He drew a deep breath. “For years I wished for an older brother.”

“Maybe two.” Annabel’s smile teased his skin. “You could have been third.”

“God, no.” Jasper’s laughter shook the bed. “Can you imagine me in the pulpit every Sunday?” He kissed the top of her head. “Besides, I don’t think I could manage being that poor.” He sighed. “But soldiering…”

Her knee grazed his thigh, but she stayed quiet. Only her uneven breath told him she was still awake, listening to him ramble as the gin wore off.

“Rather than declaring Kit his heir and saving him from war, Edgar paid for his commission.”

“Did Kit wish to be saved?”

“He says no. That he told Edgar he didn’t want to be an earl, and Edgar went along with it.”

“I see.” She raised her head and rested her chin on the back of her hand. “Who are you angry with, then?”

Her deep brown eyes held his. The mattress was soft against his back, and the fire warmed the room. Her body was warmer still, soft and yielding.

“Both,” he whispered. “I had to stay behind and watch Kit and Gareth sail for Egypt.”

“Gareth?”

“Claudette’s husband.” He twined a lock of her thick hair around his finger, then unfurled it, only to repeat the action.

“He died in the war?”

He shook his head against the pillow. “Afterward. He and Kit came home whole and safe. I would have, too.”

Her sharp inhale shifted her ribs away from his. “You wanted to go?”

“I thought it was only fair.”

“Jasper,” she scolded him quietly for the lie.

“Fine.” He met her arched eyebrow with one of his own. “My titles, which I have simply because I am the only male of my generation on my father’s side of the family, give me every luxury but adventure.” He put a finger to her lips to stop her protest. “And, before you say it, I know war is not an adventure. However, I’m allowed to go to the Continent to shop, or for sex, but I’m forced to stay in England while young men without the benefit of birth or fortune go fight for something vastly more important. Something their government, of which I am a part, has ordered them to do.”

Annabel shifted against him, rising just enough to press a soft kiss against his lips. Her palm cradled his jaw. “I, for one, am glad you didn’t go to war, whatever the reason.”

There was nothing but sincerity in her eyes and her words. It was the same every time he looked at her, every time he held her. Whatever misguided belief had brought her into his life, she offered something he’d never expected to find—a place to be himself. He couldn’t imagine being anywhere else.

“So am I.” He drew another deep breath. Once he put this wish in the air, he was committed. “But I want to do something to help them.”

She yawned and snuggled closer. “Then that’s what you’ll do.”

Chapter Eighteen

“Bath was busier than I’d expected it to be during the Season,” Mother said as she poured more tea. “I suppose everyone took the opportunity to leave London during the break.”

“I’m relieved to hear it.” Annabel took the cup and shifted her attention to her sisters. “Did you enjoy yourselves?”

Rachel bounced against the sofa cushions the way she’d done last Christmas when she received her first piece of jewelry—a delicate diamond bracelet. “The Lambourn townhouse is lovely, and so many of the young ladies accepted our invitation for tea.” Her eyes went wide. “You don’t think the countess will mind that we entertained, do you? She did tell us to treat it as though it was ours.”

“She will be happy that you heeded her instructions.” As long as Father didn’t follow them and steal the silver. “Were there very many parties?”

“We had a stack of invitations waiting when we arrived.” Mother was almost as excited as Rachel. “The girls danced almost every night. Peter Drew, the heir to the Earl of Makepeace, danced with Rachel at each opportunity. The last night we were there he asked for two sets.”

“Then Madame Fleur’s hours of lessons have been worth the torture.” Annabel winked at her sister and put her still-full, cooling teacup on the table.

It wasn’t the tea’s fault. It was a higher quality than they’d been drinking when she’d left, and they had cubes of sugar now rather than honey.

The tea service unnerved her. Her mother had two. The family service was heavy, plain pottery made by a tenant years before Annabel had been born, likely several barons ago. The inside of the pot was mud brown from years of use, and the large cups fit to your hand to warm your palm and provide comfort on cold days. The guest service was fine porcelain, hand-painted and gilt-edged. It was lovely, but the cups were too small to be satisfying. They were also difficult to hold. Mother only pulled them from the pantry when she wanted to impress a visitor.

This was the guest service.

A painting opposite her caught Annabel’s eye. It had always hung upstairs in Mother’s room. It was her favorite. It was Annabel’s, too. She’d spent hours staring into the rolling green landscape, imagining the soft grass against her feet and the rain-scented wind in her loose hair.

It looked very much like Wiltshire and the Ramsbury estate.

“You’ve moved this from upstairs?”

Mother nodded. “Rebecca suggested that it would add something to this room, and I believe she was right. It’s like doing my needlework with an old friend.” She smiled up at the artwork. “It looks so much brighter since we’ve had it cleaned.”

Annabel turned her attention to her middle sister, who had yet to say anything other than hello. Rebecca wasn’t as bubbly as Rachel, and her temper matched Annabel’s—as did her wit. But she was a lovely girl, especially when she smiled, which wasn’t often of late. “And you, Rebecca?” Annabel teased. “Did you leave a smitten suitor behind.”

“No.”

“Rebecca preferred the soldiers in attendance,” Rachel said in the gossipy tone preferred by the ton. “I will say their uniforms added a bit of flash in amongst all the evening suits.”

“Their conversations were more interesting as well,” Rebecca said. “They could talk about more than horses and dance steps and how much they’d lost at cards.”

“I’m sure they were interesting, and those we met were polite and treated all the ladies well.” Mother looked over the rim of her teacup. “Many navy officers have done quite well for themselves, but I’m not certain a military man is suitable. Wouldn’t you agree?”

As the eldest, Annabel had been in this position many times before. Mother never wanted to be the one who said no, at least not on her own. Usually, her requests were small.

This one wasn’t. Given Rebecca’s rising color, she was ready for a fight. And now Annabel knew men like Yarwood. He didn’t like her, but he had always been loyal to Jasper.

“I don’t, Mother. Yes, some military men can be rogues and scoundrels, but not all of them are. Just like all young men in Society aren’t gentlemen.” Annabel nodded to her sister. “I’m glad you weren’t bored, Rebecca.”

“We saw Colonel Spencer at several events,” Rachel said. “He cuts quite a dashing figure.”

Nothing like his younger brother, then. “Sir Reginald spoke often of him and his successes. The family is quite proud of him.”

Annabel always though Sir Reginald sounded a bit like Rebecca when she thought Rachel got a prettier hat.

The clock in the hallway chimed, signaling the hour. “I must be going. Jasper will be home soon, and I need to prepare for the Bainbridges’ ball.” Father would be home soon as well.

“I’m so looking forward to it.” Rachel’s smile glittered. “Isn’t it romantic?”