“The gentleman hopes to see you immediately, my lord,” he said as Jasper took the card from the tray. “Or sooner. His exact words, m’lord.”
Jasper was given no chance to read who it was who had such an urgent need to see him. The visitor did not wait in the hall to be properly admitted. He strode into the breakfast parlor almost on the butler’s heels.
Jasper raised one eloquent eyebrow.
“Clarrie!” he said with heavy irony. He did not get to his feet. “This is an unexpected pleasure. Come in and make yourself at home. No need to stand upon ceremony here.”
Clarence Forester-Sir Clarence since the demise of his father eighteen months or so ago-hated almost more than anything else in the world to be called Clarrie. Hence Jasper had never called him anything else all their lives. He was Aunt Prunella’s beloved only son, Charlotte’s cousin, and a weasel of the first order. Jasper noted his expanding girth and thinning fair hair and florid complexion. It had been a while since he had seen the man. He was not maturing well though he could not be a day older than twenty-five.
“My dear mama and I arrived in town yesterday,” Clarence explained, eyeing an empty chair as though he thought it might collapse beneath him if he sat on it and then lowering himself onto another. “We came with all the speed we could muster as soon as we heard.”
“All the way from Kent?” Jasper asked. “Pour Sir Clarrie some coffee, if you will be so good, Horton. He looks in dire need of sustenance. Sprang your horses, did you, old boy? That was rash of you. Sprung horses have a tendency to become lame horses if they do not have very skilled hands at the ribbons.”
“Sir Clarence, that is,” Clarence said pointedly in the direction of Horton. “And bring me some porter instead.”
Jasper nodded when Horton looked his way.
“We have heard,” Clarence said, leaning back while his glass of porter was being set down in front of him, “though I am sure you will correct me if we heard wrongly as we surely must have done, Jasper. We have heard that you have brought Cousin Charlotte to London.”
Jasper looked politely at him.
“All of which goes to prove,” he said agreeably, “that your ears are in fine working order, Clarrie. Were you worried about them?”
“She is here, then?” Clarence asked.
“Body and soul,” Jasper agreed. “Mind too, I daresay. Charlotte is nobody’s genius, but Miss Daniels has educated her as well as she is able, and she is an admirable woman. They have even visited a few token galleries and museums together since coming here. I have been vastly impressed.”
Clarence drew an audible breath and swelled alarmingly. There was a thin mustache of porter on his upper lip. It made him look slightly rakish.
“It is true, then,” he said. “I hoped desperately that it was not. So did Mama. She said so all the way here in the carriage. ‘I do hope, Clarence,’ she said a dozen times if she said it at all, ‘that this is a wild-goose chase we are on, unlikely as it seems when Jasper is involved.’ I have been forced to believe a number of painful and wicked things about you in the past number of years, Jasper, try as I have to be charitable toward a man who is my uncle’s stepson. I know he was as fond of you as if you had been his own flesh and blood even if you did try his patience almost every day of your life. But this beats all. This puts you beyond the pale. This merits a visit to my great-uncle Wrayburn, much as I hesitate to disturb the peace of the old gentleman. Mama is prostrate with distress.”
“That must be uncomfortable for her,” Jasper said, folding his napkin and setting it beside his plate. “Perhaps if you were to prop up her head with some pillows, Clarrie? Or her feet? Or both? Do you have enough pillows?”
Dash it all-Aunt Prunella in town. And Clarrie. Two for the price of one. Charlotte would be wishing she had stayed at Cedarhurst. Especially as they were after her blood. No, correction-it was his blood they were after.
“Your tone of levity does you no credit, Jasper,” Clarence told him. “It never did. Uncle, alas, trusted that you would grow up given time. I knew you never would.”
“It is always an enormous satisfaction, is it not,” Jasper said lazily, “to be proved right? Especially when it is something nasty that one has predicted. If it is nasty to accuse me of being an eternal boy, that is. Perhaps you meant it as a compliment? As a suggestion that I have discovered the fountain of youth, perhaps? I shall choose to take your words as a compliment, old boy, and thank you from the bottom of my heart. You had better refill Sir Clarrie’s glass, Horton. It is dry.”
“Sir Clarence,” Clarence said through his teeth. “You must know, Jasper, that it is quite shockingly unseemly to bring a young girl to town when she has not yet made her come-out. It is enough to give any high-stickler heart palpitations and a fit of the vapors, and Mama is the highest of sticklers.”
“You had better not let Charlotte hear you refer to her as a girl, Clarrie,” Jasper said kindly, “especially a young girl. She considers herself a young lady now-with good reason, I might add. But you and your mama might decide with some relief that you have indeed been dashing after a wild goose. When you ask around, as you surely will, you will discover that Charlotte has not been seen at any ton events or done anything else that is remotely inappropriate to her age and circumstances. I may know no better, old chap-you are quite right about that-but Miss Daniels certainly does. I would warn you not to try taking her to task for any imagined improprieties. She is to be a clergyman’s bride before Christmas, and the Reverend Bellow may take it into his head to excommunicate you or some such unfortunate thing if you offend her. It is true that he is the most amiable, mild-mannered of gentlemen, but there is no saying what effect an insult to his beloved might have upon him. I would not wish to put the matter to the test myself.”
Clarence dashed the back of his hand over his mouth, obliterating the rakish mustache.
“You make a joke of everything, Jasper,” he said. “Charlotte is of impeccable lineage, and she is a considerable heiress. It is quite imperative that she not be seen in public until after she has made her curtsy to the queen next year. You have quite recklessly flouted the terms of Uncle’s will. I am here to see that you do not continue to do so. Great-Uncle Wrayburn will see to it also once I have had a word with him.”
“You will give him my regards when you call?” Jasper said pleasantly.
Throughout the visit he had been wondering why Charlotte’s aunt and cousin had suddenly exerted themselves on her behalf when they had not done so anytime during the past ten years since the death of her father or even the last five since the death of her mother. The greatest interest Lady Forester had ever shown in her niece was a lengthy letter twice a year-at Christmas and on her birthday-to admonish her to be good and virtuous and to listen to her governess more than to anyone else in her life. Jasper, the implication had always been, was the anyone else in her life.
He thought he understood now, though. Clarence had mentioned that one telling detail about Charlotte’s being a considerable heiress. And come to think of it, she had read out one passage of her aunt’s letter last Christmas-the paragraph in which Lady Forester had mentioned hearing from dear Rachel and had proceeded to assure Charlotte that if her sister would not bring her out after her eighteenth birthday, she most certainly would. Indeed, it was something she had always intended, something Charlotte’s dear papa had always intended if her mama should happen to be deceased when the time came. In the same paragraph she had mentioned that dear Clarence was eagerly looking forward to becoming reacquainted with his cousin and that he was now a fine figure of a young man and quite ready to settle down once he had met a lady worthy of him.