd been sent to had questionable conditions, so I was undeniably grateful when he showed up. However, on the journey home, Crispin grew very ill with some kind of virulent fever. By the time our ship made port in England, he'd passed away. It was so sudden. Such a waste of a good man's life. To this day, I still have no idea what illness it was that claimed him."

  "Oh, my goodness. That's terrible. I'm so sorry, Jasper. What happened to your brother isn't your fault either."

  He squeezed her hand. "Thank you. My father didn't see it that way though. When he heard what had happened to Crispin, his heir, he grew so angry…" Jasper drew a shaky breath. His face was pinched with grief, the look in his eyes, haunted. "Father had a fatal apoplectic seizure right before my very eyes. I'll never forget that day as long as I live."

  Tessa's heart ached for him. He carried so much guilt, no wonder he felt the need to escape the pain. "Oh, Jasper. I had no idea. Living with so much sadness and regret is not easy."

  Jasper touched her cheek, brushing away another of her tears with his thumb. "No, it isn't, but you know that, too. Thank you for listening, Tessa. I am grateful for your understanding."

  She offered Jasper a watery smile, touched by her husband's compassion. "As am I." Her gaze fell to his mouth, and she knew by the way he angled his head he was about to kiss her. And this time, she wanted him to kiss her. So very much.

  He cupped her jaw, and as his mouth covered hers, she wrapped her arms about his neck and kissed him back with equal ardor, if not skill. But Jasper didn't seem to mind in the least. His other hand slid from her hand, skimmed up over her waist to her breast, and she moaned her pleasure, hot, sweet desire sweeping through her, making her giddy. She'd never known physical love could be so overwhelming and addictive, so breathtakingly sublime, until she'd met Jasper.

  And they'd only just begun.

  Jasper broke the kiss and smiled down at her. She was pleased to see he was as breathless as she was, and from the telling swell at the front of his breeches, he was ready for more. Feeling suddenly bold, she pushed her left hand beneath his coat and pressed her palm against his wide, hard chest wishing the barriers of silk and brocade were gone. The idea that she could touch and explore his naked flesh was shockingly delicious.

  She reached up to kiss him again, but he pressed a finger to her lips. "Before we move into the bedchamber, I want to prepare you for the fact that I won't be wearing my
boots to bed. You, on the other hand, can wear your gloves if you'd like. And I wouldn't mind at all if you also wore your stockings. And perhaps these…"

  Before she could fully process the shocking notion of wearing nothing but gloves, silk stockings, and little else, Jasper reached into an inner pocket of his tailcoat and withdrew another velvet-covered box, ivory this time. Tessa took it from him with trembling fingers. Inside lay a delicate strand of pale pink pearls. "Jasper, you really didn't have to," she admonished, but there was no heat behind her words.

  He smiled. "Indulge me this once. Consider it a wedding gift."

  "It's lovely, but I really don't need extravagant presents like this." She took a deep breath and, for once in her life, decided to ask for what she really longed for, deep in her heart. "Two weeks ago, you asked me what I wanted, and I realize now what that is. I want something real, something true, to develop between us. A union that is more than amicable. I want us both to be open-minded and open-hearted to the prospect of love."

  Jasper's mouth lifted into a soft smile, and he tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear. "I had the impression that you were not a proponent of romance or love matches."

  "Perhaps you are changing my mind."

  "Let me see how much I can change it tonight, my beautiful wife." He helped her to don the necklace and then kissed her, so softly, her heart began to melt for him just that little bit more.

  As he swept her into his arms and carried her through to the bedchamber, she rather thought her wedding night might just be the very best night of her life.

  Chapter Six

  When Tessa finally stirred the next morning, it was with a yawn followed by a very happy, very satisfied smile. Her wedding night had been both glorious and a revelatory experience in more ways than one. Jasper's skills as a lover had surpassed every expectation she'd ever had. The sensations he'd aroused in her… The wicked things they'd done. She blushed just thinking about them, but somehow it also felt so very right. And to think she'd contemplated living an entire life without having experienced such a wondrous thing—the feeling of giving and receiving pleasure, of being possessed and cherished.

  She doubted any other man could have made her feel so complete, and, dare she think it, loved? Not that they'd exchanged any vows of undying devotion last night, but surely she wouldn't feel so blissful and replete, like she was basking on a cloud in the light of the summer sun, if their coupling had been nothing but perfunctory and essentially meaningless.

  The ormolu clock on the mantel was striking ten o'clock when she eventually rose from the tangle of fine linen sheets. Jasper had woken at dawn and made tender love to her, yet again, before leaving her to sleep a while longer. It was a gesture she appreciated greatly. Because her husband had been nothing but thorough in his quest to demonstrate how very special lovemaking could be, she'd barely slept at all during the night.

  Still wearing her right glove, she wrapped a silk robe about herself before ringing for her newly appointed lady's maid, Lottie. While she hadn't been perturbed at all by the appearance of Jasper's injured foot, she hadn't felt comfortable enough to reveal her own disfigurement. True to his word, Jasper hadn't minded.

  Perhaps, in time, she would be able to share everything…

  Stretching, she crossed to the window and drew back the green velvet curtains. Even the December day seemed to reflect her inner joy. Between the scudding clouds, the winter sky was a brilliant blue, the freshly-fallen snow blanketing the grounds of the abbey a dazzling white. As he had kissed her goodbye, Jasper had whispered that he would see off their remaining house guests before going for a ride. Tessa knew Christopher, Emma, and Aunt Beatrice had planned to quit the abbey at an early hour and return to London, where they would stay until the day after Boxing Day, before journeying to Trevilian Hall to welcome in the New Year. She would miss them, and the opportunity to take part in the Benevolent Society's Boxing Day activities, but now that she and Jasper were beginning to forge a true connection, she relished the idea of remaining here with only her ardent husband for company.

  She smiled as she contemplated what they might do on his return. Jasper had hinted there were many more ways to make love than he'd shown her last night, and in many different places besides a bed. How deliciously wicked he was. A sudden, wholly unwanted image of Jasper with Lady Montagu intruded into her mind, and her heart twisted. No, she didn't want to think about her husband and that other woman, and what they'd done together in her art studio. Jasper had convinced her last night that he was committed to their marriage. Not all men were unfaithful.

  A knock at the door pulled Tessa from her musings. Lottie had appeared in record time—no doubt she was keen to see how her new mistress fared after her wedding night. Tessa ordered a bath—she was a little sore in unfamiliar places after so much enthusiastic bedsport—and after she'd dressed and dismissed Lottie, she sat down to a light repast of breakfast rolls and hot chocolate before the fire in the adjacent sitting room. It was already eleven o'clock, and she didn't think Jasper would be much longer. If he were anything like Christopher, he would be ravenous when he got back. She would speak with the housekeeper when she had finished her breakfast to check on the day's menu.

  Half an hour later, after she'd reviewed the menu, Jasper still hadn't returned. Ignoring the prickle of unease inside her—fruitless worrying wouldn't make the time pass any faster—Tessa ventured forth from their suite and made her way downstairs to the abbey's library, hoping to find a book to occupy her. She'd dearly love to paint a landscape portrait of the abbey and its grounds, but she hadn't yet had the opportunity to establish another studio. She was sure Jasper would let her take over one of many unused upstairs rooms. Hopefully, a north-facing one with large windows and ample light. Exploring the upper floor of the abbey was something they could, perhaps, do together, after sharing the luncheon she'd planned.

  It didn't take her long to find a novel to her taste. Arlington Abbey's library was extensive and well-catalogued. As she crossed the plush Persian rug to take a seat by the fire, she passed by Jasper's large, ornately carved oak desk. An exquisitely detailed inkstand fashioned from rosewood caught her eye. Leaning forward to examine the delicate satinwood marquetry—she wondered if it might actually be a prized Tunbridgeware piece— she noticed a piece of parchment by the corner of the inkstand. Rich, thick, cream-colored parchment bearing an embossed crest at the top that she didn't immediately recognize. A letter to Jasper. She shouldn't look.

  But then she saw her name.

  Knowing what she did was wrong, but unable to resist the sharp tug of temptation, Tessa put down her book and picked up the paper. Her stomach lurched as she began to read the flowery, decidedly feminine, handwriting.

  December 18, 1816

  My dearest Jasper,

  I would extend to you my congratulations on your impending nuptials; however, I am certain you cannot be overly happy about being tied to the likes of Miss Penrose. (I know she is an artist of some talent, but from what I've heard, she is a frightful bluestocking. Her family might be well-connected, but aside from that, I don't think she has much else to recommend her).

  Are the rumors I've heard about her really true? That she has a deformed hand?

  While part of me reels in horror at the very thought, I will also confess that I did laugh when I heard what had happened to you, you poor, poor man. However, I am sure I can take your mind off your unfortunate marriage when you visit after Twelfth Night. I shall leave it up to you to choose the date and time of our next encounter, but please know, I am counting the days until I see you again.

  Your most ardent admirer,

  Cordelia,

  Baroness Montagu

  Tessa dropped the parchment onto the desk and pressed her hands to her stomach in a futile effort to quell the swirling nausea inside her. Oh, God. Surely Jasper wasn't planning to see that woman. Not after yesterday. And especially not after last night.

  But why keep such a cruel and ter
rible letter? Why not tear it up or burn it?

  Her husband must have kept it for a reason…

  I'm not enough for him.

  Tessa put her gloved hand to her mouth to stifle a welling sob.

  She was such a foolish ninny. She'd married a hardened rake and had witnessed how much he'd enjoyed Lady Montagu's lusty ministrations. It shouldn't really be a surprise to her that Jasper would consider pursuing the baroness, or any other woman, for that matter.

  But oh, how it hurt her to the very bone.

  She couldn't stay.

  Swallowing her useless tears, she hastily quit the library and returned to her room to change into the warmest travelling clothes she owned. She knew Jasper would come looking for her, but until she'd had time to regroup and harden her wounded heart, she couldn't bear the idea of facing him.

  It looked like she would be spending Christmas in London after all.

  ***

  "Lady Arlington went where? To the village? Did she say why?"

  Lottie, his wife's young maid, flinched beneath the barrage of questions. "I think she went to the village, my lord," she replied, twisting her hands in her apron. "At least that's what Jem the gardener told me, that she'd set out for Little Arlington on foot about two hours ago. She… she asked me to help her change into her woolen travelling gown, cloak, and bonnet. I think she also took her reticule and a muff. She didn't give a reason, and I didn't think it was my place to ask, but…" The girl swallowed nervously. "Forgive me for saying so, but I thought she looked upset. Her eyes were red. Like she'd been crying."

  Crying. Good God. What the hell had happened in the last few hours, between when he'd left Tessa sleepy and satisfied in their bed, in this very room, and now? Was she ill? Had she received something distressing in the post?