Page 44 of To Wager with Love

Minerva swallowed and took the card from his hand, wishing she wasn’t wearing gloves as their fingers brushed. “Thank you so much,” she said, her voice rather faint. “I shall do so.”

He nodded, put his card case away, and gave her a slight bow. “Good day to you, Miss Butler.”

“Good day, Mr de Beauvoir,” Minerva said, still feeling a little dazed.

She watched him stride away, his tall and rather gaunt frame disappearing into the crowds, as she clutched the card tightly in her grasp.

Chapter 13

My dear Harriet,

How are you? What is happening with St Clair? Are you to marry?

I feel like the most abominable friend for leaving you alone at such a time. I ought not to have allowed you to have talked me into leaving. Dearest Harry, do please tell me everything, and you need only say if you want me to return. You may rely upon me to do so at once.

― Excerpt of a letter from Mrs Kitty Baxter to Miss Harriet Stanhope.

1st September 1814, Holbrooke House, Sussex.

Harriet looked up, the discreet cough beside her ear jolting her out of her reading.

“Oh, Jasper,” she said with a sigh. “You startled me.”

“Really?” he replied, looking sceptical. “You were so engrossed I’m fairly certain a meteorite could have fallen on the Wells and you’d not have batted an eyelid.”

She gave a little huff of laughter and shook her head. “True enough. How long have I been here?”

“Half an hour at least, I’d say.”

He gave her a fond smile which did odd things to her stomach.

“Did you know, scientists used to believe meteorites came from volcanoes on the moon, or were caused by lightning or condensation in clouds? That is, until a fifty-six pound meteorite fell in a field by Wold Cottage in Yorkshire. It fell out of a clear blue sky and left a crater twenty inches deep! What a shock that must have been.”

“I didn’t know that,” Jasper said, grinning at her. “But I can’t tell you how much I love that you do.”

Harriet flushed, wondering if he was teasing her, but he seemed sincere.

“Come along,” he said, taking the book from her hand.

“What are you doing with that?” she protested.

“Buying it for you, naturally.”

She stared up at him, a strange feeling in her chest which was at once alarming and inevitable. “You don’t need to do that.”

He gave her an odd look, then leaned towards her and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I promised to make you happy, Harriet. If books make you happy, I’ll spend every penny I have on them.”

“Jasper,” she said, uncertain of what she wanted to say, but the words died at the look in his eyes.

“As long as you remember to look up from time to time and remember I’m there, it will be money well spent.”

Harriet sighed and contemplated the likelihood of being able to withstand Jasper’s brand of sweet-natured charm for more than another few hours without caving in and agreeing to anything he wanted. The blasted man was a menace, and yet a little flutter of something warm and hopeful unfurled in her chest and she could not help but smile at him.

“Thank you, Jasper. You’re rather hard to forget, you know.”

She knew; she’d tried often enough and for more years than she cared to contemplate.

“I should think so,” he retorted, before going off to buy her book.