“Only amiable?” Katherine pulled a face.

They smiled rather ruefully at each other before having their attention taken by the arrival of their partners for the upcoming set of country dances.

7

JASPER was not as totally self-absorbed as his behavior in London often suggested. He was carelessly fond of his elder sister, Rachel, who was now married to Laurence Gooding and living in the north of England with him. But he had a deep affection for Charlotte, his young half-sister. So deep, in fact, that he sometimes suspected that she had perfected the art of winding him about her little finger whenever she wanted something badly enough.

She had wanted very badly indeed to come to London with him this year after Easter, and he had brought her. But there were strict conditions attached, one of which being that she spend her days glued to the side of Miss Daniels, her erstwhile governess, now her companion, who could be relied upon to see to it that she behaved with the proper decorum at every moment. Another condition was that she clearly understand that this visit was in no way a sort of premature come-out. She was still only seventeen years old.

Her eighteenth birthday was in August. Next year she would make her debut in society. All would be done right and proper when the time came. He was still not quite sure how it would be done since Rachel was adamant in her refusal even to think about coming to London for a full Season in order to sponsor her half-sister when she had her own home and husband and family to occupy her days. And Aunt Florrie, his mother’s only sister, was an invalid and living somewhere in Cornwall. The only other possibility-Lady Forester, Charlotte’s Aunt Prunella on her father’s side of the family-was really no possibility at all. He would rather keep Charlotte as a permanent resident of the schoolroom than hand her over to the tender mercies of that particular lady. By next year he would have to think of something-some decent way of launching Charlotte into society and onto the marriage mart.

But he had brought her to town this year, bowing to her wheedling arguments that it would be to her advantage next year if this year she learned her way around London, got to know which were the best dressmakers and the best shops, acquainted herself with all the best galleries and museums and libraries-he had pursed his lips at that particular argument-and perhaps called privately upon a few older ladies who had been their mama’s particular friends.

Charlotte was his mother’s daughter by her second husband, who had died when she was not quite eight. Their mother had survived him by only five years.

Jasper lay awake thinking about Charlotte’s upcoming birthday the night after the Parmeter ball, his fingers laced behind his head, his legs crossed at the ankles. Or, to be more accurate, he was thinking about her birthday party.

It was no new thought. He had promised even before bringing her to town that she might have some sort of birthday celebration in August, after she returned home. She had concocted a happy scheme of inviting all the young people of the neighborhood for miles around to a day of frolicking in the park and an evening of charades and country dancing in the drawing room. He had been quite prepared to indulge her. One’s young sister turned eighteen only once in her life, after all.

And since that was so, he thought now, then perhaps something altogether grander than her idea would be more the thing. Something far more lavish.

His generosity of spirit did not arise entirely from a selfless motive, of course. There was another.

He gazed up at the pleated silk of the canopy over his head.

He must be mad. Not that that was any new realization.

What the devil had got into him? Why ever had he even asked her to waltz? Because she had looked so prunish?

Probably that had been it.

And why had he spent the half hour of their dance trying to wheedle her into agreeing to a double wager with him? Just to see if she could be goaded? She almost had been too, by Jove. Her interest and her pride had certainly been piqued. But she had got cold feet at the last moment.

Why had he then proceeded to pledge himself to winning his side of the nonexistent wager? Only to prove to them both that he could?

No doubt.

Did he want her in love with him, though? Of course he did not. The very thought alarmed him. It would be embarrassing for him and possibly painful for her. For all his sins, he had never set out deliberately to hurt anyone. Though he had almost done just that on their first encounter, of course.

Was that what had made him stop?

Damnation! What was it about the woman?

But he knew the answer. Of all the females he had ever known, she was the only one who had ever been able to hold her own with him verbally. He could still remember that masterly setdown she had given him at Vauxhall when she must surely have been just about expiring from shock and humiliation. She had kept pace with him earlier this evening too.

And you underestimate me! You are about as likely to persuade me to love you, Lord Montford, as I am to persuade you to love me.

Ah, yes, that was what had done it.

The woman was irresistible.

He still did not want her in love with him, though, did he?

But he did want her to admit… oh, that she was infatuated with him, perhaps.

He was attracted to Katherine Huxtable, an admission that surprised him since he never allowed himself to be attracted to any female he had no hope of bedding. What would be the point, after all, since he was certainly not looking for a leg shackle? He was attracted to Miss Huxtable, though-a strange fact when he remembered how assiduously he had avoided even thinking of her for the last three years. Was it as long ago as three? She had said it was, and women were usually good at such details.

Odd to think that he might have had her with the greatest ease three years ago. Would he still want her this year if he had had her then? Of course, this year it would not be nearly so easy. For one thing, she would now know what he was up to. For another, she was older and wiser. She was no green girl, she had said earlier. And he believed her.

It was unlikely that she could ever be persuaded to admit that she loved him-or even that she was infatuated with him. As far as he was concerned, they were one and the same thing anyway. But of course, she would be too stubborn to admit either.

He had suggested an unwinnable wager.

A quite irresistible one, in fact.

Which perhaps explained why his thoughts had strayed to Charlotte’s birthday and the idea of giving her a party on a far grander scale than he had hitherto intended.

He lay awake for a while longer, plotting and planning and yawning.

It would be diabolical, he decided just before falling off to sleep. But he would not be taking away from her even one iota of her power to tell him that he had lost his wager, would he? She could say no even before that question arose, in fact, and put an end to the wager before it started.

Like a soggy firework.

She would not say no. He would see to it that she did not.

He had a wager to win, by Jove, and he never lost a wager. Not even that once. Not really.

“I have been thinking, Char,” Jasper said at breakfast the morning after Lady Parmeter’s ball, “about your birthday.”

She glanced up from her plate.

“Have you, Jasper?” she asked rather warily.

She looked very different from Rachel and him. She was golden-haired, hazel-eyed, small, and dainty. And she seemed to have grown overnight from a girl into a young lady-one who was already turning heads on Bond Street and in Hyde Park. Male heads, by thunder. He had caught a few young bucks at it one morning and had stared them into bumbling confusion without even having to resort to the use of his quizzing glass. If he had to crack a few heads together, he would not hesitate to do it.