“Have you sent that letter to Miss Fleming?” He’d dashed off a missive politely stating that he’d call on her brother in three days if she did not signify a change of mind in the meantime.
“Yes, my lord.”
“Good. Good. I think this engagement will take. I have a feeling about it.”
“A feeling, my lord?”
“Yes,” Jasper said. He took up a long-handled brush and ran it across the top of his toe. “Like the one I had a fortnight ago when I wagered half a reegered hguinea on that long-necked chestnut.”
Pynch cleared his throat. “I believe the chestnut came up lame.”
“Did it?” Jasper waved a hand. “No matter. One should never compare ladies to horses, in any event. The point I’m trying to make is that we are already three hours engaged, and Miss Fleming hasn’t yet called it off. You’re impressed, I’m sure.”
“A positive sign, my lord, but may I point out that Miss Templeton waited until your wedding day to break the engagement.”
“Ah, but in this case, it was Miss Fleming herself who brought up the idea of marriage.”
“Indeed, my lord?”
Jasper paused in scrubbing his left foot. “Not that I’d want that fact to leave this room.”
Pynch stiffened. “No, my lord.”
Jasper winced. Damn, he’d insulted Pynch. “No good would come of hurting the lady’s feelings, even if she did rather fling herself at my feet.”
“Fling, my lord?”
“In a manner of speaking.” Jasper gestured with the long-handled brush, spraying a nearby chair with water. “She seemed to be under the impression that I was desperate to be married and therefore might take a chance on her.”
Pynch arched an eyebrow. “And you didn’t correct the lady?”
“Pynch, Pynch, haven’t I told you never to contradict a lady? It’s ungentlemanly and a waste of time to boot—they’ll just go on believing what they want anyway.” Jasper scrunched his nose at the bath brush. “Besides, I have to get married sometime. Wed and beget as all my noble forefathers have done. It’s no use trying to avoid the chore. A male child or two—preferably with at least half a brain in their head—must be fathered to carry on the ancient and moldy Vale name. This way it saves me months of having to go out and court another chit.”
“Ah. Then one lady would do as well as any other in your view, my lord?”
“Yes,” Jasper said, then immediately changed his mind. “No. Damn you, Pynch, for your lawyerly logic. Actually, there’s something about her. I’m not sure how to describe it. She’s not exactly the lady I’d choose, but when she stood there, looking so very brave and at the same time frowning at me as if I’d spat in front of her . . . Well, I was rather charmed, I think. Unless it was the lingering aftereffects of the whiskey from last night.”
“Naturally, my lord,” Pynch murmured.
“Anyway. What I was trying to say was that I hope this engagement ends with me safely wed. Otherwise I shall very soon have a reputation as a rotten egg.”
“Indeed, my lord.”
Jasper frowned at the ceiling. “Pynch, you are not to agree with me when I compare myself to a rotten egg.”
“No, my lord.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, my lord.”
“One can only pray that Miss Fleming will not meet any curates in the coming weeks before the wedding. Especially yellow-haired ones.”
“Quite, my lord.”
“D’you know,” Jasper said musingly, “I don’t believe I’ve ever met a curate I liked.”
“Indeed, my lord?”
“They always seem to be lacking a chin.” Jasper fingered his own rather long chin. “Perhaps it’s some type of necessary requirement to enter the English clergy. Do you think that’s possible?”
“Possible, yes. Likely, no, my lord.”
“Hmm.”
On the other side of the room, Pynch transferred a stack of linens to the top shelf of the wardrobe. “Will you be at home today, my lord?”
“Alas, no. I have other business to attend to.”
“Would your business involve that man in Newgate Prison?”
Jasper switched his gaze from the ceiling to his valet. Pynch’s usually wooden expression had a bit of squint about the eyes, which was Pynch’s version of a worried face.
“I’m afraid so. Thornton’s to be tried soon, and he’s sure to be convicted and hanged. Once he’s gone, any information he has dies with him.”
Pynch crossed the room with a large bath sheet. “Always assuming he has any information to impart.”
Jasper stepped from the tub and took the sheet. “Yes, always assuming that.”
Pynch watched him as he dried off, that same squint in his eyes. “Pardon me, my lord, I don’t like to speak when it isn’t my place—”
“And yet you will anyway,” Jasper muttered.
His manservant continued as if he hadn’t heard. “But I am worried that you are becoming obsessed with this man. He’s a known liar. What makes you think he’ll speak the truth now?”
“Nothing.” Jasper threw aside the towel and strode to a chair where his clothes lay and began dressing. “He is a liar and a rapist and a murderer and God only knows what else. Only a fool would trust his word. But I cannot let him go to the gallows without at least trying to learn the truth from him.”
“I fear that he is merely toying with you for his own amusement.”
“You’re no doubt correct, Pynch, as you usually are.” Jasper didn’t look at the valet as he pulled a shirt over his head. He’d met Pynch after the massacre of the 28th Regiment of Foot at Spinner’s Falls. Pynch had not fought in the battle. The valet didn’t have the same drive to find out who had betrayed the regiment. “But, sadly, reason does not matter. I must go.”
Pynch sighed and brought him his shoes. “Very well, my lord.”
Jasper sat to"0%Jasper draw on his buckle shoes. “Buck up, Pynch. The man’ll be dead in another sennight.”
“As you say, my lord,” Pynch muttered as he picked up the debris of the bath.
Jasper finished dressing in silence and then went to his dresser to comb and club his hair back.
Pynch held out his coat. “I trust you haven’t forgotten, my lord, that Mr. Dorning has made another request for your presence on the Vale lands in Oxfordshire.”