“Beg pardon?” he asked icily, unable to feign politeness a moment longer. The way this cretin treated Ada was abominable. Hell, if a pigeon flew past and decorated the older man’s head, he’d commission a twenty-foot statue for the town square tomorrow.
“You heard me. I commend an attempt to save your wretched soul by listening to one of my sermons, but do not approach Ada again. She is quite content with her life here and I won’t have her head turned by a wastrel sinner from London.”
“Is she content?” Jasper asked bluntly. “It does not seem so.”
“She will be. Good day, Your Grace.”
With those rather ominous words, Reverend Blair turned on his heel and went to talk to other members of his congregation.
Jasper’s brow furrowed. In other circumstances the warning might have been comical, but not from this man. It was a good thing he would be seeing Ada soon.
She needed comfort and respite more than ever.
The following morning dawned cloudy and cool, and Ada was grateful for the light rug draped over her lap as Ruth and Martha’s small, bright yellow open carriage sped toward Bayshill Road.
The Royal Well was Cheltenham’s oldest mineral spring and had been discovered nearly one hundred years earlier by the pigeons she and Jasper so loathed. A man named Captain Skillicorne had developed the site and enjoyed moderate success, but a visit from King George, Queen Charlotte, and the princesses back in 1788 had transformed the area into a bustling spa town. Nowadays Cheltenham had several spring facilities and was highly regarded as a health destination.
However, when the carriage pulled up in the clearing set aside for vehicles, Ada’s heart sank to see only two other conveyances, neither of them Jasper’s. As she’d finally readied herself for the delicate and long overdue conversation, she wanted it done with as soon as possible.
“He’ll be here soon, I’m sure of it,” said Martha, patting her arm as Ruth hitched the reins of both horses to one of the wooden posts provided.
Grateful once again for her godmothers’ unwavering support—they had been entirely sympathetic when she’d told them what she had prematurely blurted—Ada climbed down out of the carriage and approached the mineral spring and pump room as one might approach the edge of a steep cliff: with great reluctance and extreme caution.
“I cannot believe I agreed to this,” she said, shaking her head as the three of them walked on. “And don’t say it is good for me; the expressions on those faces there says otherwise.”
Ruth laughed as the group in front of them hurried away; lips puckered, brows furrowed, and hands clutching bellies. “You don’t have to drink a full tumbler. Martha takes a single mouthful and tips the rest into a shrub. I wonder how many others do the same thing. Must be hardy plants about, none have died yet.”
“Let us give praise for noble vegetation,” said Martha. “So stoically British.”
Ada laughed as they paid the longtime attendant, Mrs. Hannah Forty. Each received a freshly pumped half-pint tumbler of water from the twelve-foot-deep well. On the advice of physicians and men of science, the pump room was only open to members of the public during the summer months, between the hours of seven and ten in the morning. Allegedly the waters assisted with conditions such as indigestion, rheumatism, ulcers, asthma, and feminine complaints, but the only result she’d ever experienced was a headache and rather urgent need for the chamber pot. “Why do you come here rather than the Montpellier well? Far jollier over there with the band playing.”
Ruth snorted. “I prefer to take my medicine without some twit beating a drum or blowing a trumpet in my ear. A few gulps of repulsive mineral water shall wash away any guilt related to our excellent and varied collection of sins, and this holy occasion must be treated with great solemnity and decorum.”
Ada meekly raised her tumbler. “Let us drink—”
“Oh look,” said Martha. “It’s Gilroy.”
Thank heavens.
She watched Jasper advance with great appreciation. His muscular legs ate up the distance between them, and he looked almost too handsome in a dark brown jacket, gray waistcoat, and black trousers, with highly polished Hessians. No one else here knew that her duke looked even better without that expensive clothing, advancing or retreating.
“Miss Blair. Miss Lacey. Miss Kinloch. Good morning to you all,” he said when he reached them. “About to do your watery penance, I see.”
“We are,” said Ruth cheerfully as she curtsied, then moved to stand beside Martha. “What a lovely jacket, Your Grace. Almost the same color as Ada’s eyes.”
Jasper’s lips quirked. “Er…thank you.”
Ada glared at her godmother. Rather fortunate for Ruth that she’d stepped away, otherwise she would have enjoyed a sharp elbow to the ribcage for that mischief. “We all look lovely today.”
“You do indeed,” he said, nodding. “But don’t let me interrupt your water-taking. I understand it must be consumed soon after pumping to enjoy the full benefit.”
“You aren’t interrupting,” Ada said hastily. “I can’t think of anything I’d rather sample less than this mineral water…oh!”
As his arm jostled hers, an arc of water splashed out of her tumbler onto the ground, leaving it three-quarters empty. Jasper’s expression was the very portrait of contrition, but a glint of amusement lurked in those striking blue eyes, and it made her feel warm and tingly inside. He’d done that deliberately to spare her…but this time after she’d stated her dislike of it, not before.
“Miss Blair!” he exclaimed. “I do beg your pardon. How unforgivably clumsy of me.”
I love you.
Rather than three words launched unthinkingly in the heat of passion, they settled around her heart like a warm blanket. It wasn’t just that he could make her scream with pleasure, or that he admired her curves. It was everything. His care for her well-being. The terrible jests. Their banter. Good heavens, he’d even left her father temporarily speechless at St. Mary’s, and no one had achieved that, ever. Her late mother had always inclined her head and murmured “yes, Mr. Blair,” even when he was entirely wrong.
She would never have to do that with Jasper. With him, she had a voice and could be herself. No, more than herself. The woman she’d always dreamed of being: bold and passionate and daring.
“Indeed unforgivable,” Ada whispered. Then she added wickedly, “The only way to atone is to take the waters yourself.”
His eyebrows near flew into his hairline. “Anything but that.”
Ruth cackled. “Allow me to fetch you a tumbler, Your Grace.”
Soon they stood in a little circle, staring at their tumblers like one might stare at a viper about to strike.
“Who is going to go first?” asked Martha.
“Ladies before gentlemen,” said Jasper promptly.
“Since Ruth dragged us here, she may go first,” said Ada.
Her godmother rolled her eyes, raised the tumbler to her lips and swallowed the entire amount without so much as a splutter. Martha went next, taking one gulp of water before squawking like an outraged gull and flinging the remaining contents at a hapless shrub.