“How is that, Your Grace?”
Jasper rubbed a hand across his jaw and nodded at his valet. “Exemplary, as usual.”
“And your clothing choice for the fair?”
For the first time in his life, he hesitated. Usually he muttered something like “blue” or “black”, and his valet raced between dressing room to armoire to create an ensemble. But his attire seemed to matter more than usual. “Let me see…”
His valet’s eye’s widened. “Your Grace? Is something amiss?”
Jasper nearly snorted. Anyone who had known him longer than a week would say yes. Making a bed, dusting, and permitting a vicar’s daughter to hire him for fucking were hardly run-of-the-mill activities. “Not at all. Er…brown.”
Ada’s eyes were brown.
He gritted his teeth. One afternoon in an abandoned cottage, and he’d lost his damned mind. Yes, it had been spectacular bedsport and he needed more without delay, but that was no excuse for his increasingly unhinged behavior. Hell, he’d nearly hugged Ada when she had become tearful after coming so hard. Tristan and Tabitha hugged. The Duke of Gilroy did not. That was a degree of softness, of intimacy, that he would never be comfortable with. He was too much his father’s son for that.
“I’ve changed my mind,” Jasper said brusquely. “Hunter-green jacket and black trousers.”
“Very good, Your Grace.”
Once dressed, he called for his carriage and was soon on his way to town. As always when traveling in the area, Jasper leaned forward and admired the rolling landscape as it flew by. No scenery could compare to this; there was just so much space, and only in heaven could the pasture be richer or greener. Everyone knew the finest beef, mutton, wool, and game in England came from Gloucestershire; indeed, today’s fair would see a great deal of money change hands as farmers sold fat cattle and lambs, and tinkers hawked their goods.
When his carriage approached Cheltenham High Street an hour later, it slowed to a crawl. Hundreds of people had gathered for the fair, and already there were wooden stalls selling food and wares, animal pens, a pavilion for musicians, and a temporary stage for dancing and puppet shows. Understanding it would be infinitely quicker to walk, and eager to stretch his legs, Jasper tapped on the carriage roof to bring it to a halt. His driver would proceed to a popular spot for gentry vehicles in a wide avenue nearby before settling in to play cards and eat pasties with the other drivers.
Jasper stepped out of the carriage and absorbed the activity around him. The air was alive with excited chatter and applause, loud bargaining, restless cattle and sheep, and musicians tuning their instruments. He walked on, nodding in greeting as men doffed their hats and women curtsied, knowing as soon as he passed by the townspeople would be whispering about him. While he was held in high esteem as a landlord and employer, they tutted rather pointedly over his bachelor status.
Well. Everyone except Ada.
“Good morning, Your Grace!”
Jasper turned at the feminine hails and smiled at the sight of Ada’s friends Miss Lacey and Miss Kinloch. They had done him several great services after all, assisting Ada in her quest and acting as note messengers between them.
“Ladies,” he said warmly. “How are you this fine day?”
Miss Lacey grinned. “Faring well at the fair. We’ve been watching a troupe of Londoners perform tricks on horseback. My word, such talent! If I attempted to stand up, or lean down and fetch a sack, I would be on my backside in the dust, wailing for a physician. But we’ve also contributed to the local economy; I sampled a great deal of wine, and Martha purchased enough red and white ribbon to circle the cottage thrice.”
“Glad to hear it,” he replied. “I also have purchases to make.”
“Have you just arrived?” asked Miss Kinloch, stepping closer to avoid a passel of shrieking children with sticks of toffee in their hands. “We were helping Ada at the St. Mary’s stall, but there was a lull in customers, so she told us to take a stroll.”
“Yes, I’ve been here ten minutes or so. Is Miss Blair…well?”
Miss Lacey smirked. “Quite well several times over, apparently. I salute the effort.”
He somehow stifled a laugh. While Ada’s own household might be rather miserable, it was easy to see who encouraged the hidden streak of pert minx in her. “One can only strive.”
“Indeed,” said Miss Kinloch merrily. “But you won’t have had time to donate to St. Mary’s yet. Why don’t you accompany us back to the stall, Your Grace?”
“You’ll find exactly what you’ve been seeking,” added Miss Lacey. “A nice, tall, refreshing…glass of lemonade.”
Jasper raised an eyebrow. “Bold.”
“As sin,” she replied with a wink. “By the by, if you walk with a sweet old lady on each arm, far less chance of being accosted by young misses with suspiciously weak ankles.”
“A clever plan. If only I could find some sweet old ladies…”
Miss Kinloch giggled. “Naughty man. Come along, Your Grace, and loosen those purse strings. There is a cart up ahead with the finest apple tarts in the county; we’ll need sustenance to find our stall, as it is way down the other end of High Street.”
“It would be my honor,” Jasper replied, offering each woman an arm.
In truth while he liked them both, far more importantly, they seemed to like him and had proven steadfast in their assistance. Even today, offering to escort him back to the stall. If he walked straight up to Ada by himself it would cause gossip or catch the eye of her dastardly father, but with Miss Lacey and Miss Kinloch accompanying him, all small-town proprieties were being observed.
He needed to arrange a second tryst with Ada. Those stolen hours in the cottage hadn’t been nearly enough for his recently neglected cock. Logic also promised that once he’d had her several more times and the novelty of fucking a tall, plump, innocently bold minx wore off, all his bizarre thoughts and behaviors would cease and he would return to his old self. He didn’t actually require more than bedding from a woman; he just had months of unspent lust to slake.
Pleased and relieved he had a watertight plan to proceed, Jasper relaxed.
It was time to enjoy the fair.
“Where are those jars of preserves I told you to fetch? Good heavens, girl. Your head is away in the clouds today. A son wouldn’t be so much trouble.”
As always with her father, Ada kept smiling even when she wanted to hurl something and unleash several choice words. Of course, the moment she’d sent Ruth and Martha away to see the sights of the fair, half of Cheltenham decided they wanted a jar of berry preserves or marmalade, and the other half wanted a cool glass of lemonade to ease the late summer heat. While the money would boost the church coffers, she’d been run quite ragged, and her father reprimanding her every few minutes for even the slightest infraction did not help. Nor did talking to every man in the county except the one she wanted most to see.
“I’ll get them now, Father,” Ada replied, turning away from the temporary stall they’d constructed of three long wooden trestle tables and retreating into the tiny white canvas tent where they were storing their remaining supplies. But her hands were clumsy, and she halted for a moment to calm her agitation.