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It was a commonly held belief that the best way to fell a large structure was with a seismic shift in the foundation beneath

it. Then it would all come crumbling down.

It was with this thought in mind that Jasper’s new strategy took shape.

He was going to make society question Redcliffe’s word and his version of the truth. He knew that, once the first seed was

planted, people would begin to wonder about everything he proclaimed, even Jasper’s mental competence. This would be the only

way to increase his chances of having the court rule in his favor when they convened again on his twenty-fifth birthday.

He had eighteen days and it wasn’t going to be easy.

Telling an unwanted truth, which made the person hearing it feel foolish or flawed for not noticing it themselves, never worked

in a society obsessed with vanity. Offering them this same truth as scintillating gossip, however, always did.

He began with one of his uncle’s most cherished fictions—his honorable lineage.

Jasper selected the men to deliver these truths with careful precision.

After all, not all the men indebted to Redcliffe were loyal to him.

Some had grown too worn and weary from having to do the earl’s bidding when he asked for a favor.

Some were tired of barely scraping by because the remunerations for their debts kept increasing, leaving them forever at the earl’s mercy and teetering on the verge of begging him for a loan.

Redcliffe liked when someone was close to the edge, a desperate breath away from falling into the abyss. That way he would

be deemed a hero by offering a pittance.

Baron Reginald Woodthorpe was one of those men. He had two daughters just out in society, then a year of heavy rain had flooded

his crops and he was unable to pay the debts accrued from the London Season. That was when Redcliffe had offered to purchase

his debt, with interest. Unfortunately, a hard winter had wiped out another crop.

Redcliffe had paid these debts for him, then quadrupled the interest.

Woodthorpe had been overheard at a tavern, drunkenly declaring that he was being squeezed like a turnip and couldn’t see any

end in sight. He was a desperate man. And when he awoke the following morning with his head pounding from drink, he likely

wouldn’t remember having a conversation with a stranger who’d sat at a table in the shadows, telling him of the infamous history

of the second Earl of Redcliffe.

But the following evening, when Woodthorpe attended a small gathering on Redcliffe’s estate, that vague recollection was sure

to float to the surface. And that was where the plan would begin.

***

That night, Jasper concealed himself in the darkness, making sure that no one saw him in the garden where the torchlight didn’t

reach.

Redcliffe strutted around on his terrace, a veritable peacock showing off his plumage. He enjoyed putting on an ostentatious

display for his guests.

As the gentlemen milled around, enjoying their port and cigars, the earl gestured broadly to his grand house.

“I am fortunate to come from such a long line of honorable men. The first Redcliffe had been bequeathed an earldom after service to King Charles II for heroism in battle. The second earl also proved his loyalty to crown and country. And the—”

“Didn’t the second earl bankrupt the estate from gambling debts?”

Redcliffe lowered his cigar and scrutinized the man who’d dared interrupt. But he was good about controlling his temper in

public, so he chuckled. “Who doesn’t have a skeleton in the cupboard, eh, Woodthorpe? Correct me if I’m wrong, but don’t you

have a poor country relation in Fleet as we speak?” Redcliffe clapped him on the shoulder. “Fear not, old chap, even I have

an idiot nephew.”

Jasper had anticipated this. His uncle had a practiced way of sounding as though he were humbling himself while being condescending

at the same time. The supreme self-assuredness in his own magnificence made other men tend to agree, nodding or laughing along

with him without question.

At least, until someone did question.

Which happened at White’s later that week as the second part of the strategy began to unfold.

Jasper was fortunate to have had a handful of professors who’d looked at his work before they’d cast judgment over his intellect

or listened to his uncle. Of course, he’d had plenty of the other sort who were more apt to believe that good marks from the

likes of him had meant he cheated. In the former category, however, he had attained respect and made a few friends.

One such friend did him a favor quite recently.

While dining with the Duke of Sherborne one evening, a former professor happened to mention Jasper in passing.

So when someone at the club repeated the comment re garding the second earl, Redcliffe again chose evasion by way of the “idiot nephew.”

Hearing this, Sherborne folded his newspaper. “That’s peculiar. I’d heard that St. James actually made good marks in school.”

“Wherever did you hear such nonsense, Sherborne?” Redcliffe laughed and received an arched eyebrow.

No one ever laughed at the venerable Sherborne. “From one of his professors. And before you find fault either with that man’s

recollection or his honor, know that I hold him in great esteem and would take any insult personally.”

If a pin had dropped in the room in that moment, it would have echoed like thunder.

Though, in such a group of men, there was always a devil’s advocate, and always a fool. It was the latter who made a quip

to break the tension and soon the incident was forgotten.

But not entirely.

Then, a few days later at Tattersall’s, someone questioned a story that Redcliffe often told about how his father amassed

his fortune. “Wasn’t it because he’d sent his brother to war in order to marry the man’s betrothed?”

Redcliffe had chortled. “Nothing more than a transfer of affections. Women are forever changing their minds.”

That earned a laugh. Until another man mentioned that, when the first wife died in childbed, he’d taken his other brother’s

betrothed and made her his second wife.

Redcliffe waved that off, declaring that, clearly, women couldn’t resist his ancestor. This earned another laugh. Upon hearing

this, Jasper imagined that his uncle had nearly reached his limit of having his word questioned.

The earl proceeded to weave in a new thread of the story, of how beneficent his ancestor had been by marrying her after that

brother had abandoned her. The poor little heiress.

Redcliffe was skilled at twisting facts. He could wind conversation into so many turns and loops that it resembled a coiled serpent with the head indiscernible from the tail. And while he may have been able to convince many of his truth, the seeds of doubt had been planted all the same.

Whispers had already begun. Just how noble and honorable was the great Earl of Redcliffe?

By the end of the week, Jasper started to dream of his own future for the first time in his life.

***

It wasn’t until Redcliffe went away to his hunting cabin that Jasper felt it was safe enough to head to the tavern. He didn’t

like being a long distance away from Althea when he knew his uncle was in town.

As he stepped out of the carriage, he breathed in deeply, enjoying the fresh pine-scented air.

It reminded him of home. Even though he’d been just a boy the last time he’d lived on the St. James demesne, he remembered

sitting on his father’s shoulders as they walked the land. He’d felt like he was a hundred feet tall and able to touch the

clouds with his fingertips.

Tucking the memory away, he turned around and held out his hands for Roly in the driver’s perch. The boy had wanted to sit

with the dog, believing it was unfair that he wasn’t allowed to ride inside. But Jasper wasn’t about to let Garmr shed all

over his carriage if Althea was going to spend any time inside.

Not that he planned she would. But he wasn’t not planning on it either.

Roly leapt down like a squirrel flying from one branch to another, arms and legs splayed. Jasper caught him and swung him

around in circles as giggles erupted.

Once on his feet, Roly teetered drunkenly, grinning as Garmr licked him from chin to cowlick.

“Are you going to marry Miss Hartley?”

The question knocked the breath out of Jasper, taking him unawares. “What makes you ask that question?”

The boy shrugged. “You’ve been different, sort of happy like. Pitt says it’s because you’re in love.”

Jasper shot a glare over his shoulder to his bald-pated driver, who started whistling and pretended to be incredibly busy

brushing down the horses. “I could go back to being a surly ogre, I suppose.”

“No. It’s just... I think Thumper liked having her around. She’s real nice. And pretty. And... if you married her we’d

all be... sort of... a family.”

“We already are a family,” he said, ignoring the sudden jolt that shook him to the soles of his feet.

... if you married her...

“A family needs someone softer, don’t it? Someone who smells nice and knows things. And we’re all rough and tumble and hard

around the edges, even Thumper...” Roly paused and thoughtfully stroked his dirty chin as if he were an old philosopher

contemplating the wisdom of the ages. “But I ain’t sure he’s a man like us, since he lost his bollocks and his leg in that

trap. Barrett says that’s what marriage did to him.”

Unfortunately for Barrett, at the same time that the boy said those words, both he and Nan emerged through the back door.

“Did he now?” Nan asked with one hand on her hip and a laundry basket on the other, her foot tapping like a death knell on

the hard-packed earth.

Barrett shook his head. “Of course, I didn’t, my sweet angel. My bride. The love of my life. Marriage to you has been a dream.”

“While you’re dreaming, just don’t forget that I’m the one who sleeps next to you and I can make sure you never wake up.” She stormed off to hang the wet clothes.