Fool!
If intemperate words brought the most wonderful experience of her life to a premature end, she would never forgive herself.
Chapter Six
In a series of exceedingly odd decisions, attending St. Mary’s in Charlton Kings for the sole purpose of talking to Ada was probably the oddest. And the most hazardous to his peace of mind.
An Ernest Blair service could only be described as loud. And rather frightening.
From his secluded position at the very back of the church, Jasper winced as the vicar’s booming voice bounced around the cool limestone walls, high carved arches, and stone slat roof, and viciously attacked the few hundred souls tightly packed inside. While Reverend Blair stood behind the raised pulpit, he never remained still. From one moment to the next he tossed his head, thumped his fist, and gesticulated wildly, causing his black cassock to swirl menacingly about. Not once did he speak of love or kindness or grace unto others.
How on earth had Ada survived thirty years of this? The relentless judgment and correction? No wonder she’d sought a lover for respite and pleasure.
While Jasper remained more than happy to provide that, the gamekeeper’s cottage now housed a second troubled specter: the conversation Ada was steadfastly avoiding. He’d tried broaching the topic of her love declaration on several occasions in the past week; each time she very successfully distracted him with her naked curves. And her spectacles.
He had the fortitude of syllabub when she wielded either.
But they needed to discuss the matter. Ada was stifling herself; and in truth everything he thought he believed, the opinions he’d long held on tender sentiment and finding forever love, were becoming unusually…disorderly. Perhaps that was why he hadn’t yet given her the satin dill pouch. It never seemed to be quite the right time, and the damned thing spent half its days hidden in his satchel, and the rest sitting forlornly on the side table in his bedchamber.
Jasper grimaced. He should have brought the pouch today. Forget protection from ghosts, protection from tempests of hellfire and brimstone masquerading as a vicar was a far more pressing concern.
Three hours later, after confession, psalms, readings from the Old and New Testament, the reciting of the Apostle’s Creed, and a sermon on the sins of vanity and pride, it was finally over. Standing up and discreetly stretching his numb backside, Jasper watched parishioners practically sprint for the double doors. The adults congregated outside on the lawn to talk while their children dashed about the neatly-tended gravestones nearby, all thrilled to have left the cool church and unpleasant smell of tallow candles behind. Ada was the last to leave, as she’d been dutifully sitting in the front row with Miss Lacey and Miss Kinloch.
“Miss Blair,” Jasper said softly, as she walked past him.
The two older ladies smiled conspiratorially and continued through the door. Ada halted, her cheeks going pink. “Your Grace! What…what brings you to St. Mary’s?”
He glanced to his left, relieved to see the vicar was presently occupied talking to a group of elderly men. “If you recall, I was chastised for attending church in my own parish, rather than the one adjoining. Never let it be said I do not welcome a new experience.”
“It is an experience for everyone,” she replied wryly. “As you lasted the full three hours, I hereby declare you to be stout of heart.”
“I shall have new calling cards made. But I had to see you,” he murmured. “Outside the cottage.”
Her blush deepened. “Why?”
“You know why.”
Ada sighed and her shoulders sagged a little. “Those three words.”
I love you.
Jasper nodded, fighting the urge to take both her hands and rub his thumbs across her knuckles to warm them. In this public place, they must be seen as nothing more than distant acquaintances politely conversing about the weather or other trivial topic.
“When can we discuss?” he asked. “I think we both know we need to.”
“Not here,” Ada said quickly, glancing again at her father, who was now talking to a young farmer and his heavily pregnant wife. “I am going to take the waters with Ruth and Martha tomorrow morning. It is our annual pilgrimage to the Royal Well. Perhaps you could accidentally bump into us there?”
“As long as I’m not expected to participate,” he said with a small shudder.
Ada sniffed. “Taking the waters is good for the soul. Cleansing. One small tumbler in exchange for my continued assistance in thwarting the terrible pigeon people.”
“Miss Blair. Surely you aren’t attempting to blackmail a duke? How positively Radcliffe of you.”
She batted her lashes at him. Ha. As if he didn’t know how perfectly wicked this vicar’s daughter could be. But before he could reply, a barked hail of “Your Grace!” assaulted his ears, and they both turned in dismay to see Reverend Blair approaching the church steps.
“Your Grace,” the vicar repeated, inclining his head like an emperor. “How gratifying to see you at St. Mary’s. I trust you found my sermon both educational and informative?”
“It was unlike anything I’ve ever experienced,” said Jasper truthfully.
“Ah, yes,” said the older man, looking pleased. “I write the sermons myself you know. Others are far too meek and mild; one needs to be a lion when guarding a flock. What were you speaking to my daughter about? I can’t think of anything you’d have in common.”
“The architecture of the church. Norman, I think?”
“Indeed. If you have any questions about it, please do ask me. Ada’s interests lie only in the feminine tasks of housekeeping, which is what she should be attending to right now.”
Ada’s shoulders stiffened. “Of course, Father.”
“Enjoy your excursion to the well, Miss Blair,” said Jasper with a bow.
Reverend Blair glared at him suspiciously. “I thought you had been discussing architecture. Do you have something to confess?”
Bloody hell.
Jasper lifted a ducal eyebrow. “I commented on the warm weather, and Miss Blair mentioned she would be taking the waters tomorrow with Miss Lacey and Miss Kinloch. Not an activity I would choose to partake in.”
“I take the waters each month. So cleansing.”
“Then I have great sympathy for your chambermaid.”
The vicar’s eyes bulged, and to Jasper’s right he heard a muffled coughing sound. Ada, trying her best not to laugh.
“Well,” bristled Reverend Blair. “Do not let us keep you, Your Grace. By the by, daughter, I have wonderful news. The curate I met with, Mr. Ambrose, has agreed to terms and will be returning to live here. Such a fine young man and so upright in his beliefs. He will make some fortunate woman an excellent husband. Of course, I have counselled him in the virtues of choosing an appropriate bride from Charlton Kings.”
Ada nodded. “There aren’t too many young women in the parish, but all are quite lovely. Perhaps one of them will look favorably upon the suit of a curate. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must go and attend to my duties. Your Grace. Father.”
After she’d bobbed a curtsy and departed, the vicar looked at him again with a dark frown. “My daughter is not for the likes of you, Gilroy.”