The Misplaced Husband, page 7
This was a nightmare—she could not dance with him!
Her skin tingled as she felt his grip tighten.
“All eyes are on us, Opal,” Jasper muttered.
Opal stopped struggling, almost tripping over her skirts as she tried to keep up with his long strides.
“Fine,” she said darkly as she reached the lines. “But this is for Coral, not you.”
A puzzled expression appeared on Jasper’s face. “Coral?”
He looked around, as though expecting their daughter to appear from an alcove.
Opal sighed. Had Jasper really been this foolish when she had married him? “You really haven’t given a second thought to our children, have you? In a few years, we will be making preparations for Coral to come out into Society, and if you want her to be accepted, then we must be. If we are even still part of Society. If we manage to survive this scandal.”
It seemed simple enough to her. Opal may not have been born in England, but she had lived here long enough to understand their foolish customs, and no matter how strange she believed them, she was not about to permit her daughter to be left outside them.
Jasper opened his mouth, doubtless to say something idiotic.
Opal tried to calm her breathing. It was just a dance.
Stepping forward, she reached out her hands as was expected in the dance, and even through Jasper’s gloves, she could feel his heat. His desire.
And now, in this dance, with the world watching—or so it seemed—Opal was forced to confront the very painful reality that now he was back, she wanted him to touch her, kiss her, caress her.
Be her husband again. The man who had been her husband.
Before Opal knew what was happening, Jasper had stepped away.
“Wh-What?” she murmured, looking around in surprise at the applause.
But of course. The dance had ended. The sensations of closeness faded as Opal was reminded that she was standing in the middle of a crowded room, with everyone in Society watching. Watching her and Jasper.
Turning to leave, Jasper was once again too quick. He captured her hand in his. “I want to show you something.”
Opal sighed heavily as she wrenched her hand free but smiled politely as so many eyes were upon them. “What?”
Jasper jerked his head toward a nearby alcove, and Opal followed him into it, retrieving her fan from the cord around her hand. For some reason, the room was remarkably hot all of a sudden.
It was a perfectly normal alcove. Opal could see nothing in it that would attract attention or interest, so why on earth had Jasper—
Jasper. He had pulled Opal into his arms before she could say a word, his lips on hers, and it was coming home and passion and disaster, and Opal could not think, only feel.
The pressure of his lips, the roughness of his desire, the way his fingers pressed into her arms, keeping her captive, and yet Opal wanted to be here, losing herself in the kiss, the first kiss she had tasted in seven long years.
It was heady, her heart fluttering and her whole body tingling with pleasure as his tongue met hers. She lost all sense of place, of reason, of sanity; she pulled him closer, her hands entangled in his hair, her fan against his back, and kissed him most furiously.
Jasper. Her husband. The man she had married.
The kiss deepened. Pent-up longing and desperation poured from Opal, and Jasper moaned slightly as he tilted her chin to gain greater entrance.
Opal stepped away.
She should not have done it.
“Opal?” Jasper looked a little drunk, and it certainly could not be the punch. No one was drinking enough of it. “Opal, what is wrong?”
Opal searched desperately for the words, then said helplessly, “Everything.”
Jasper was not fool enough to try to pacify her with fruitless platitudes. “I know. And I want to make things right—”
She had to laugh at that. “I told you not to come here, and you came!”
Opal had spoken in a hiss, conscious that Almack’s was mere feet away from them.
A wry grin had slipped across Jasper’s face. “Yes, I did. And you were pleased to see me, am I right?”
“I have to learn to trust you, to…to love you again.”
“I will make you love me—”
“You cannot make anyone love you, Jasper!” Opal said with exasperation. Really, did he think this entire thing a game?
Jasper stared fiercely, as though ready for a fight, then his expression softened. “I know that.”
“Do you?”
Silence fell between them, and Opal knew it was a silence they could not yet cross.
Laughter and the sound of the musicians striking up again poured into the alcove, and Opal glanced back at the main dancehall. They could not remain here. Who knew what gossip was already spreading.
“You fell in love with me before.”
“At first sight,” Opal said with a dry laugh. “I was young, then. I am older now.”
“Wiser?” asked Jasper with a grin.
Opal swallowed. She certainly did not feel wiser. “Yes.”
He stepped closer and Opal tried to step back, but there was a rather inconvenient wall in her way. “You can fall in love with me again.”
Falling in love was not the problem, Opal thought wildly. “It’ll take more than a look this time.”
Her heart was still racing, astonished that one single kiss could have such an impact. But she could not think about this now. They were, in public.
“We have to go out,” she said, “and pretend we are happy.”
Was that a shadowy look on Jasper’s face? It disappeared within a moment. “Right. Pretend we are happy. For your reputation.”
“For Coral,” Opal corrected sharply. “And Micah and Emerald.”
The mention of their children seemed to bring Jasper to his senses. The strange look was gone now, and he proffered his arm. Opal took it, attempting not to notice just how right it felt.
“Yes, I suppose it is for the children,” he said quietly. “Who knows what Society will say if we are not able to…to come to terms and wed again. Does that make them illegitimate?”
It was as though he had slapped her. Opal’s breath was stolen from her lungs, her entire body stiff. Her children. Their children.
Could she step beyond her own wishes, her own confused heart, and merely marry him for their children?
They stepped out of the alcove and into the intrigued smiles of a whole gaggle of people, evidentially attempting to eavesdrop.
Opal smiled brightly. “Ah, Lady Romeril. Have you been introduced to my husband?”
Chapter Six
April 24, 1794
Jasper could feel the frustration swirl through his lungs and knew he could not permit it to exit his mouth.
It was tempting though. He had never been pushed so far beyond his endurance. It was as though they were designed to test his patience—and in a way, he supposed, they had been.
“Micah,” he said slowly.
The young boy scowled. “Jasper.”
Jasper gritted his teeth and swallowed the retort that he would certainly have received from his own father if he had been so rude. But he would not say it. He was not going to repeat those mistakes.
He and Opal had always said when they had first got married: the mistakes in their lines ended with them. They would not permit them to permeate to the next generation.
“Micah,” he repeated. “Come on now, son. You know that was wrong.”
The old spaniel looked dolefully up at the two of them. There was no reproach on his face, ever-loving—at least to the children—but Jasper had seen what had happened.
Tension sparked across his shoulder blades, but he was careful to prevent it from seeping into his expression.
When he had happened upon the two of them, Admiral trying to reach for his toy and Micah laughing, Jasper had known it was just youthful playing. The boy couldn’t possibly know how painful it was for the dog to try to reach up on his hindquarters.
Micah stood before him, sullen and silent as ever. Emerald was now clinging to the dog, her arms wrapped around him, sobbing at the thought of Admiral being hurt.
Jasper tried to take a deep breath. It was not the children’s fault; they had probably never been told. It was his own.
He looked at his son. Perhaps they were not so very different after all. Perhaps that was the trouble.
“Micah,” he said firmly, lowering himself onto his haunches to look directly into the boy’s eyes. From here, he could see the tension in his son’s face, the red-rimmed eyes just seconds away from tears.
Jasper swallowed. Wasn’t this supposed to get easier as they got older? For some reason, perhaps it was his memory playing tricks on him, but they all seemed more manageable when babes. Now they could talk, run, argue…
It made his conversation with Opal, the one he had not yet managed to have, all the more vital. Why he had left, why he had returned, what she had thought of his letter…it was so important for them to speak openly. To speak as they had never done before.
But he could not worry about that now. Lost in his thoughts, his children needed him, and he had spent more than enough time as an absent father.
“Micah, I saw you teasing Admiral,” Jasper said softly, trying as best he could to ensure all blame was removed from his voice. Just the facts. That was what mattered. “You probably didn’t know that it might hurt him to lean up so high. Did you?”
Micah held his gaze for a fraction of a second longer than Jasper had expected, then hung his head, shaking it as a tear fell. “I didn’t think it would hurt him.”
“It probably didn’t,” said Jasper hastily. The dog barked softly, putting his nose into the boy’s hand, which tightened around his muzzle. “But I needed you to stop, which is why I might have shouted, and I am sorry for that. Do you understand?”
The boy nodded, not looking at his father.
“Coral, will you take Emerald to the nursey, please?”
Jasper had intended it as a kindness. Emerald would be removed from the dog, she would have a moment alone with her elder sister, and perhaps Opal would see them, give her comfort.
It was clear at once that Emerald did not take it as a kindness.
“I-I’m in trouble!” she wailed harder.
Jasper raised a hand to rub his temples. “You are not being punished, Em.”
The girl did not hear him. Her piteous crying increased in volume, and Coral glared at their father, as though he had committed some terrible crime.
“Now you’ve done it,” muttered Micah.
Jasper straightened up, entirely at a loss. How was one supposed to calm children? Sweets? Toys? Embraces and cuddles were out of the question; he had already tried that.
If only Opal were here. Not for the first time since he had returned to the de Petras house, Jasper ached for the love and support of his wife. Not his wife on paper perhaps, but on his heart. She would know how to explain this to Micah and keep Emerald happy. Why, she could probably do it with a quick look and smile, rather than the marchpane that he was likely going to have to send out for.
But Opal was not here. She had gone out visiting and had made it perfectly clear that he was not to accompany her.
Jasper had been tempted to retort back—but knew better than that. Holding his tongue was the easiest way to prove he was here for good. Time would be his other proof.
“Em, darling,” Jasper said helplessly, reaching out for his youngest child.
Emerald screwed up her face, already red and stained with tears, and screamed at the top of her lungs.
“I will take her upstairs,” said Coral with a sigh very much like her mother.
Now he had a moment to think. Right. Emerald was taken care of—at least for now. Now to turn to his son.
Micah was still staring at the floor, a faint flush on his cheeks. The boy knew he had done wrong, clearly, but he had no real desire to punish him. Not for a misunderstanding.
But it was not just guilt on the boy’s face. Now Jasper took a closer look, he could see something else—something he hated to spot. Fear.
Jasper swallowed. His son feared him. Well, in some circles that would be something worth celebrating, but his heart rebelled against such tactics.
No child should fear either of their parents—but in truth, Jasper could not pretend that he was surprised. Micah had been just toddling about when he had left. The boy hardly knew him. Would not he have been afeared of a tall, strange man at his age?
“Micah,” Jasper said slowly, lowering himself once again onto his haunches. “That was not very kind.”
His son sighed. “I suppose it was not. But I did not know.”
It was all Jasper could do not to smile. He certainly should not be encouraging his son to act in such a way, and he supposed he should be grateful the boy did not attempt to lie.
No carefully constructed excuse, no pretending that something else had occurred. Just a straightforward admission of ignorance. One had to admire that sort of bald-faced honesty.
“But not knowing,” Jasper said carefully, “does not mean that you can tease Admiral or your younger sister. Either of your sisters,” he added hastily. He had been a young boy in his time. He did not wish to give any opportunities for misunderstanding.
Micah sighed heavily. “But you don’t understand, you haven’t been here long enough to know how irritating they are!”
He may as well have stabbed his father in the heart for the pain Jasper felt. A sharp, twisting agony scorched into his stomach, burning his insides.
“It’s your fault,” said Micah suddenly, looking into the eyes of his father. “If you had not gone away, perhaps they would not be so irritating. Damn you!”
The words echoed around the parlor as would a bullet. Jasper stared at his son, his precious boy. He had held him when just an hour old. Now words like that spilled from his lips.
Jasper tightened his jaw. “Go to your bedchamber, Micah de Petras. No dinner for you. I want you to think about what you’ve said.”
In a moment of silence, he was almost sure his son would rebel against him, argue back, perhaps even shout. But a look of sullen bitterness spread across his face, and he slunk out of the room, Admiral at his side, slamming the door behind them.
Jasper sank onto the sofa, collapsing face down and closing his eyes. Parenting. No one had ever warned him the damned thing would be far less enjoyable than the creation of life. Just when one thought one had a handle on the thing…
If only Opal was here. But how could she have dealt with it any better? It was an impossible situation—an impossible child.
“That went well.”
Jasper opened his eyes as a dry voice spoke. Opal was standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame with a smug look on her face. She was dressed in her best clothes, a heavy bonnet covered in the latest fashion—boughs of cherries—held in her hand.
Relief, sweet relief, soared through Jasper. She was here.
The joy that rushed through him was softened, however, by the expression on her face, one that Jasper could not mistake.
He sat up hastily. “You…you are angry with me.”
Opal sniffed. “Not angry. Not exactly.”
Stepping into the room, she shut the door behind her with a snap.
Jasper swallowed his words, not really knowing what he would have said. Instead, as Opal stepped across the room and settled herself imperiously in an armchair, he was painfully reminded of that day. The day that had changed everything.
He had almost not gone through with it. Something in the back of his mind whispered that he should not take the threatening letters so seriously, yet Jasper had been overcome with fear for his family.
The family that he could not protect, other than leaving them.
It had been sunny. Warm sunshine had drifted through the windows of their Bath home as he had packed the very last item into his trunk. Closing it had been difficult; Jasper had not at that time decided where he was to go, so had attempted to take as much of both his summer and winter wardrobe as possible. He had taken money from the bureau, guilt searing his heart but knowing he must take it to survive.
How long he would be away…it had been impossible to guess. Until the danger had passed. However long that would be.
The note he had carefully written, agonizing over every single line, was placed on the side table in the hall, where all letters were placed by their maids when the post arrived.
At least, Jasper had comforted himself as he had stood there in the silent house, Opal would know why he had done this. Why he had been driven to take such drastic action. Why he had made the decision to leave.
Not that it had been a decision, not really. Not after someone had threatened him, threatened Opal, their children. The whole family.
Jasper swallowed hard and pulled back into the present as Opal cleared her throat pointedly. He could not permit his feelings to show, not after he had done so much to protect them from that potential pain.
There was a sad sort of wistfulness on Opal’s face, and Jasper’s stomach lurched. This distance between them, this misunderstanding…all could be undone if he could explain everything to her, his full account of why he had left. How else could she begin to heal from the pain?
“I…” Jasper swallowed. Damnit, Opal always had this effect on him. “I know I said I was going to court you, but before that, I have to say—”
The door behind him opened, and Opal’s gaze instantly drifted away.
“Yes?”
“Mr. King to see you, mistress,” came the quiet voice of one of their maids.
Mr. King? Who the devil was—
A tall, well-featured man dressed in the absolute best of fashions strode into the room with his gaze affixed on Opal. Only when he had bowed to her, raised her hand to his lips, and kissed it, did he appear to notice she was not alone.
“Ah, sorry old chap,” Mr. King said breezily. “Did not see you there.”
