Page 162 of Ten Lords for the Holidays

Her mother sighed. “What I do know is that Lord Pershore is going through a troubling time.”

Despite herself, Anna did feel a trifle curious about what he might be going through that could turn him into such an arrogant man. Even so, she refused to speak another word about him.

I would rather be a spinster than marry the likes of him!

CHAPTER5

16th October,1812

Another surprise from his mother—this time in the form of a gathering. Jasper knew better than to try to talk his way out of it. Soon, he found himself standing in a corner near a table full of various fruits and cheese. Disgruntled, he looked out over the happy couples mingling, talking, laughing, smiling, and dancing.

He and his mother had spent the last decade away from England. They had traveled from port to port so they could spend time with his father, an ambassador at various posts. This city, Jasper was quickly finding, was too small, too confining, with everyone wishing to know the other’s affairs. Many an acquaintance had approached him. The gentlemen wished to know about the sights—and the women—he had seen, and the ladies flirted behind their fans. Jasper did not wish to say much to any of them, which was why he was hiding away in this spot.

His mother and father both found his lack of trust in others disconcerting. Until and unless he found a reason to trust someone, he doubted he would ever find love. Despite what his father wished, he would not marry merely for the sake of marrying. He would only marry the lady he wished. At least his mother would grant him that, although she was bound and determined that he would find such a lady.

If there is a lady out there for me…

A cotillion started, but Jasper made no move to join in. He had last danced the cotillion in Sweden, and the spectacle made his stomach churn. Two solitary months had passed, but still, the ache remained.

The lies from a woman’s tongue can leave scars that last much longer than the whip.

He had come. He had fulfilled his promise to his mother. He would leave, and leave now.

* * *

Benjamin Huxley, the Duke of Barnet, had danced so much his legs had grown rather tired. He excused himself from his partner and accepted a glass of wine from a servant as he made his way from the dance floor.

He glanced around the room, and his gaze fell on two ladies—Anna and Emily. Benjamin had not yet spoken to either this evening, and he moved to approach them when someone bumped into his back.

“Pardon me,” Benjamin said easily enough, turning to see a man stiffly adjust his overcoat.

“I must be the one to beg pardon,” the man said. “If you will—”

“I am afraid I do not recall meeting you before. You are…”

“Leaving.”

Benjamin grinned. “Leaving. Now that is a strange name.”

The man blinked a few times. “You do realize…”

“Of course.” Benjamin clasped him on the back. “Have you sampled some of the wine yet? It is exquisite.” He handed the gentleman his glass.

The man reluctantly took a sip. “Yes. It is quite good,” he muttered.

“How are you, gentlemen?” Anna asked.

Emily had approached, too, but she was looking around at the dancers, obviously trying to locate someone.

“Quite fine. Quite fine.” Benjamin held out his hand and, after Anna accepted it, brought her hand to his lips for a soft kiss.

The man beside him huffed out a breath. “Just leaving.”

“Good night to you then,” Anna said somewhat stiffly.

Intrigued, Benjamin glanced from Anna to the man and back again. Anna was one of the kindest ladies he knew. What had this man done to ruffle her so?

“You two know each other?” he asked.

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