A tall gentleman in flawlessly cut eveningwear stepped in front of him, barring his way. “Blunt. I thought that was you.”
Jasper gave the man a distracted look. It was Felix Hartford. A wealthy denizen of fashionable society, he was the grandson of the Earl of March and one of Jasper’s few acquaintances in town.
Though acquaintance might be a stretch.
Jasper was even less familiar with him than he was with Ridgeway. “Hartford. I didn’t know you were here.”
“I don’t wonder. It’s impossible to find anyone in this crush.”
“Quite.” Jasper looked past him to the terrace doors. “Excuse me. I have something I must attend to.”
Hartford followed his gaze. “An assignation?” He grinned. “Consider me surprised.”
Jasper glowered at the man. “It’s not an assignation, damn you. If you must know, Gresham’s taken Miss Wychwood outside. She didn’t appear too keen on the idea.”
Hartford’s brows notched in a disapproving line.
He was known to take a particular interest in Lady Anne. To what extent, Jasper didn’t know. The whole of their relationship seemed to consist of long looks and pointed barbs. As if the two of them were engaged in some private battle.
One could almost believe they were enemies, except for the fact that, given the opportunity, Hartford never failed to render Lady Anne a service.
And Miss Wychwood was Lady Anne’s bosom friend.
“Oh, she didn’t, did she?” Hartford moved past Jasper. “Well, Blunt? What are you waiting for?”
* * *
The Claverings’ tiered garden was landscaped for sin. Strategically placed torches illuminated the curving paths, but left plenty of nooks and crannies in shadow, perfect for midnight trysts. Muffled laughter and the sound of rustling fabric punctuated the splash of water flowing from a grand marble fountain nestled in a private clearing surrounded by statuary and manicured box hedges.
Lord Gresham guided Julia to one of the curved marble benches at the base of the fountain. He urged her to sit.
Julia stood her ground. She’d had enough of being pushed and pulled about. “My lord, I would you would stop pressing me.”
“Now’s not the time for missishness, girl. Have a seat so I might speak with you. Come. I’ll sit beside you—”
She struggled to free herself. “Pray, let me go. I mean it, sir.”
“Miss Wychwood, you compel me to be blunt.” He grasped both of her arms. “I require a wife. An heir. And your father has assured me you’re the one to fill the role.”
“I’m not, I promise you.”
“I’ll be the judge of that.” His intoxicated breath was sickly warm on her face. “You must know I find you ravishing beyond description. I may not be as young as I once was, but rest assured, I shall have no trouble rousing myself to—”
“Lord Gresham, really.” Julia pushed against him, horrified by the sentiments he was expressing. They weren’t a surprise. But to hear them—and to know how close she was to being obliged to submit to his desires—made her stomach roil in protest. “You go too far.”
The earl was past the point of heeding her. “My dear”—he strained to kiss her—“you drive me to be forceful.”
“Likewise.” She brought her foot down hard on his instep. The little heel of her silk slipper landed with a satisfying crunch.
“Argh!” Lord Gresham released her. Groaning plaintively, he hopped about the clearing on one foot. “Damn and blast it!”
“You have only yourself to blame, sir,” she said primly. Backing away from him, she glanced around the darkened clearing for her best route of escape. “I told you to let me go.”
“Miss Wychwood!” Captain Blunt emerged through the shrubbery. His black-and-white evening clothes, so understated and civilized, stood in stark contrast to the dangerous glint in his ice-gray eyes. “Are you all right?”
Her already racing pulse kicked into a gallop. “Captain Blunt. What are you doing here?”
Felix Hartford appeared in the captain’s wake.
Julia took another step back.
She’d known Mr. Hartford for most of her life, but theirs wasn’t anything resembling a friendship. He’d always been more interested in Anne than in her—an interest that manifested itself in razor-sharp jests that never failed to rile Anne’s temper.
Seeing him now, Julia wasn’t entirely confident he was there to assist her. Not until he moved to intercept Lord Gresham.
“What’s the meaning of this, sir?” Lord Gresham blustered.
“I could ask the same.” Mr. Hartford grasped the earl by his coat. “Dragging off a defenseless young lady? And in your appalling condition?”
Lord Gresham shrugged free of him. “You have a damned nerve, Hartford. There’s nothing wrong with my condition.”
“You smell like a distillery.”
His lordship turned the color of a ripe tomato. “I may have lost my head a little owing to drink, but—”
Captain Blunt advanced on the earl, something savage in his expression. In that moment, Julia could easily imagine him as Hades, God of the Underworld.
Or as a merciless soldier, cruel and pitiless to his core.
A shiver went through her.
Captain Blunt saw it. His face darkened like a thundercloud. “If you’ve hurt her—”
“I? Hurt her?” Lord Gresham was indignant. “It’s you who’s frightening her, Blunt, not I. Miss Wychwood and I have an arrangement. The girl’s father—”
“Her father be damned,” Captain Blunt said. “You have no right—”
“On the contrary. I have every right.” Lord Gresham gave Julia an aggrieved look. “Tell him, Miss Wychwood.”
Julia met Captain Blunt’s eyes. “It was a misunderstanding,” she said. “That’s all. I’d rather not have a scene.”
“Quite right.” Mr. Hartford took Lord Gresham’s arm. “I’ll see you into a carriage. You can make your apologies to Lady Clavering tomorrow.”
The earl dragged his feet. “What about Miss Wychwood?”
Mr. Hartford looked to Julia. “Shall I fetch your chaperone?”
“Oh no.” She retreated until she felt the bench press against the back of her skirts. “Please don’t summon Mrs. Major. It will only inflame the situation. I’ll be quite all right here. I only require a moment to compose myself.”