Sophie was older than him by a few months. A fact he enjoyed dropping into their little skirmishes from time to time.
She ignored his suggestion and clasped her hands primly in her lap. “Having just escaped the heat, I’ve no desire to return to it. I assure you my old bones are perfectly comfortable here and you should think nothing about warming them. After all, I’m only a governess. I truly should be with the children every moment of my employment.”
“On that, we agree.”
“Yes, it has always been clear what you think of governesses, and me in particular,” she murmured, and then smothered a laugh as she turned her face away. “I’m sure you’ll find better company on the other side of the room.”
He thought so too, but Jasper stared at the woman until she slowly looked up at him again. The remnants of her amusement slowly dimmed from her eyes, and she pressed her lips together tightly again.
He hated that the damn woman could read his mind. Not for the first time did he find himself in a battle of wills as to who would look away first. Radcliffe was always rather determined to outlast him. It was further confirmation that the woman was a problem when Jasper was the one to blink first.
But she’d agreed with everything Jasper had been thinking and saying for months. A governess ought to be with her charges and not partaking of the splendor of the drawing room with her employer’s family. It was Nash who kept insisting Radcliffe must dine with them and not even the duke could persuade him otherwise.
When nothing witty or cutting occurred to him to say next, he resigned himself to not having gotten out the last word. Jasper turned on his heel and returned to his brothers. He made sure not to face the governess directly. He did not want to spend the last night they would all be together, reminded that the governess had gotten under his skin again.
Jasper addressed the duke. “Any news on our cousin’s whereabouts?”
“I can only assume you mean Cousin George?”
“Indeed.”
“No sight of him since he was routed from the London townhouse by us,” Amity said. “But of his wife, I’ve heard much that troubles me. Melody has left for the continent.”
Jasper grinned. He had no love for Melody Sweet, Cousin George’s terrible wife, either. “Good riddance!”
“She is said to be traveling with her elderly father, but of George, there is no word if he accompanied them,” Amity said, looking worried. “They had a terrible fight the night we retook possession of the London townhouse, and I fear a permanent separation has ensued.”
“I tell you again it was not our fault. The lies about his situation and ownership of your property were of your brother’s making,” Crawford murmured as he patted his wife’s hand. “He ought to have been honest with his wife about how desperately his finances depended on the charity of others. Namely, you and the late duke.” Crawford looked among them. “George is not in the usual places he’d haunt in London; of that I know for a fact. My associates, many of his former friends, have not seen hide nor hair of him anywhere. Their debts remain unsettled, too.”
“He’ll return, meaner than ever, no doubt,” Nash warned, grimacing at the prospect. “George will allow no one to feel themselves relieved of his company forever.”
“Our cousin is a recurring pestilence,” Stratford supplied cheerfully, joining the conversation. Stratford laughed and turned to his wife. “Should we care for a drink, my dear?”
“I thought you’d never suggest it,” Win answered sweetly and pulled her husband away.
“Jasper?”
Jasper shook his head. “I have enough.”
Stratford tripped after Win all the way to the rum barrel, where he poured two glasses, and handed over one to his wife with a grand flourish. Win downed the lot in one long gulp and then met her husband’s gaze, eyes flashing with a challenge. Stratford attempted to follow her example, but it was well known he wasn’t much fond of rum. Stratford choked it down eventually, but he spluttered afterward, and his face slowly turned red.
Win merely chuckled softly, poured herself another drink, and proved for a second time she was more accustomed to the burn of rum down her throat than her husband would ever be.
Jasper did not understand the appeal of the woman his brother had married. Win Sweet was unusual. Utterly dry sense of humor. Dull, except on rare occasions like tonight, when he caught her looking at his brother a certain way—challenging him to keep up with her.
Win was an odd duck in other ways, too. She wasn’t particularly feminine, in his opinion. She did not glide, but strode boldly about the estate. As far as he knew, Win did not embroider, paint watercolors, or even play a musical instrument. It seemed she possessed none of the usual female accomplishments gentlemen were said to favor when choosing a wife. Win also exhibited a careless disinterest for fashion that society women seemed to believe important and seemed only to care for Stratford’s conversation. Which was lucky indeed, because her husband talked a great deal!
Win jostled with Stratford as if they were a pair of old friends out for a night of fun in a tavern on their way to a chaise lounge they could share. The pair were always joking together, whispering, and Jasper suddenly felt the suspicion that he had been left out of some great secret of some kind. He dismissed the idea as a foolish fancy on his part, as he always did. Stratford hadn’t been able to keep a secret in his entire life so there was obviously nothing important to be shared.
Everything was changing in the family, though. His youngest brother had married, mostly to reduce a long-standing debt. Amity, their favorite cousin, was married now, too. Nash was already married, but unhappily, and that left Jasper and the duke as the only unattached males in the room, but even Ravenswood must marry this year.
Jasper shifted in his chair, uncomfortable with the idea that soon he’d be the only bachelor left standing. It would make future dinners awkward and likely dull as the married couples flirted around him. He would have to find other ways to amuse himself on those nights, other than squabbling with the governess.
He let his eyes drift about the riches of the Ravenswood estate drawing room, fighting the usual bitterness when nothing he saw here would truly be his to call his own. Not even his favorite chair.
Jasper inevitably turned his gaze that way and discovered the governess had slipped from the room unnoticed. He was surprisingly disappointed about that. Jasper would have liked a chance to deliver the final word before she went on her way tomorrow. She and the children were to travel with the duke and Nash to meet the future duchess. He would not have to speak with Mrs. Radcliff beyond wishing her a pleasant journey tomorrow morning.
Yet what was he to do about the coming summer?
Suffer his own company for months and go out of his mind with boredom? He’d no close acquaintances in the district. Most being older, married, or decidedly poor company.
But he would be comfortable for the summer and the longer he thought about it, the more he was looking forward to having the place to himself for the first time. A few months of supposed quiet was just the thing he needed before next season got underway. The estate would hardly require much of his time, and what was left could be thoroughly enjoyed.
Perhaps a friend might visit.
Perhaps he could invite one or some.