Undone by His Kiss (31 page)

“I heard her pacing earlier so I knocked on the door, hoping I would convince her to come downstairs. She didn’t answer, though I heard her talking inside. I couldn’t decipher what she said, but it sounded as if she repeated the same thing over and over in argument with herself. I thought if I coaxed her downstairs we might share tea or play cards to pass the time. Earlier in the day she appeared much more right minded. I’m not sure what set her into a fit this evening.”

Emily grimaced at the words, wondering all the while what Jasper might surmise from the situation. Wasn’t it horrifying enough he knew her mother was a nobleman’s cast-off mistress? One of many, apparently. Didn’t that knowledge serve as just punishment without an additional layer of embarrassment?

“Perhaps I will be able to calm her emotions.” Doubt, rooted in repeated failure, riddled the statement. She turned to speak to Jasper who up to this point had remained unnaturally quiet, but from shock, distaste or consideration, she couldn’t know. “I must see to my mother.” The words were said with practical finality.

“Then I’ll wait below to affirm all is right.” He nodded, as if to imply no further discussion was needed.

But there was.

“There is no reason for you to stay on. This is a personal matter.” She pushed the words out through clenched teeth, harsher than intended and Jasper’s eyes flared at her stern reprimand.

It took him half a moment to respond, his husky murmur meant for her ears alone. “Do you not realize the depth of my feelings? I’m here to assist if your mother’s condition proves difficult.”

Her chest clenched at the thought he might see her mother in disarray, but then all thought evaporated as Bianca swept into the room.

“Emily, what has happened here?” Her mother threw a critical glance from Emily’s muddied slippers to the unkempt hair trailing from her bonnet.

“I fell, Mother, but I am quite fine. Mr. St. David kindly helped me when I might have become injured.” She strove for a soft even tone that brooked no further discussion, if that was at all possible.

Interesting how the circumstances had reversed, her mother’s concern centered on her daughter when Emily silently prayed there would be no hysterics forthcoming.

Bianca turned to Jasper, the same judicious speculation lighting her eyes as she took in the scene more fully. “Then I owe you my gratitude, Mr. St. David.” She came forward with her hands outstretched as if to capture one of Jasper’s in appreciation. “My daughter is my heart. Were something to happen to her I’d be devastated. I love her dearly.”

Her mother’s unexpected and earnest divulgences struck Emily as odd, yet they filled a chasm in her soul she long ago deemed hopeless and lost. She hadn’t heard a profound expression of affection from her mother in too long ago to remember. She could only stare in her mother’s wake as she approached Jasper.

“Then indeed we have something in common.” He smiled a broad grin which reached his eyes and enchanted any recipient lucky enough to have the gift bestowed.

“Come, Mr. St. David.” Bianca gestured for them to enter the sitting room with haste. “I believe we have much to discuss.”

“I agree.” He paused, his smile a sincere entreaty as he glanced in Emily’s direction.

Mary left to prepare refreshments and they all moved into the sitting room where Jasper continued to charm Bianca as Emily watched with sagacious caution. Her mother was dressed in a prim gown of ivory and moss green, every button in place, no visible sign of discontent revealed. She sat poised on the edge of her chair, hands folded neatly in her lap, her rapt interest fixed to the conversation. Could it be all her mother needed was the attention of a gentleman to smooth her ruffled feathers this afternoon or would Emily witness this scene unravel, unable to prevent disaster because Jasper insinuated himself into their private difficulties?

At a loss to intercede, Emily silently rejoiced with her mother’s distinct assurance that she cherished their relationship and wished to protect her daughter’s interests. It had been so long, so very long, while Bianca nursed the sorrow precipitated by her father’s abandonment, that she and her mother had grown distant, separated by a complicated wall of hurt and disappointment, neither able to reconcile the emotions which erected the division in the first place.

And true, while Emily had attended her own misery and masked it in anger and resentment, her mother had internalized that same loss and layered it with years of distraught tension, useless hope and heart-aching rejection.

Still where was the harm in allowing her mother this indulgence? Perhaps Jasper would come to a better understanding of the situation. As long as Bianca kept her emotions in check, and Jasper didn’t introduce a subject that displeased her mother and everyone trod with care…

Mary entered with the tea service and a small tray of apricot tarts. Emily watched with equal measures elation and prudence as refreshments were distributed and Jasper continued to explain the accident in the thoroughfare, the result of their shambled attire and his expedient rescue. The charming scoundrel was building himself up as a hero, although the description aptly fitted. Bianca’s face displayed a shade of repletion Emily had never observed, all at once softened and if possible, almost younger, and more vivid.

“I insist you accept.”

Lost in reflective ruminations, Emily snapped her attention to the conversational exchange.

“Thank you. We kindly will attend. It’s time I ventured out to a social gathering and this invitation supplies a provident excuse for a trip to the modiste, long past due for my daughter as well.” The trilling end to that sentence aptly hit home as everyone’s eyes skimmed the length of Emily’s skirts to punctuate the pronouncement at her muddied hems. Meanwhile, Bianca’s verve continued, the note of excitement building toward the end of the sentence. “One never knows who one might meet at a quality social.”

A swift twist of dread caught Emily mid-breath. Her mother had a gleam in her eye, all too familiar as when she stood near the window in hope to see her lover’s carriage arrive. Dear lord, what had Jasper instigated? One glance at her mother’s expression had every forecast of doom shooting through Emily’s mind faster than the ability to process them. Jasper initiated the trouble with one question, one tap of the front domino which inherently struck every other in line, setting off a chain reaction that she would have to manage somehow, her mother prone to perseverate on the event until it occurred.

“We’ll keep it small and intimate. Family, mostly.” Jasper dared a quick look in her direction and Emily turned away or else expose barely controlled anger, no matter it was misplaced. “My brother, Dashwood, and his lovely wife, Wilhelmina, have recently renovated our family estate, Kirby Park. I’m certain they’d enjoy a small dinner party to re-open the house to society and I’m equally anxious to introduce your lovely daughter.”

“That sounds wonderful.” Bianca’s voice rose, the giddiness in her reply on cue with the jump in Emily’s pulse.

How dare he? What was he doing? He couldn’t barge into their lives like this. He had no idea of her mother’s fragility or erratic behavior, and worse, his automatic authority over the situation seemed as though a noose of control; one which Emily had vowed to avoid and now tightened around her neck with each passing minute.

True, with prudence she might have elucidated the situation and informed Jasper in more specific terms of his mother’s delicate condition, but it was too late for regret. She had to end this charade as soon as possible.

“Stop.” Her voice broke through the conversation and she prayed she hid the hysteria that roiled in her stomach. At first neither her mother nor Jasper heard, so she repeated the command and rose to her feet in such a rush, the tea tray rattled on the occasional table near her knees. “Stop.” She held the floor now. “We shan’t be attending a dinner party at Kirby Park.”

The room fell silent while all attention riveted to her defiant objection.

“Emily.” Her mother’s eyes spoke volumes, every stringent rule of female etiquette flashing in violent warning. “Please mind your tone. Whatsoever has upset you?”

Jasper rose, more in supplication than protocol. He canted his head to the side and studied her face as if trying to read her mind or decipher her emotions; and Emily examined him in return. She saw only kindness and understanding, and a little voice inside her head canted ‘
Fool, fool, don’t betray the one man who offers honest affection, who enables you to believe in true love
’, but she shoved the reprimand aside, too far gone in fear and emotion and the “what ifs” that plagued her daily.

“If I may speak to your daughter alone, I believe we will come to an understanding.” He spoke in a sincere tone and to Emily’s surprise her mother complied, making a show of leaving the door open as she left despite no one else lived in the house to worry over propriety.

Emily launched into defense as soon as her mother’s shadow disappeared. “You can’t force your invitation upon mother and me. Don’t you understand? Why would you offer my mother this dangerous opportunity when already she struggles daily? You can’t use love to control me, Jasper. You can’t convince me that everything will turn out fine. What of your family? What will they think?” She’d rushed into her deflection so quickly she’d left herself out of air and for a long moment, she struggled to find her breathing rhythm.

Extraordinary silence enveloped them. While she’d emptied her spleen of fear and distress, Jasper had remained quiet, his expression unreadable. So silent, in fact, Emily imagined she could hear all kinds of noises within her body, her heart cracking a bit, her brain tick tick ticking away at reason, her pulse rushing through her veins in a sycophantic rhythm
foolish foolish foolish.
In that, silence became suffocating and she forced herself to match Jasper’s stare, whether for a lifeline or rebuttal, she couldn’t say.

The ever-present gleam in his eyes had vanished, his lips pressed together in a firm line of disapproval or disappointment or perhaps, sympathy, yet he continued to watch her with an intensity so thick it felt as though she’d become blanketed with self-consciousness beneath his scrutiny.

Truly, what did he expect? She’d never known the luxury of love without a handsome price. She’d never experienced unconditional lasting affection. Her father had abandoned her. Her mother, in all significant manner, had left as well. Were she to offer her heart to Jasper and he changed his mind once influenced by his brother, or worse, altered his feelings and pitied her, she would never recover from the heartache. Even a novice investor knew when a risk proved too dangerous, by sheer flaw bound to fail.

And with his silence, shame followed most thoroughly. For he’d offered genuine emotion and she’d rejected him in acerbic undeserving fashion.

At last, as he was the only sensible person in the room, his words broke the quiet.

“My invitation stands as do my affections, but the decision is yours, Emily. Matters of the heart are not those to be deluded, persuaded, or divested. The stakes are too high and the reward too great. When the interest is pure, one entrusts their love to be cherished.”

He left the room directly after, not waiting for a sharp retort or conciliatory reply. And in a disturbing and unsettling note of irony, Emily regretted he hadn’t addressed her as Miss Shaw. She’d grown accustomed to the endearing penchant of his using the formality and now missed the precious sound of it coming from his lips.

Chapter 31

Emily watched her mother twirl in front of the modiste’s mirrors, angled to offer perspective from multiple vantage points. The gown under inspection, a frothy design of dusky lilac with intricate embroidered trim at the neckline and hem, complimented her mother’s hair color and shed years from her complexion. Assured Bianca would have selected fabric in any shade of green wrapped around the bolts lining the walls, Emily was surprised when her mother spied the lilac silk and declared her choice. She’d not regretted the decision in the four days that had passed and now, sequestered in the modiste’s dressing room for their final fittings, a genuine smile graced Emily’s face. “You look lovely.”

“Not nearly as beautiful as you appeared in your dress. I can hardly wait until Mr. St. David sees you walk through the doorway—”

“Mother!” An incongruous thrill shimmied through her despite she discouraged her mother’s excitement with an exhilarated reprimand. She hadn’t heard from Jasper aside from his invitation which arrived on schedule two days past. She hadn’t dared visit Bond Street either.

She never should have doubted him. Something innate insisted Jasper always kept his word, never defaulted on a trust, and honored above all else, the simple truth of things. Perhaps in her heart she’d known it all along, but with damnable stubbornness pushed his gleaming chivalry away. She could only hope he’d remained as open-minded as he’d boasted, now that she and her mother would be visiting Kirby Park in less than six hours.

Of course, once they finished with their shopping, she had one important message, both apology and entreaty, left to compose. With any hope, Jasper would receive and open it before the night’s festivities began and then, if he truly loved her, he would forgive her wretched mistake.

“Absolutely prime.” Jasper slued his eyes to each corner in the foyer as he inspected the results earned from a bevy of footmen and maids who decorating Kirby Park in flourished anticipation of the Dashwood dinner party. Fresh flower bouquets brightened every crystal vase and ornamental urn, their vivid colors a sharp contrast to the mahogany furniture laced with embroidered doilies in white and pale pink. Petite garlands of violets, primrose, and rosemary hung above the main door welcoming guests in aromatic greeting as per Wilhelmina’s direction. Every bit of marble and brass had been polished to a high shine and Jasper exhaled a prideful breath, his childhood home restored to its original beauty, even the faded portrait of his father having been retouched and revived.

He noted two servants as they hurried by, their livery as pristine as their focus, intent on the dining room where Jasper knew an elaborate table for twenty lay in wait. Later, when the guests had arrived and the meal enjoyed, Jasper hoped to finagle time alone with Emily. He owed her an apology for his aggressive assertion she attend this gathering with her mother, although he couldn’t muster complete regret over the situation as he ached to see her, the four days passed seeming more a lifetime since he’d glimpsed her smile or tasted her kiss.