“And bring more harm to the lady’s reputation? I think not. And anyway, I own all the charleys in this part of town.”
He could see the moment Winter realized the truth of his statements. And the fight began to seep from him, ever so slightly. Inevitably, there was always a moment in an altercation of any sort where one party recognized the futility of the fight. Jasper had engaged in many, many fights in his life. Sometimes, to the death.
“What do you want?” Winter gritted.
Jasper’s grin deepened. “Lady Octavia as my wife. She spent the night in my bed after climbing out a window and coming to find me. It ain’t the first time she’s come to me either, Winter. But don’t worry. I’ll take better care of her than you did.”
Chapter 6
The banns had been read. The marriage contract arranged with her less-than-pleased father. Because she was over the age of one-and-twenty, Papa’s consent was not required. Neither he nor mama would be attending the ceremony. Despite that glaring omission, everything was settled. Octavia was going to be married this morning.
To Jasper Sutton.
Married.
“Are you listening, Octavia?” demanded her sister.
She blinked, staring down at the street below as she returned from her wildly tumbling thoughts. Conveyances bustled. Horses plodded along. The familiar jangling of tack reached her ears. Her forehead was pressed to the pane of glass in the gold salon. It was cool. Smooth. Her heart was pounding.
“I am listening,” she mumbled.
In truth, Mirabel’s harangue had been easy to ignore. Octavia did not want to hear all the things she had done wrong. All the missteps she had made which had led her to this inevitable choice: return to the country in shame and risk harming her beloved sister with the resulting scandal, or marry Jasper Sutton.
“Have you nothing to say?” Mirabel asked, her voice nearer.
No, not particularly.
She had taken one last chance in trying to persuade Sutton he ought to lend her his financial aid. But she had misread him, and she had pushed him too far. For some reason, he had decided that if he must take a wife, it may as well be her.
But he still had no intention of helping her with her scandal journal.
He had made that clear. The idea was foolish and would only land her in greater peril than she had previously thrust herself, he had said. So much for her fragile hopes. She had no expectation he would help her, though she would continue to pursue the matter. He had also told her he protected what was his.
And that she was his.
She shivered, though the day was not cool, merely damp.
What would it mean to be married to a man like Jasper Sutton? He was not cut from the same cloth as her brother-in-law, Damian Winter, that much was certain. He was not tender or sweet or attentive. He did not gaze upon her with his heart in his eyes as Mr. Winter did to Mirabel. Not that Octavia expected a love match. Heavens, she had not expected any match. She was a contented spinster. All she wanted was to start her scandal journal.
“I ought to have gone to you and Mr. Winter as you had advised,” she admitted to the window, sighing. “Instead of seeking out Sutton. I have no defense, save that I wanted very much to try to accomplish the journal through my own means, without having to rely upon your generosity.”
“We would have aided you, just as I said.” Mirabel’s hand landed on Octavia’s arm in comforting fashion. “Are you certain this marriage is what you wish, sister?”
“No.” She turned to Mirabel, worry tightening its hold on her. “I am not at all certain.”
She did not think Sutton would mistreat her. Not physically. But what manner of husband would he make? She could not deny the trepidation running through her was strong. Her life with her sister, brother-in-law, and the children had been pleasant. What would becoming the wife of a gaming hell owner mean for her?
Doors would close. Acquaintances would likely cut her. While Mr. Winter came from a somewhat scandalous past, he was standing for parliament. Mirabel’s position in society had aided them as well. But Octavia was not a duchess. She had never been a diamond of the first water. Her connections to the finest set were faint at best.
“You do not have to marry him,” Mirabel reminded her quietly, her expression grave.
More suited to a funeral than impending nuptials, it was true.
“My choices were limited,” she said. “Given the choice between being forced into obscurity in the countryside and becoming a companion for some cantankerous dowager, I shall take my chances with Sutton.”
“You know that I would not allow that to happen,” Mirabel said. “Mama and Papa have been harsh in their reaction, but you are always welcome to remain here with us at Tarlington House, just as you have been.”
“I cannot, Mirabel, but I thank you just the same.” Octavia shook her head. “I have caused enough troubles for you and Mr. Winter. The two of you have won society with your romance. If word of my misdeeds should be revealed, it would harm the children as well. I would not hurt any of you.”