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Jasper stared up at the gamboling firelight on the ceiling as Althea dozed softly beside him, her head resting in the crook

of his shoulder. He tried not to think about the warm press of her body, the way she nestled perfectly against him, her limbs

trustingly curled around him as if contentedly resigned to the fact that she was his, and his alone.

But she wasn’t his. Not yet. Not in the way that would protect her in the event that all his plans fell to ruin.

If he’d been thinking clearly, instead of abandoning all reason, he would have waited to bed her. Or rather... he might

have waited.

Damn it all. What was the point in lying to himself? There wasn’t any force on earth that could have helped him resist her.

And he didn’t regret a single blistering moment.

Perhaps that was the problem. Because he knew that an invitation to dine with the Duke of Sherborne might open many doors,

but society’s acceptance wasn’t guaranteed. The court’s ruling wasn’t guaranteed either.

Even if Jasper met with the best of possible outcomes, earning a reputation worthy of being considered marriageable would

still take time.

And then there was the matter of Redcliffe.

Without a doubt, his uncle would try to thwart whatever progress he might make. For every inch he advanced, Redcliffe wouldn’t rest until he’d stripped away the ground beneath his feet. It was in his ruthless nature to take and take until there was nothing left.

Because of that, Jasper would always have to be on his guard.

This was especially true now that he was on the precipice of having everything he ever wanted. But he was afraid of losing

it all. In his experience, something was bound to go wrong.

“You have your thinking face on,” Althea said sleepily, interrupting his thoughts.

He cut a glance down to the top of her head. “You cannot even see my face from your position. How would you know my expression?”

“The same way you know whenever I’m smiling,” she said, clearly smiling with erudite smugness. “I can just feel it. Those

little furrows form a pair of Vs, one stacked on top of the other. And when you wear your spectacles they make you look like

a professor before delivering a stern lecture.”

“Consider them kindling for the fire.”

“No, don’t.” She turned to look up at him. “I’m rather fond of Professor St. James. He has recently starred in a number of

salacious dreams. And his assignments are always... well... rather inventive. Would you like to hear one?”

The instant her lips curved in a slow grin, Jasper’s body temperature rose, his mind caught in a mirage of haze and heat.

From the impish tilt of her sooty lashes, she knew precisely what she was doing to him.

He blinked, trying not to be distracted by the temptress again. He had a strategy to form, after all.

But thinking was rather difficult with her beside him, so uninhibited with her affection, skating her fingertips in his chest

hair in swirling patterns as if her only concern was carving magical runes into his soul.

Even after their lovemaking, when he’d padded naked across the room to light a fire, she hadn’t been shy with him.

In fact, she’d openly admired his body, giggling when her brazen comments about his backside made him blush.

The intimacy of it was foreign territory for him.

And, in that regard, she seemed the one with far more experience.

However, when he saw the pink tinge of her blood as he’d bathed her tender flesh with a cloth in water heated by the fire,

all his discomfiture fell away under a tidal wave of violent protectiveness. He felt at once a combination of fierce male

pride over having claimed her as his own, but also mortification over his roughness and utter abandon. The conflicting emotions

left him with the perverse desire to bolt the door and keep her inside with him for the next twenty to seventy years.

He’d settled for tucking the coverlet high around her shoulders as a reminder to avoid further temptation.

But when she stretched beside him, the coverlet lowered an inch or two. Unconcerned by the fact that her bare breasts were

tantalizingly pressed against him, she bent her arm over his chest and rested her chin on her hand. Her glorious hair was

in a tumble, her cheeks rosy and her lips bee-stung from his kisses... and it took every ounce of control not to ask about

those dreams.

“I should take you home,” he said with a laughable lack of conviction.

He didn’t move a muscle. In fact, the arm holding her against the crook of his body might have tightened reflexively, tucking

her hips against him. And from the amusement glowing in her eyes, the action didn’t escape her notice.

“Or we could hie off to Gretna Green,” she offered with a lift of her dark brows.

He reached up to sweep a curl behind her ear.

“As much as it pains me to say this, it’s too soon.

If I abscond with you to Gretna Green now, the Duke of Sherborne will surely rescind his invitation.

Then any plan for the future would be for naught.

This isn’t the time to put the cart before the horse. ”

“Says the man who just spent a glorious hour divesting an innocent of her maidenhead and introducing her to all manner of

carnal delights.”

His heart stopped and he felt all the color drain from his face. “Althea, I hope you know that, when I brought you here, I

never intended to—”

“I’m only having a go with you,” she chided tenderly, her fingers resting against his lips. “Besides, I am the one who seduced

you, knowing full well what was at stake. However long it takes, I can wait. In the meantime,” she continued, dragging one

fingertip down his throat, over the center of his chest and to the edge of the coverlet, “we will have our nights together.

And, during the days, jaunts through the park and... Why are you shaking your head?”

“Because we cannot be seen together. Not yet,” he said, lowering her hand and threading their fingers together. “One hint

of our relationship would ruin you and your family. Redcliffe would see to it.”

“He hasn’t even approached me since the maze.”

He knew this already from the reports he’d received, but that didn’t put him at ease. “Redcliffe’s pride doesn’t permit him

any personal failings, especially where the fairer sex is concerned.”

She issued a dry laugh. “Then I find myself grateful that his ego is so easily wounded.”

“But if he knows you are important to me, he will devise a way to have you at his mercy. I cannot risk that. I will not risk that.”

“If it were up to me, I would expose him for the villain he is.”

“He still has far too much influence,” Jasper warned. Cupping her cheek, he held her gaze. “You must promise me you won’t draw attention to yourself by mentioning what you know of him. Not even to Lady Broadbent.”

After a moment of consideration, she sighed, her mouth turning sullen. “Fine. But the Duke of Sherborne had better do his

part. If he doesn’t profess to the entire ton that you are absolutely magnificent and that you’ve been grossly underestimated all your life, then I shall be quite cross.”

A peculiar sensation rattled awkwardly inside his chest. It felt like a cliff face giving way, an avalanche of rocks tumbling

into a dark abyss. He slid his hand to her nape as if to hold on, to keep them both away from the edge.

“We cannot take any chances,” he said, his voice rough with emotion. “Which means pretending indifference to each other during

the days. And”—he drew in a breath and forced out the words—“no more nights.”

“None? For how long?”

“At least a fortnight.”

“A fortnight ?”

“By then, the court will rule. I’ll have a better idea of what I’m facing. Then, if all goes to plan, I can begin to pay calls

on you,” he said. “In the meantime, you should act as though nothing has changed and continue on with your usual engagements.”

“Such as tours through the park with other men? Dancing with other men? Receiving flowers from other men? Those usual engagements?”

He heard the grinding of his back molars. “Aye.”

“And if I were to tell you that Lady Broadbent has already hinted that I should accept Captain Summerhayes’s invitation to

the opera at the end of the week? What would you say to that?”

“I would tell you to go,” he articulated carefully through clenched teeth.

She growled and rolled away from him. Wrapping a sheet around her, she glared from the other side of the rumpled bed, a dark gulf between them.

“Ooh! You are such a stubborn, infuriating man! Haven’t you spent enough of your life looking at the world through Redcliffe’s

eyes? Not everyone is like him, you know. You’ll have to trust someone at some point. You’ll have to take a chance on seizing

the life you want.”

He sat up against the bolster, his spine ramrod straight. “That’s what I’m trying to do. But one cannot simply launch oneself

toward the future, eyes closed, and hope that everything will turn out for the best. It’s better to be prepared for the worst.”

“Safer, you mean,” she argued.

“Fine. Call it safer, if you must. Because I don’t know how I can keep you safe if my reputation is good for nothing.”

At his declaration, her thunder faded as swiftly as a summer storm—all wind and bluster one minute, all soft air and sighs

the next.

“Oh, Jasper,” she breathed, her heart in her eyes. Slowly, she hiked up the sheet and crawled over to him, her hands cupping

the sides of his face. “I love you so much. But preparing for the worst doesn’t alter the outcome. It only takes away the

wonder in every moment we spend together. And if you walk into Sherborne’s dinner, waiting for an attack, you’ll never let

down your guard and he’ll never meet the real Jasper Trueblood, Viscount St. James. And that would be a detriment to you both.”

His hand covered hers, his gaze imploring. “I cannot lower my guard with people I don’t know.”

“You did with me.”

“Only because you cast some sort of spell on me,” he grumbled.