“Are you going to leave me on the edge of the dance floor awaiting a partner?”
A young man stood just behind her, staring at Jasper with raised eyebrows. Jasper nodded to him as he increased the distance between himself and Gwen. “I believe you have a more eager gentleman in the wings, Lady Granville.”
Annabel was still on the floor, this time with the Duke of Chippenham, and she looked far from pleased about it. The man had a reputation for drinking heavily and a love of cigars.
Just as Jasper reached the row of ferns and the young ladies guarded by their chaperones, a commotion drew all eyes to the dancers. He turned just in time to see Annabel march from her partner, leaving him to limp from the floor alone.
She kept moving, leaving the room with Lady Carmichael hurrying behind. All Jasper could do was stand and watch. “Spaulding should have known better than to hand her over to Chippenham.”
“And you should know better than to think he had a choice,” Lord Carmichael said as he walked away. “I’ll get you a drink. We may be here awhile.”
They were on their second round when Lady Carmichael returned, her eyes flashing lightning. “She’ll be down in a moment, once she’s calm.”
“What happened?” Jasper asked. It had to be something the duke had done. Annabel was far too proper to leave the floor in the middle of a dance.
The lady glared across the room. “He made her an offer that a lady should never hear, much less repeat.”
“I see.” Jasper stood. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll wait for her at the stairs.” He’d replaced Chippenham in Gwendolyn Harris’s bed. It was a fair wager than Chippenham wanted some of his own back.
“You can’t throttle a duke in public, Ramsbury.”
He nodded to Carmichael. “Given his limp, I believe Annabel defended herself quite well.”
He couldn’t understand, much less explain, the need to ensure she was well or, if not, to whisk her away without the stares and gossip that dogged them both.
There were many things he’d expected from their marriage. The most obvious was that there were more people in the house. New maids, his sisters-in-law, his wife at the breakfast table. The creak in the floor as she moved through her adjoining suite. He’d even expected the locked door.
He hadn’t reckoned with being comforted by it. If Annabel had been willing to share his bed from the first night, he would have suspected her protestations to be a fraud. Worse, he’d have wondered how far she would be willing to go to gain the information Spencer had sent her to learn.
Jasper gave up waiting and began climbing the stairs toward the ladies’ retiring room. He hadn’t expected the compulsion to tell her every detail of his day, as though it would prove to her that he was not visiting whichever mistress he was rumored to have. He found himself smiling as he listened to her guide the younger girls through their lessons or when she asked his mother for advice.
At the top of the stairs, he looked for the best place to hide, certain she would be there. A flash of blue caught his eye, and the pearls in her hair caught the candlelight.
The same light bounced from Reginald Spencer’s almost-bald head.
“What do you mean you’ve found nothing?” Spencer bit out in a whisper. “My man in Cardiff says Yarwood was there just last week with so many coins it was a wonder he could walk.”
“Between fittings, social calls with Lady Lambourn, and learning how to run the household, I am not in a position to lurk outside doors and listen at keyholes,” Annabel replied with just as much venom.
Despite the circumstances, Jasper was proud of her for holding her own. Still, he slipped into the shadows and approached on quiet feet.
She drew a deep breath. “If you would care to know, there is a speculation scheme afoot to cheat foolish gentlemen by—”
“Unless the gentleman is Ramsbury, I care nothing for ton gossip.” Spencer’s eyes narrowed. “Have you fallen for your husband’s appeal as well as his pocketbook?”
Jasper tightened his fingers into a fist. Annabel’s wardrobe bills had been meager in comparison with Mother’s and the girls’—and they already had updated closets. Her frugality spoke of some sort of loyalty.
Didn’t it?
She snapped her closed fan against her skirts. “How dare you ask that when you are well aware of why and how I came to be in this position.” Even from his hiding place, Jasper could see her knuckles whiten. “If I am a poor and useless wife, he will not trust me. If Jas—Lord Ramsbury has no faith in me, I will not find the answers you seek.”
Spencer pulled his tailcoat straight. “So long as you remember the stakes should you fail.”
“As though I could forget them.”
He walked around her but stopped at her shoulder. “Find me my answers, Lady Ramsbury.”
“I will find the truth.” Annabel’s spine was straight, and the tilt of her head reminded Jasper of the night she’d scolded him at his own dance.
Her bravery lasted until Spencer left the hallway, then she sagged against the wall and put her head in her hand.
Were Kit here, he would insist on storming from the shadows and demanding answers. It likely wouldn’t take much to make Annabel confess. Jasper would know what Spencer wanted. From there, it would be easy to guess the man’s scheme. The marriage could be quietly annulled with the flourish of a pen.
He stepped from the shadows. “There you are.”
She turned on him, her deep brown eyes wide and sparkling too brightly. “I’m sorry.”
It would be so easy…
“Chippenham is a sheep’s arse. Always has been. I’m certain you’re not the first lady to leave him stranded at a ball.” The quirk of her lips gave him permission to smile as he offered his arm. “Shall we go home?”
*
For the second time in a few short hours, the Ramsbury carriage loomed before Annabel like a prison cart.
Foolish girl. You dreaded a dance and gossip. And now fate has dropped you in a much worse dilemma.
How long had Jasper been in the hallway? How much had he overheard? And why, oh why, hadn’t she told Reginald Spencer to go jump in the narrowest part of the Thames?
