Page 31 of Love and Other Disasters

Jasper gulped. Isabelle’s cries carried farther than he’d ever imagined they might. At least Threadwell thought it merely a memory. Perhaps it would be best if the child slept in the nursery with the other two from now on. But that meant the governess would always watch over Isabelle, and Sophie might not agree to that. Yet, that is what a nursery was meant for—for children and the ones who looked after them. He supposed that meant himself now, too. Would Sophie mind if he spent his nights in that part of the house with her?

Probably not. He laughed and glanced at Threadwell again. “You have three children?”

“Yes,” he said with a careless shrug. “Illegitimate, but I’m fond of them.”

“Why did you never marry her?” Jasper had met Threadwell’s mistress and liked her. She was elegant and witty and undemanding.

“I might still inherit,” Threadwell suggested with a tight smile. “I’ll need a wealthy bride then to unravel the damage my brother has done.”

“Only if your brother dies,” Jasper pointed out.

“Yes, and I think my chances of that improve every year.” Threadwell straightened. “He’s reckless, drinks to excess. His wife won’t share his bed, so he’ll never have a son or heir by her.”

“There is still another brother ahead of you in the succession, don’t forget,” Jasper said.

“That bumbling idiot would ruin us entirely within a month,” Threadwell complained. “I could never allow him to inherit. There are ways to ensure he never will.”

Jasper drew back, startled. “I suggest you not say that out loud to anyone but me.”

“I’m sure you’ve thought the same thing about your brothers, too.” Threadwell removed a flask from his pocket and drank. “They’ve treated you as shoddily as I’ve been treated by mine.”

“My father was far worse,” Jasper said, refusing the flask when offered. “There’s nothing my brothers have that I could ever want so badly as to commit murder to get it.”

Threadwell smiled and took another long swig. “Then you’re a better man than I, my friend.”

Jasper made up an excuse to walk away from Threadwell before he heard any more that might incriminate the fellow later.

Jasper glanced up at Ravenswood. He did not want this estate the way Threadwell had suggested he might. Jasper wanted…something more than what he had now, though. Unfortunately, he did not know what that more could be yet.

But when he came clean about the child’s existence to his brother’s, things would have to change. The duke might not want him or Isabelle staying at Ravenswood, and she couldn’t be kept a secret forever. He wanted her provided for, too.

Isabelle was yet another reason he needed money. He would need enough for her dowry, so that she could make a good match one day when she was old enough. She would need an education and love and…well, far more than he’d imagined ever thinking about. He’d have to ask Sophie what that entirety might be.

Later.

When he might find them alone again.

Chapter Ten

Sophie leaned toward the maid. “Do you have questions?”

The maid Kate shook her head. “No, Mrs. Radcliffe.”

“Excellent.”

Sophie slipped from the nursery and rushed toward her own chamber. In the last hours, she’d made several brief excursions through the upper floors and attic space of Ravenswood and uncovered a remarkable collection of mismatched items. She had a feathered headdress of what she thought was from swans. A woman’s mask had not been found, but she had found a length of black mourning lace that she could drape across her face to wear as a veil that suited her better than Lord Jasper’s mask ever could.

Sophie had everything she needed now. Last week, while confined to the upper floor, Sophie had stumbled upon a lovely gown that had been left behind by a previous guest. A red dress, so sheer it was almost indecent, hung forgotten on a peg inside an unused guest chamber. No one was likely to return to collect it anytime soon.

The gown had been soft as it ran through her fingers, with the silk ties teasing her skin. The last time Sophie had worn a gown of this exceptional quality was at the Violet Gardens Pleasure House Masquerade Ball. Madam Clover had insisted she dress the part of a lady of the establishment to blend in—if being seen by her guests could not be helped.

This was indeed such an occasion when a gown like that was needed, but there was no one but herself with the necessary qualifications to watch over those poor hired women. Sophie could not appear downstairs in her governess clothing or her nightclothes again.

She slipped into her room and locked the door behind her. She was excited and couldn’t keep the smile from her face. She took the gown down from the hook behind her door where she’d hung the gown hours ago and headed for her small mirror. She held the dress before her and admired the color against her skin and what little she could see of herself. With her hair arranged properly, she could appear to belong. With a little cooperation and instruction, Sophie could also help those poor women manage their would-be lovers better, too.

There was no need for them to deal alone with an amorous fellow who wanted their favors too frequently. They should also not be wandering off where anything could happen to them in the dark. Falling over the staircase balustrade or being set on fire due to carelessness could indeed be prevented under her watchful gaze.

Sophie threw the gown across her narrow bed and then stripped down to her plain and sensible undergarments. Unfortunately, she would have to forgo most of them to carry this off. Sophie redressed herself, aware the festivities were soon to get underway. The gentlemen were at dinner presently. The ladies were not required to join them. They had not dined together last night, either. They were to wait for her arrival and her little talk. Sophie hoped that went well, given they’d no reason to go along with her suggestions, which were only for their protection.