Original Handcut Silhouette by Kathryn Flocken

Chapter Twelve

The shock of being gathered into Jasper’s embrace was so stunning to her senses that Winnie gasped. For an instant, she was not sure what to do but then, she became aware of the welcoming warmth of his strong body and arms. He was offering her the much craved comfort she was so desperately in need of. That solid realisation caused her own arms to slide up to Jasper’s neck. She reached for the square mass of his muscular shoulders, and then for the soft skin of his neck, where her fingers discovered the raven waves of his hair. Unable to restrain herself, she weaved her hand through the warm softness, and revelled in the pleasure it gave her.

Jasper became aware of the gentle caresses on the sensitive skin of his neck, and a tingle of desire ran all the way up along his spine. Lord! How very right Freddie felt in his arms…

On their own accord, his hands began exploring the soft curves of her slender body. To his delight, she had already removed the bandages, and he avidly caressed Freddie’s deliciously shaped breasts. When Freddie moaned in response, he shifted her in his arms so that his mouth could claim hers. He was in desperate need of assuaging his thirst for the soft, rosy lips, that had been tempting him, these past hours.

It was Winnie’s first kiss, ever. Jasper’s mouth was firm, and warm, and it was doing something so particularly strange to her insides that Winnie felt her knees buckle. His tongue teased her lower lip, and then his teeth worried it, sucked it until she responded. She tentatively opened her mouth to welcome him.

Jasper’s hold on her tightened, pressing her even closer to him. Somehow, it was the right thing to be so close to him, Winnie thought. While his tongue ravaged her mouth in slow strokes, tasted her, drank her, Winnie pressed closer to the hard chest, that was crushing her breasts. It should have been hurtful, yet it was not. It was delicious. Visions of Jasper without a shirt – and she remembered it vividly – were now completed by the feel of him. Her fingers worked by their own accord on the buttons of his shirt, desperate to feel what was beneath. She was not disappointed. All hard muscles, warm, velvety skin and the contrasting roughness of a sprinkle of black hair.

Her body – Winnie realised with amazement – knew what to do. She rubbed her breasts against Jasper’s torso, rejoicing in the startled groan he uttered. It was pure delight. As a tingling sensation thrilled through her body, and left a trail of quivering pleasure, all the way from the top of her head to the tips of her toes, Winnie forgot all else and surrendered to Jasper’s passion.

When raw lust swept over him like a wave, Jasper suddenly had an image of Jessie flashing through his mind. Just so had it felt when he held his dearest Jessie in his arms. The pleasure was exactly the same as when he had been on the verge of making love to Jessie, a long time ago, in their large bed. The soft, pliant curves, the lush breasts with their hardened peaks, the warm honey of the mouth, the feminine sent of lavender, it all forced Jessie’s image back into his mind, like a bolt of lightning. Only now, it was not Jessie.

He was unfaithful to her memory while he was kissing another in her stead. Worse still, while he was very close to bedding another in her stead.

With deliberate slowness, he freed his mouth and gently pushed Freddie away until their bodies no longer touched.

“I am truly sorry, Freddie. My behaviour is rude and unforgivable. I think it best that you return to your room, after all.”

He closed his eyes to ward off the vision of Freddie’s sudden hurt and hot tears. Seconds later, he heard the door close, and found himself alone, aching with need.

The next day dawned with a hint of snow in the air. The bleak countryside was buried under grey-leaden skies. It was bitterly cold, and the fields around York showed a thin blanket of frost. The mail coach horses’ breath was a white plume in the still winter air.

Other than Jasper, Fiona and Winifred, there were three passengers for the journey to Newcastle. With a twelve hour drive to endure, and the coach overly crowded, the journey promised to be miserable in every sense of the word.

Winifred sat squeezed between the coach window and Jasper, who held Fiona in his lap. Next to him sat a burly farmer, and the man had his arms around a basket containing two hens, like if it were a bucket full of golden eggs. On the bench opposite were two matrons of middle-aged years, carrying baskets of parcels, wrapped in brown paper. The third occupant was a clergyman, who was reading in a thick, black bible. They were all chattering cheerfully, apart from Winifred and Jasper. The two ladies – apparently acquainted with each other – were gossiping about their neighbours, and the farmer was addressing the clergyman with questions about some other man, they both seemed to loathe a great deal.

Winifred was feeling dejected to the point of despair.

She had not slept a wink after what she had experienced the previous night. First there had been the encounter with Bracknell and the threats he had uttered. Next – and this was far worse – Jasper Danvers had hit her hard with his rejection of her, for that was what it had been. Winnie, who had opened herself to him, had been thrown aside, without the slightest consideration for how she might feel about it. Just her bloody luck, to offer herself to the first man ever who touched her heart, and to be rejected at the same moment. And now, Jasper Danvers was conducting himself with condescending indifference as if nothing happened.

“Freddie…”

Fiona’s small voice broke through Winnie’s black melancholy, and she realised that the little girl had been quiet since they left York, which was over an hour ago.

“Yes, what is it, my sweetling?”

“Victoria says she is bored. She wants you to tell her a story.”

Winnie inwardly chuckled because of Fiona’s cleverness, which forbade her to show boredom. So the girl used her doll to accomplish her own wish.

“Give her to me,” Winifred said. “I will tell her a story, which my mother told me.”

Fiona handed her the doll with a solemn little face and turned toward Winnie, so that she could listen better. From the corner of her eye, Winifred saw Jasper accommodate his position to allow his daughter a better view.

Winifred placed Victoria on her own lap and made the doll face her.

“Now, Victoria,” she admonished, “you know your mama wants you to be a good girl. One that does not whine about being bored. Listen to the story, and then you must be content.”

Fiona giggled in response but said no more. She stuck her thumb into her mouth and settled back against her father’s chest.

“This is the story of Cinderella,” Winifred began.

Jasper winced inwardly. What a paltry choice of a fairy tale and one that spoke of a little girl without a mother to boot. Yet Fiona seemed fascinated, and her blue eyes were sparkling with anticipation. Freddie’s voice was low and deep, Jasper registered, and gradually, everyone in the coach fell silent as if mesmerized by the music of it. Every single occupant – from the farmer and the clergyman to the two chattering matrons – stared in enthralled attention at Freddie.

Jasper forced himself to look at her and could not tear his gaze away. Freddie was truly enchanting. Her face was alight with enthusiasm as she told the story of the orphaned girl and her wicked stepmother and vicious stepsisters. Her eyes glittered with hidden tears over Cinderella’s unholy fate and daily misery. Her musical voice tore at Jasper’s heart until he had to shake his head to escape the spell.

It did not work. The memory of their kiss, the previous night, sprang into his mind.

He was instantly hard with need once again. Curse it! He was a man of thirty-five, not a green stripling or schoolboy!

He closed his eyes and leaned back against the squabs, fighting to overcome his unease.

When the coach stopped in Middlesbrough for a belated luncheon, the two matrons and the farmer disappeared through the inn courtyard gate. The clergyman joined them again when the journey resumed.

Jasper noticed the curious glances the man bestowed on Freddie. The rather stocky man of the cloth had draped himself luxuriously over the bench opposite theirs and had apparently lost interest in his bible. Jasper braced himself for a prying conversation because he fancied he could see the man’s brain working to find an opening.

Sure enough, for the next moment, the clergyman pointed at the sleepy Fiona who was trying to take a nap on Freddie’s lap. “That is a fine little girl you have, young sir,” he addressed Freddie in a heavy Northern accent.

Freddie startled because she had been staring out of the window at the flat green Yorkshire landscape. “W…What? Oh, I am sorry, sir…I was not paying attention. No, she is no mine, but his.”

She gestured toward Jasper with a flick of the head.

“Oh, truly?” The clergyman said, wonderment in his voice. “I could have sworn you were her father, by the manner in which you take care of her. Are you…”

“He is my younger brother,” Jasper interrupted. “I am truly grateful that he decided to accompany me on this journey, and help me with Fiona.” He pointedly stared at the man, in an attempt to divert his interest in Freddie.

“Indeed, indeed,” the man nodded, not yet ready to let go of the subject. “And are you travelling all the way to Scotland?”

“Yes, we are,” Jasper replied. “And you, sir? Are you on your way North, all the way, too?”

“To Newcastle, I am afraid. I am taking up a position at St Nicholas Cathedral as a canon. It is my home town, but I spent my life in Oxford for the last thirty years so it will be a happy reunion after so long a time.

“Let me congratulate you, then,” Jasper said in a jovial tone. “I am certain you are deserving to be in the town of your youth after so successful a career.”

“Indeed, indeed,” the clergyman continued, then narrowed his beady black eyes again. “Are you widowed, sir? I see no female companion here.”

“I am,” Jasper replied, as curtly as he could muster, in the hope it would cut the man off. No such luck.

“Ah, how sad,” the man tutted. “The Good Lord taketh and giveth in an equal way, as the Scriptures teach us. You should endeavour to find a good woman and give the child a mother, once again, sir.”

Jasper felt his already inflamed temper boil at this meddling comment. “I am most offended, sir,” he burst out. “It is none of your business to try and…” That was when Freddie placed a small hand on his arm to calm him. He turned to look at her and saw the plea in her dark eyes. He snapped his mouth shut and resumed a stony silence, staring out the window.

The clergyman, however, was not to be deterred. “My good sir, I cannot see why you should be offended by my well-intentioned attempt, to be of assistance in your predicament. My vocation as a man of the cloth commands me to help my fellow men when I witness their struggle in life You are in need of a female companion, and it is my duty to make you see reason.”

“His wife died in childbirth,” Freddie said in a low voice. She adjusted the sleeping Fiona in her lap, grateful that the child did not have to hear all this. “My brother has not yet coped with her death. Please refrain from further comments, sir, I beg you.”

The clergyman nodded. To Jasper’s astonishment, he again opened his bible and began reading it. Jasper searched for Freddie’s gaze, but she had already turned away.

A warm feeling rose inside him as Jasper inwardly reconstructed the conversation. Freddie had defended him. She had taken his side, without thinking, without qualms. He had not expected that after the way he had treated her the evening before.

Shame squeezed his heart as Jasper recalled his appalling behaviour.

Lord Almighty, but he must have appeared an utter fool! He should have considered all that Freddie had gone through before he totally forgot himself. All the anguish she must have endured through that blackguard Bracknell, and the pain she must have experienced during Bracknell’s manhandling of her. And he, Jasper had not even asked if she came out unharmed. No, instead he had all but ravished her with his lust and his kisses. He was no better than Bracknell.

But – dear God! What a kiss that had been…Jasper could summon the feel of Freddie in his arms, once again, and the way she had kissed him back. It had rocked the sheer fundaments of his senses! How right she had felt in his arms. All that wonderful plethora of emotions overwhelming him, until the memory of Jess brought him back to reality. Jess…Always Jess…And, as Freddie so rightly pointed out, the fact that he had still not coped with Jess’s death.

When he had accompanied his Jessie to her last resting-place, Jasper had made a vow to his beloved wife’s memory, and that was never to give his heart to another woman, ever again. Of course, he had known lust again. He was, after all, still a man in the prime of his life. He had quelled that lust with the occasional courtesan, in London’s many bawdy houses, whenever the need became too urgent. How would he have survived without doing so, otherwise?

It had been lust, last night, of course, it had. Nothing but pure carnal desire to tear off Freddie’s clothes and take her then and there, with a desire so strong it had taken every ounce of his control to resist the massive urge. Not only had he needed Jessie’s memory to set the lure of Freddie’s luscious body aside, but also, some other, more puzzling feeling. Jasper had not wanted to quell his lust with sweet, young, innocent Freddie Preston. Somehow it had seemed the vilest thing to do in the world, and he would not stoop to defiling a maiden.

It was past nine in the evening when they finally arrived at the Old George Inn in Newcastle, a stately Georgian three story building. By then, Fiona was exhausted, so Jasper carried her inside. The innkeeper, a tall, burly man in his forties with a bald head rushed to meet the guests.

“A room for me and my brother, and with a cot for my daughter, if you please.”

Winifred caught the bark of Jasper’s words as she hurried after them. Wretched man! She was not going to spend the night in his room, not by any means! Only then she remembered she was dressed as a man, which meant she could not just contradict Jasper’s orders without raising suspicious looks. Jasper had just proclaimed her his brother. Drat. She bit her lip and followed them upstairs, where she heard Jasper order a bath and some hot food. The innkeeper bowed and left.

Winnie was about to scold Jasper when Fiona woke with a plaintive cry. “Papa…I am so hungry…”

“Come, my sweet, Papa will care for you.”

“I want Freddie to wash me,” Fiona whined. “Freddie is so much better at it than you. You always rub soap in my eyes when you wash my hair.”

And so it was Winnie who bathed Fiona, and afterwards, combed and dried her hair while Jasper was feeding her chicken broth and bread. Fiona relaxed visibly, and when she had finished, she yawned.

“I want to go to sleep, Freddie. Will you tell me the story of Cinderella again?”

“Of course, sweetheart,” Winnie complied.

While the story was being told, Winnie saw Jasper disappear behind the screen, to bathe. She had to concentrate hard, the whole time that splashing sounds could be heard from the tub. Worse, she could just imagine that long, hard body relaxing in the warm water, the cloth lathering soap onto that silken, tanned skin, Jasper’s finely honed muscles working while he cleansed himself. Holy Mother of God, she felt sweat breaking out all over her body! What was wrong with her? And what was Jasper thinking, acting as if he were alone in the room, instead of in a young lady’s presence? He was probably doing it on purpose, to make her feel wanton and discomforted! Well, she had no business thinking about the father when she was telling a story to the daughter. Resolutely, Winifred concentrated on Fiona.

Original Handcut Silhouette by Kathryn Flocken

Chapter Eleven

And there it was, Jasper acknowledged. The question he had been asking himself for the last couple of minutes, and to which he had no true answer. Why had he suddenly decided that Freddie should become the next Countess of Trewarth?

He abruptly let go of Freddie’s hands, and sighed.

“For two reasons, Freddie,” he said, his voice giving way involuntarily. “First, I was desperate to find a woman willing to become my wife on short notice so that I can gain my rightful title. You were the first to cross my path, and I find you are well suited to fulfil the conditions, laid upon me by the Earl. Secondly, I am truly delighted with the manner you interact with my little Fiona and the way she responds to you. Fiona is the one that I cherish most in life, Freddie, and she likes you. That is what decided me ultimately, Freddie. You must be a good person because my Fiona already trusts you. If you will have me for a husband, you shall not regret it, as long as you agree to be a mother to Fiona.”

Winifred realised with a considerable shock that his eyes were burning into hers. She had not expected that from the matter-of-fact tone in which he had just stated his reasons for marrying her. It had all sounded so cold and businesslike. Jasper did not say that he cared for her and that hurt, more than she would like to admit. She was developing feelings for this man, and they frightened her. So now, when his eyes seemed to burn their way right into her soul, Winnie was lost. And confused, too. She needed to think, force her thoughts into some shred of order.

When the call for the last round came – indicating that the taproom was about to be closed for the night – Winifred stood. “I shall give you my answer after we reach Edinburgh, Jasper. First I have to learn about my father’s inheritance. I bid you goodnight.” And up the stairs she went, leaving Jasper to stare after her in astonishment.

Alone in his room on the floor above, Aloysius Bracknell clenched his fists in a sudden fit of rage. That brazen Lansing chit had found herself an ally!

Damnation! Rage coursed through him at the realisation that he had nearly overlooked the thin youth coming down the stairs. Oh, she had disguised herself very cleverly, indeed. She must have cut her hair, he mused. And, most importantly, she had managed to cling to that tall, strong fellow. The man must know she was not a young buck because he had not failed to see Aloysius’ interest in Miss Lansing, and had promptly hailed her to him as his ‘little brother’. Damnation, again! Aloysius hoped he had not given himself away because he meant to have the last say in this!

Winifred stepped into her room. She had barely closed the door when she was grabbed from behind. Her arms were being pinned on her back and wrenched upward, the movement lancing a sharp pain through her shoulders. The air was forced out of her while she was pressed against a wall by Bracknell.

“Well, ‘Freddie’…, He drawled, “I do not know if that fellow knows you for the minx you are, but I, on the other hand, recognised you right away. Did you reckon you could escape me, then? You had so unexpectedly disappeared from London after your mother’s death. Thanks to my cleverness, I knew for certain that you would go to Edinburgh. I took the precaution to read the letters that your mother so carelessly left on her desk. I think that Mr Archibald Spencer, your solicitor might have a pleasant surprise for you.”

Winifred gasped for air when his heavy body squeezed hers against the wall. She tried to free herself, but it was like trying to move the wall itself. Her mind was numb with fear – and fury because this scoundrel had apparently wormed his way into her home and taken advantage of her mother’s goodness! She gasped in fury which instantly made Bracknell tighten his hold on her.

“No sound, my girl, or I must do something nasty to you. I will not hesitate to inflict pain on you. You cannot escape me, wench, once I have set my mind on you. Not with the possibility of a fortune awaiting you in Edinburgh!”

Winnie was desperate enough to try and bluff her way out of this predicament.

“Mr Bracknell, let go of me this instant! You are breaching every rule of propriety, sir!”

His hold only tightened once more, and Winnie’s vision began blurring as her shoulders ached with a wrenching pain. Bracknell’s harsh voice sounded dimmed, but his angrily hissed words were still audible.

“What is your game, you little bitch? Are you trying to get that big oaf to marry you? Well, it is not about to happen. You will marry me and sign over all your money to me, do you hear! I know, for a fact, that you stand to inherit a fortune from your American father, because I stole those letters from your mother’s house, a long while ago. I could not have your suspicions of me come to life, could I? So listen what I want you to do. You will continue your journey and seek out that solicitor. Your bloke cannot be allowed to become suspicious, so you are going on as you were, posing as a boy.”

“No, no…I cannot…”

Winnie’s shoulders ached so much that she had to bite her lip to keep from screaming, but Bracknell’s grip did not loosen.

“Quiet, you conniving wench! I should horsewhip you for trying to double-cross me! Now, in Edinburgh, we will get a special license and marry. I will take you back to London and put you in one of my lesser tenements. There you will be at my disposal whenever I want you because you will have no other choice as my wife. You shall have only the tiniest amount of money, enough to keep a modest household. The rest of all that beautiful blunt will go to my very lucrative investments.”

Horror coursed through Winnie when she pictured all the scenes Bracknell described. How was it possible that she had experienced no such terrifying suspicions of him before? She must have been blind! She had to do something, her blurred mind screamed at her, but her body was limp and weak. Her aching shoulders prevented her from moving, and Bracknell was not loosening his grip.

Then, the temporary silence between them was broken by a knock on the door. Bracknell loosened his hold, just enough to pull a small clasp knife out of his pocket. He placed the blade against Winnie’s throat and whispered, “Answer that without opening the door, will you.”

“Freddie? Are you well?”

Jasper’s voice sounded muffled from behind the door but oh, how delightful it was to Winifred!

“Caution!” Bracknell hissed in her ear.

Winifred gasped, then coughed because of the pressure Bracknell exerted on her throat.

The knife point nicked her skin with a sharp pain. “I advise you to make him go away, woman.”

“Yes, Jasper, I…I am…W… Well, and very tired. Good night…” Fear coloured her voice with a stutter.

Silence. Then Fiona’s small voice was heard, wailing sharply. A second later, Jasper’s footsteps retreated from her door.

Bracknell snickered in appreciation, when he heard Jasper retreat to his room.

“Good work, missie! You could have gotten a job in Drury Lane with that quality of performance.”

With a hard shove, he suddenly propped her face first against the wall. The knife never left Winnie’s throat, where a sharp, short stab once again nicked the delicate skin. She felt the warm trickle of blood running over the delicate skin of her throat.

“This is the plan, wench. You will continue your journey, dressed as a boy, in the company of that fellow, and you do not say a word about me. I will not be travelling with the coach, but I shall be waiting in Edinburgh when it arrives. You will not see me, but I will be able to observe you at all times. My street days in London come to good use, when I want to spy on people without being seen. Go to the solicitor and claim your inheritance. I will be waiting, my lovely!”

Without forewarning, Bracknell punched Winnie in the lower back, and wrenched her arms upward one last time, which made her double up with fierce pain. The light was dimming when she heard Bracknell leave the room.

Peering through the crack of the door, Jasper felt his rage burn when he watched Bracknell sneak out of Freddie’s room. So he had been right after all, and that snake had approached her. Barely waiting for the man to disappear to his own room on the floor above, Jasper locked his door and hurried toward Freddie. Not bothering to knock, he went inside – and froze. Freddie was lying unconscious on the floor, causing his heart to leap in fear.

Jasper knelt by her side and carefully turned her over, placing her head into his lap. Lord, but she was hurt! A narrow trickle of blood ran from her throat and down onto her white shirt. What had that bastard been planning to do to her? Possession – fierce as a burst of flames – coursed through him. The inexplicable but immense need to protect Freddie dawned on him. He refused to go deeper into that sensation, for now. Freddie needed care, so he picked her up and brought her to his own room. When he lay her down onto his bed, Freddie’s eyes fluttered and opened.

“Jasper? What…”

“Shhh, be still, Freddie. You are hurt, and I must see to it first. You do not need to worry, dear girl. I have you safe. What has that blackguard done to you?”

“Nothing, truly…Ouch!”

Freddie winced when Jasper dipped a wet cloth on her throat, to cleanse the small wound she had sustained through Bracknell’s hand.

“Tell me everything, Freddie. Now.”

Winifred acknowledged the solid determination in Jasper’s voice and complied.

She narrated the story her mother told her, about her father dying just a few days after she was born. About Mama taking her to London, and making a life for herself and her small daughter. About Bracknell’s stalking, first in a civil manner, but now showing his true character. When she came to Bracknell’s plans for her, Winifred could not stop her voice from breaking. She swallowed her tears, not wishing to appear weak, but it was hard to keep up her courage.

Throughout Freddie’s story, Jasper had only felt his anger against Bracknell increase. He did not wish such a fate for Freddie because she was courageous, and witty, and sweet. Freddie deserved to be loved, not to be cowered into submission by a cruel scoundrel and reprobate. A marriage to Bracknell would destroy Freddie, for sure. Jasper could not let that happen, and he was now even more determined than ever to marry the girl himself.

“Listen,” Jasper said, when Freddie paused, “we will do as I said before and continue to Edinburgh together. What is the name of your solicitor in Edinburgh?”

“Mr Archibald Spencer. His office is in The Royal Mile, I believe.”

Oh, irony, Jasper thought, but he did not inform her about his own involvement with Spencer.

Freddie started to rise from the bed. “Thank you for looking after me, Jasper, but I will go to my own room now. We do not want to wake Fiona.”

“I think it better if you were to stay here, Freddie.”

In astonishment, Winifred stared at him. Then she understood and felt a sudden outrage. Jasper Danvers was no better – yet again – than Bracknell! He wanted her in his bed. She quickly jumped from the bed on the opposite side as to where Jasper was standing and started to run.

Surprised but quickly grasping what Freddie might have been thinking, Jasper covered the distance between them with his longer strides and caught her arm. His voice was an low, but urgent whisper.

“Freddie, wait! You misunderstood. I mean to protect you from further harassment from Bracknell. That man is dangerous, Freddie, and I cannot allow him to have easy access to you.”

Winifred looked up at him, confusion in her eyes.

“Jasper,” she ventured gently, “you are not under any obligation to protect me. I am obliged to you for helping me so far, but I shall no longer impose upon your good nature.”

“On the contrary, Freddie,” Jasper insisted, “since you are to be my countess, I feel by honour bound to protect you. At least, I shall assist you until I am certain that you are safely seen to.”

“Safely seen to? I do not understand…And I did not agree to marry you.”

She tilted her head in confusion, burning her dark, luminous gaze into his. Instantly, Jasper felt himself drown into those brown eyes. In an impulse, which he could not have quelled for the life of him, Jasper drew her close.

Original Handcut Silhouette by Kathryn Flocken

Chapter Ten

She should have anticipated Jasper seeing through her disguise, Winifred realised. It had been a shabby one since she had no notion how young men behaved. How they walked, and talked, and all the other things they did, things she knew she messed up. Yet she had to think of a new strategy, at this moment. She had no time to wallow in her failure.

“Come down with me to the taproom,” Jasper interrupted her thoughts.

“What?” Winifred uttered, blinking in stunned surprise.

“We cannot talk here,” He urged, his voice suddenly gone hoarse. “We need the safety of a crowd. Let us go downstairs, have a glass of ale, and then you can explain all this to me.”

It sounded like a command, Winifred mused, and yet she was unable to resist it. Why did they need to be in the presence of other people? And what was that fiery yet suppressed look in his blue eyes? Jasper seemed to be in some sort of distress. Puzzled, she grabbed her coat and set off to follow Jasper. He turned to her on his way to the door and said in a wry tone, “You might want to do something to…Those.” He then pointed at her chest.

Christ! She had forgotten that she had already untied her breasts! Her cheeks were in flames in a second, and she covered her face with her hands.

“Oh, come on, Freddie,” Jasper said, his voice mild and comforting. “You owe me, you know. After all, we are travelling companions. Come when you are ready.” And he left the room.

Jasper found a table near the hearth of the taproom and ordered a bottle of burgundy. Not every inn could boast on serving French wine, with the growing enmity between France and England, but The Golden Fleece actually served it as one of the few pubs outside London. He surveyed the room with caution and was glad to see that there were but a few patrons left. They looked like regulars, Jasper thought, and he knew they would not bother guests that stayed the night. The landlord would see to that.

He was in turmoil. First, Fiona had called for her mother, which she had never, ever done before. Why would a child call for her mother whom she had never known? It unsettled Jasper to the extreme, and he was at a loss about how to handle this.

Next, why, by Jove, had he blurted out that stupid remark about needing the safety of people? He was the one who needed that, because all of a sudden, his gaze had locked on Freddie’s lawn shirt, right on the spots where her rosy nipples pressed against the thin material. An answering tightness in his groin followed suit, causing anger to blaze inside him. He cursed himself for lusting after the first female breasts he set eyes on in months. Granted the fact that it had been a long time since he had visited Pat O’Brien’s brothel, it still was weak of him to succumb to temptation so readily. Would he betray Jessie’s memory with the wayward thoughts a total stranger instilled in him? He grabbed his glass and took a deep swallow of wine.

The front door opened, and a man entered. Jasper turned his gaze toward him. Just a late customer, seeking lodgings for the night, he assumed. The man had the appearance of a gentleman if one judged him by his clothes. His greatcoat had three collars and was made of exquisite superfine wool. His stature, however, was that of a man used to manual labour, with heavy, broad shoulders and a barrel-like chest. Jasper estimated the man’s height to a good 6’, three inches shorter than his own height.

The landlord rushed forward to greet the newcomer.

“How can I be of service, sir?”

“Do you have a young, unaccompanied lady amongst your customers, at this moment?”

That forward question was barked at the landlord, in an accent that unmistakeably was London, albeit subdued. The poor landlord was thoroughly surprised, Jasper saw.

“Why are you asking, sir? Are you a magistrate? ‘Cause if you aren’t, I can’t give you any information about…”

“She is my ward. Is there a young lady staying here or not? The question is uncomplicated enough.”

The words sounded flat and cold as if the man were only slightly interested in the reply, but his pale grey eyes scanned the room with keen coldness, taking in every detail and every occupant.

“No, sir. You’ll find no young ladies here,” The landlord reluctantly asnwered, but his customer was still surveying the taproom. He grunted absent-mindedly at the landlord.

Something suspicious awakened in Jasper’s mind. To his own surprise, he became vigilant as if he were sensing some kind of trouble. The hairs at the back of Jasper’s neck pricked as he saw the man’s gaze wander to Freddie, who was just coming down the stairs in her male attire. The man studied Freddie for a couple of minutes, and his eyes narrowed in concentration. At that precise moment, Freddie saw the stranger and to Jasper’s astonishment, she literally froze. Her face grew white as a sheet, and her eyes were filled with horror. This man was no stranger to her, and more so, he seemed to scare the living daylights out of her.

On an impulse, Jasper rose and lifted his arm. “Here, brother!” He called out to Freddie, who – thankfully! – turned her head to look at him. Then she proceeded her walk down the stairs, and towards their table.

The man’s scrutinizing eyes wandered from Freddie to the waiting landlord. “Can I have a room for tonight?” He asked the man, who bowed and invited him upstairs.

Freddie was shaking head to toe, Jasper saw. She sat down to grip her glass of wine, lifted it and drank deeply from it.

“Who is that fellow, Freddie? You are shaking like a leaf in the wind, and your face is ashen. Talk to me.”

Freddie looked at him, the frightening horror barely lessened in her dark eyes.

“His name is Aloysius Bracknell,” she breathed, “and he tried to bully me into marrying him.”

Her lovely face just became a shade whiter, if possible. Jasper did not understand yet, what was haunting her so.

“And?” He prompted. “He seems a gentleman, judging by his clothes if not by his manners, which were a trifle on the rude side. If you dislike him, you can simply refuse him, can you not?”

“You do not comprehend,” Freddie said, tears now pooling in her eyes. “I am not yet of age, but I have my father’s inheritance to claim, and Bracknell knows that. He wants to lay his hands on my father’s money, taking me as his wife in the bargain. He is cruel and vindictive. I would spend my days in misery, were I to become his wife. He already threatened to compromise me, and frighten me into complying more readily to his proposal.”

She valiantly strove to swallow her tears, and the vulnerability of it tore at Jasper’s heart.

“So that is why you fled London, dressed as a man,” He concluded, in a quiet voice. “Because that was what you were doing, was it not? You literally fled London to escape this Bracknell fellow.”

“Yes,” Freddie whispered, misery written all over her face. “I first wanted to learn about my father’s inheritance. I hoped for a bit of money so that I could be independent. And now it is all for nought. He must have recognized me, just now. Oh, what shall I do? I am desperate!”

“Well,” Jasper replied in a calm tone of voice, “it is quite uncomplicated, Freddie. You must become my wife, instead of Bracknell’s.”

If Jasper had slapped her across the face, Winifred could not have been more stunned than she felt at that moment. Stunned…And, for some inexplicable reason, hurt beyond the pale. Jasper had just made her feel a fool and mocked her for it. She had been on the verge of confiding in him because she had come to trust him during the two days of their journey together. His tender love for his small daughter was what had breached Winifred’s natural reserve toward strangers. The care he showed, not only for Fiona, but also for Winifred herself, or for Freddie as she must have been seen by him. In Jasper’s eyes, she must have looked an unsure, young man, who needed help to reach his destination because he was alone on this long journey. Jasper gave Freddie that help, and it was what had touched Winifred deeply.

Until now, at this moment, when Jasper shattered it all by his flippant reaction to Winnie’s desperate situation. He was mocking her, for sure. Why would a total stranger want to marry a woman he met only the day before? It was utterly absurd – even cruel.

Cruel? Yes. Because she had begun to have feelings for Jasper Danvers.

A pain so sharp, that it tore at her very heart, engulfed Winifred. She was barely able to stay seated upright at the rough wooden tap room table, but instead, wanted to bury her face into her arms and cry her heart out from sheer despair and loneliness. She squeezed her eyes shut, and tried to hold back the silly tears that came from having placed her trust in this man. He was no better than Bracknell, not a whit.

The second the words came out, Jasper could not understand why he had spoken them. It had been utterly impulsive, and Jasper was never into acting impulsively, and never had been. Correction, the only time he had acted on an impulse was when he married Jessie. Their love had been so powerful that neither of them had been able to wait. They had longed to be united as soon as possible. Oh, Jess... The memory of her still had the power to strike him with deep distress, time and time again.

He mentally shook himself and focussed on the problem at hand. With his impulsive words, Jasper had indeed embroiled himself in a nasty predicament, so he had better do some intelligent thinking, for a change.

What was he so desperately in need for, since he received the family solicitor’s letter, he asked himself. Well, that was clear enough. He had to be well and truly wed, in order to have access to his inheritance. And here was a female in need of protection from a villain who wanted to lay his hands on her inheritance.

Could he find someone else than this wayward chit, before his grandfather turned eighty, he wondered? No, not a chance in hell. Not on so short a notice. So Freddie would have to do. He could always divorce her, once his grandfather would have…

No! Jasper could not for the life of him contemplate the old ruffian gone. Despite the old earl’s rough temper and stubborn doggedness, he loved his grandfather, even admired and liked him, once in a while. And, all of a sudden, Jasper realised that he longed for a reconciliation with the old grump so that Trewarth again became his and Fiona’s home.

So Freddie would have to be the woman, who would allow Jasper to try and accomplish that immense feat. And, as he already realised before, he could always divorce her, once he would have gained his inheritance.

“Why are you heading to Edinburgh, Freddie? What business have you to attend in that fair city?”

There were a few matters that needed clarification, so Jasper resolutely plunged on. Until he saw Freddie’s face. Tears were running down Freddie’s pale cheeks, and her eyes were vague as if she were stripped of all hope.

A peculiar feeling stirred inside Jasper’s chest as if the air had left his lungs. He could not have felt so winded if someone had kicked him in the stomach. He gripped Freddie’s icy cold hands and forced her to focus on him.

“Freddie…Look at me! I apologize for blurting it out so bluntly, but I am most serious about my proposal. Allow me to explain.”

That brought on a reaction in so far that the girl now  looked at him with suspicion. Yet she kept silent which, in turn, gave Jasper leave to continue.

“My family lives near Inverness. We are what the Scots call ‘Sassenachs’, or the descendants of the English usurpers that overtook the estates from the native Scottish lairds after the Glorious Revolution that banished the Stuarts. My great-grandfather was one of those, and our estate was granted by William and Mary in 1689.”

Jasper paused when he saw the interest return in Freddie’s eyes. Good. That was good.

“Recently, my father died,” He resumed and raised a hand when he noticed the concern on Freddie’s face. “No need for condolences, dear girl. We were estranged for more than ten years.”

“Why were you estranged?” Freddie threw in before Jasper could stop her.

“Because of my grandfather and his stubborn ways. All he cares about is the estate, and he will do whatever is necessary to enhance its wealth and prosperity. My father never had the courage to stand up to him, and I ended up hating him for it. Together, we could have found a way to make the Earl see reason, but my father refused to stand by me. My grandfather is a tyrant, Freddie. He wants me to marry a Scottish girl in order to be the next Earl of Trewarth. Are you – by any chance – from Scottish descent?”

“I am partly Scottish,” Freddie said, frowning. “Mama was Scottish, but Papa was American. That is all I know for sure, Jasper. I was going to Edinburg, to see our solicitor and ask him about my family.”

Disappointment slammed into Jasper like a blow.

Freddie was American? Blast it all to hell, this was disastrous! The Earl would never accept an American as his grandson’s wife. Unless…The Earl was unaware of it. Jasper would see to it that his grandfather would never find out. The thought of losing Freddie after they would reach Edinburgh suddenly made him uneasy. Besides, this was too good an opportunity to thwart his dictatorial grandfather. If Jasper turned up at Trewarth Castle with a wife, the Earl would be faced with a fait accompli. Freddie was half Scottish, at least on the maternal side.

“Well then,” Jasper said, gently squeezing Freddie’s hands, “let us see what we can do once we will have reached Edinburgh. Keep your male attire as a disguise, Freddie. It will fend off all unwanted attention. Do not worry about this Bracknell fellow. I will be with you and keep you safe.”

Winifred was utterly confused by this wholly unexpected proposal. She needed an explanation, preferably one that would reassure her a bit more. The warmth of Jasper’s hold on her skin befuddled her greatly as it was so comforting and strong. She only knew she liked Jasper’s touch, his strength, his explicit masculinity. With an effort, she gathered her thoughts and asked, “Is your predicament truly that serious, then? Can you not claim your title without having a wife?”

“No,” Jasper answered, in a level tone, “I cannot. I must be married before the 14^th of February next, which is less than three months from now. If I cannot accomplish that, my grandfather will simply return the earldom to the Crown of England, for the king to bestow it upon someone else. I cannot not bear to think of that, Freddie. It is too disastrous. I love my home, the Trewarth estate and its hard-working people, who depend on their master for their livelihood. I want to make it stronger than it already is, and be the best Third Earl of Trewarth for generations to come.”

The quiet determination in which Jasper had spoken these words made a deep impression on Winifred and she became aware of Jasper Danvers’ deeply engrained nobility and pride. Winnie had to swallow the lump in her throat before she was able to continue. “Why are you considering me as your future wife, Jasper? We only met two days ago. I have no wealth, no noble breeding, no connections. I am a simple London teacher with no grand prospects.”

Original Handcut Silhouettte by Kathryn Flocken

Chapter Nine

The lunch at the White Stag in Doncaster, a modest establishment with a half-timbered white-washed facade was abysmal, but the travellers were glad to have something warm in their bellies. It was growing colder and gloomier by the minute.

“I ‘ope we’ll reach York ‘ere it starts snowin’,” their coachman said, his voice already gloomy enough.

“Snowing?” Winifred asked in alarm, “Does it already snow in November here?”

“Aye, laddie,” the man replied, “an’ it goes on ‘till April if we are t’ ‘ave a ‘arsh winter.”

Winifred lifted her gaze to Jasper, who raised his shoulders in philosophical resignation.

“Do not be alarmed,” he whispered to her. “Those coachmen are always worried they will have to plough through inches of snow. I am sure it will not be that dramatic.”

Soon they were on their way again, to tackle the rest of the journey to York. It was forty miles,  so not that long.

Fiona had fallen asleep yet again on her father’s lap, so Jasper and Freddie were enjoying the warmth of a heated stone at their feet in silence. The stones were no luxury as it was rather chilly inside the carriage. Winifred shivered now and then, although she tried to suppress her trembling.

“Would you be so good as to open my bag, and retrieve a blanket, Freddie?” Jasper asked. “I do not want Fiona to catch a sniffle.”

Winifred obliged and draped the blanket over Jasper’s form. She envied them their blanket and wished she had brought one, too. She shivered violently, all of a sudden.

“Feel free to join us, Freddie,” Jasper’s quiet voice came from the corner where he sat. “No use getting ill, when there is a solution to it.”

Winifred did not reflect on this because she was glad to do as he told her. There was no one to see her, now. No one but Jasper, who thought she was a man. So she cautiously scooted closer to Jasper and draped the blanket over herself. A delicious warmth instantly overwhelmed her, and she sighed in delight.

Once again assaulted by her lavender scent, Jasper strove to divert his sudden rampant thoughts of Freddie’s soft body. Blast it all to hell! What was he thinking? He cleared his throat and decided to strike up a conversation.

“You seem to have a way with children,” he began, “Have you had any experience with them in London?”

Winifred hesitated. Should she reveal something of her life to him? But then, what would it matter? In a few days, they would part.

“I once was a teacher,” Winifred replied. “I love it. Children are so fascinating, so worth discovering in their uniqueness and in the talents they have yet to develop. I taught gi…Erm children of every age, from six to twelve.”

That had been a slip of the tongue, Jasper knew, at least a partial one. She had almost mentioned girls instead of children.

“And this was in the Charing Cross area?” He pressed on, casually.

“Yes, at the St Mi…”

She abruptly shut her mouth, and Jasper, who already knew enough, stopped his inquiries.

“You do not have to tell me anything, Freddie. I did not want to pry into your personal life.”

Winifred could not, for the life of her, give him some shred of explanation, without revealing that she was a woman. So she kept silent, and felt extremely embarrassed for not trusting Jasper Danvers with her secret. But she had to keep her secret to herself, had she not? She did not know Jasper Danvers well enough and never would, too. But blast it all to hell! He was so kind and charming that it was hard not to blurt it all out to him. She would have to be more careful, in the future.

It was again late that night when they reached The Golden Fleece Inn on the Pavement in York. Winifred felt absolutely exhausted, and she hoped there would be a room for her, but a separate one, away from Jasper. She needed to bathe and remove those dreadful bandages from her aching breasts.

It took Winifred several moments to entangle herself from Jasper’s blanket after he had disappeared into the inn with Fiona. No doubt, he would be impatient to get his daughter a supper and a bed. When she finally entered the common room, Winifred found it almost empty, but for a few last stragglers. It must be near closing time, then.

The landlady popped her head around the kitchen door, as soon as Winifred called out for someone.

“Oh, forgive me, young sir! Didn’t know there was another customer! Are you wanting a room for the night?”

“Yes, please,” Winifred answered, in the deepest voice she could muster.

“Come with me, then.”

The landlady preceded Winifred up the stairs and showed her to a room, on the broad landing. It was just opposite the stairs. “I’ll be sending one of my girls up with supper and hot water, sir.”

“Thank you, that would be most kind.”

A long time after, Winifred was finally able to settle to sleep between the sweetly scented sheets of the large bed, relaxed by a delicious hot bath and an excellent supper of beef stew, vegetables and freshly baked bread. She was asleep in mere seconds.

At Fiona’s first, loud and thoroughly anguished cry, Winifred sat up in bed. What was happening? Why was the child screaming so? Winifred shot out of bed, slipped on her shirt, breeches and coat and pushed her bare feet into her boots. She then went into the direction of the heart-wrenching sobs and to a room further down the corridor. The door was unlocked, so she entered. Inside the room, it was utter misery.

Fiona was now crying as hard as she could do so, fighting off her father’s attempts to comfort her with clenched fists. “Mama! I want Mama! You must fetch her, now! Mama!”

The next moment, Fiona had pushed Jasper away and was rolling on the floor, banging her little fists and screaming like a banshee. Jasper Danvers was at an utter loss. His face was haggard, and his hair was standing on end, but what truly cut through Winifred’s heart, was the look of total despair in his blue eyes. No, she thought, it was up to her to restore some peace and quiet here.

With a frown, she placed her hands on her waist and shouted, “What the devil is going on in here? Is there a fire-breathing dragon in the room? Let me get my magic sword so that I can slay it!”

Winifred went over to the fireplace and grabbed the poker, which she started brandishing about her in exaggerated thrusts. “Where are you, beast? Show yourself! Ah, there you are!” She made some faint trusts toward Jasper, who was staring at her in sheer bewilderment.

However, Fiona had stopped shrieking and was now giggling. “No, Freddie, that is my Papa! There is no dragon, you silly!”

Winifred laid down the poker and sank down on her knees beside Fiona. The little girl went into Winifred’s arms like a dove returning home after a mile-long voyage.

“Freddie…” Fiona sighed. “Freddie, do not ever leave me, please? I love you, Freddie…”

A huge lump in Winifred’s throat had first to be swallowed before she was able to say something. But she did. “I love you, too, Fiona, sweetheart.”

She then made the mistake looking up and meeting Jasper’s eyes. The hurt in them was immense, and it sliced through Winifred’s heart like a blade. With a startling realisation, she knew she had somehow temporarily driven him away from his daughter’s affection. Winifred, a total stranger, had been preferred by Fiona over her own father.

Fiona yawned exhausted as she was by her crying. “Come on, damsel,” Winifred joked, “let me tuck you in. Here is Victoria, and she is truly tired. You must both sleep now. Tomorrow, we shall be on our way to Edinburgh, once again.”

The child made no protest, gathered her doll in her arms and fell into a deep sleep, as soon as her head touched the pillow. Winifred arranged the covers neatly around her small form, then straightened.

“I shall return to my own bed now too,” she said. “Goodnight, Jasper.”

But his voice stopped her before she reached the door.

“We have to talk,” he said, and took her by the arm, nearly dragging her out of the room.

Winifred had no inkling of why Jasper would want to talk, but she followed him outside. He gestured toward her own room, still holding her arm. She began to feel a little alarmed because his grip was going to give her bruises if he kept his grasp that firmly on her. But under the circumstances, she had no choice but to follow him inside her room and let him make her sit down with a thump. He did not take a seat, but stood towering over her, arms crossed over his chest, and scowling down at her. Even in the poor candlelight, his eyes were blazing blue diamonds of fury.

“The game is up, Miss Preston,” Jasper said, in a clipped, barely controlled voice. “You had better tell me your story.”

Original Handcut Silhouette by Kathryn Flocken

Chapter Eight

Winifred lay on her narrow cot and listened to the sounds in the room, now audible, once the inn had turned silent for the night. There was the quiet crackle of the fire, the deep red glow throwing shadows on the walls. There was Fiona’s soft breathing from across the room, with an occasional sigh, produced by the child’s dreaming. There was also the creaking coming from the direction of Jasper’s bed, a frequent sound that stood witness for his fitful sleep. She could sympathize with that, Winifred sighed. She, too, had not yet slept a wink, assailed as she had been by feelings she had never known before. Never before had Winifred experienced the strange yearning that seemed to fill her entire person, whenever she looked at Jasper – no, not only then, also when she did nothing else but think of him. He was so extremely handsome, and not only on the exterior, but also inwardly. He possessed a kindness, an ability to read people’s needs and show adequate compassion in return.

It had been from the first moment she set eyes on him, Winifred realised. That sense of trust, of dependability, of honesty that emanated from his strong, yet kind personality, that was what had appealed to her, especially now, when she was in a vulnerable position. She felt a bit guilty, though, for posing as a man because she had come to care what Jasper might think of her.

That was yet another matter, Winifred mused. She and Jasper had only met less than twenty-four hours ago, so why she would be concerned about his opinion on her, she did not know. Jasper Danvers was a stranger, who showed kindness to a fellow coach traveller. He thought Winifred to be a young man, on a first trip on his own. Uncertain, and a bit frightened. Jasper had taken his fellow traveller under his wing, and he had done it in such an easy manner that it did seem the very natural thing to do. But that was all Jasper had done, Winifred mused. Nothing more, nothing less.

They would travel together to Edinburgh, where they would go their separate ways, never to see one another again.

With a resigned sight, Winifred attempted to find a position in which she would be comfortable enough to fall asleep. The mattress, however, was all bumps and holes. The fact that her breasts were tightly bound under her shirt did not improve the situation much. God, it hurt! She would have untied her breasts if she were alone, but alas, she was sharing the room with two people. She had not dared even take off her cotton shirt, lest Jasper see the bandage under her thin, decidedly female chemise. Her disguise did not extend to male small clothes. Heavens, now her breasts began to itch a great deal, too!

Winifred gritted her teeth and valiantly ignored her discomfort, closed her eyes and sought sleep.

That was when a small, warm body crawled beside her in the bed.

“Freddie, I cannot sleep,” Fiona whispered in a shaky voice. “There is a snake under my bed, and there is a witch on the wall who will turn me into a frog.”

Fiona pressed herself firmly against Winifred. “Papa must not be bothered, Edith says.”

“Who is Edith?” Asked Winifred.

“The maid in the nursery at home…” The small voice was already fading as Fiona drifted into sleep.

“Why must Papa not be bothered, then?” Was what Winifred wanted to know.

“He works hard…”

“Is Papa too tired to fight snakes and witches?”

“No…Papa is never tired, but he cannot see the snake or the witch…She will catch me…”

The words were uttered with such conviction that Winifred did not find it in her heart to protest.

“You can sleep in my bed, then,” she said softly. “Witches do not dare to bother me. If they try to reach out at you, I shall throw them out of the window.”

Fiona giggled, then snuggled closer, her tiny body a source of warmth that felt heavenly to Winifred. Soon the two of them were fast asleep.

“Fiona!”

Winifred was jerked back into wakefulness by Jasper’s anguished cry. She instinctively reacted with a cry of her own. “Here! She is here, Jasper!” Too late, she realised that her voice had sounded high, and womanly. Seconds later, Jasper leapt behind the screen, eyes wide with terror.

Good Heavens! Winifred’s throat constricted when she found Jasper towering over her bed, bare-chested and panting with panic. He was magnificent and utterly breath-taking. Winifred was suddenly acutely aware of her racing pulse and pounding heart. His chest was beautifully defined, powerful and sculptured with just the right amount of muscles. A light sprinkle of dark hair spread over his flat, surprisingly small nipples and disappeared, down his flat stomach and narrow waist, beneath the rim of his loose pantaloons in an ever-thinning line. With her gaze pinned on those pantaloons, Winifred felt as if the air were sucked out of the room. A hot dampness formed between her thighs, where her womanly folds throbbed in sudden ache. She could not understand what had come over her. Never had she felt this way, and it seriously concerned her.

“Papa? Why are you shouting so, Papa?”

Fiona’s sweet, little voice installed some normalcy in Winifred and apparently, also in Jasper. His face lost its anguished expression, and his eyes softened as he opened his arms for his daughter, who jumped into them with a laugh.

“Oh, Papa, did you think I was gone? I could not sleep because there were monsters! Freddie rescued me, did you not, Freddie?”

“No, Fiona,” Winifred chuckled, “it was you who saved me from the monsters. I could not sleep a wink until you came over and chased them away.”

The child laughed with merriment, and then – already distracted by a knock on the door – jumped from Jasper’s arms and ran to open the chamber door. It was a maid with a breakfast tray, whose arrival made Jasper jump for his shirt. Lord! The sight of Freddie’s tousled, shoulder-long hair, a cap of chocolate-coloured, shining glory, framing her flushed, sleep-warmed face had just hit him like a blow in his gut. What a blithering fool he had been to allow her to share a room with him!

After breakfast, the coach continued its journey over the Great North Road, through Colsterworth, Grantham, Newark, Retford and Bawtry, to Doncaster. Here, they would stop for luncheon. Jasper, Fiona and Winifred were alone on this long, cold voyage, for the weather had turned inclement overnight. The landscape did not show hills or elevations, only the lush green fields.The further north they travelled, the colder it became. The day was crisp and dry, but the watery sun was incapable of melting the frost that dusted the meadows in the shadowy places. The travellers still had a long way to go before they would reach Edinburgh.

Jasper listened to Freddie while she read Fiona a story from her book of fairy tales. It had been one of the first items Jessie had bought, once she knew she was with child. Jasper gave it to his little girl on her third birthday, and he had read from it many nights, since then. Fiona loved the stories and knew them by heart. She even corrected him when he involuntarily made a mistake. Freddie, Jasper noticed, seemed to know the stories well enough not to make mistakes, a fact which Fiona seemed to appreciate greatly. Was Freddie accustomed to telling stories to children, then? Might she be a governess? One who had been forced to run away because of something that threatened her safety? Had Freddie been assaulted by someone in the household? Jasper’s imagination began to concoct a number of possibilities why a young, genteelly bred young woman might flee her comfortable London home.

He was suddenly extremely aware of his own, inappropriate behaviour at the inn. While he had known full well that a young innocent woman had been sleeping in the same room, Jasper had nevertheless omitted to wear a nightshirt. Well, he never wore one in the first place, but all the same, in this case, he should have made an exception. It had positively been amiss of him as Freddie’s chocked expression and flushed face told him.

Oh, bother it all! Was he now scrutinizing his behaviour towards a stranger that would be gone from his life in a few days? He had no obligations to Freddie Preston to speak of since he did not know a single thing about her. He would be glad not to know any details about her life, thank you! Freddie Preston was a stranger and should remain so!

Preston…Why did that name sound familiar to him, Jasper mused. He was sure he knew someone by that name, although he was fairly certain he did not have an acquaintance with a Preston in London. Was it someone from his student years in Cambridge, then? Lord, but he had since long forgotten all about Cambridge! First Jessie had been responsible for that, and now, there was Fiona to keep him firmly anchored in the present. La! That was it, Jasper admonished himself. He had to keep focussed on Fiona, she was the most prominent person in his life.

While Freddie’s voice went on reading – exceedingly skilful, too – Jasper reflected on the final destination of their journey, Craggagh Wood, and Trewarth Castle. And his grandfather, the Earl.

A fierce, relentless, old bully, who strove to suppress every single person in his entourage and mould them to his own, strict, unbendable rules. A man, incapable of love and compassion, hampered in showing mercy to anyone, because of the immense task he set himself at governing Trewarth Estate and making it prosper. Ruling by installing fear, instead of respect, the Earl of Trewarth had banished all humanity from his life.

Abruptly and cheerfully, Fiona’s voice rang. “Freddie reads very well, Papa! Will Great-grandfather read to me, too? That would be good, wouldn’t it?”

Freddie’s chocked gaze told Jasper the extent of what his own facial expression might show, at this moment. It must be abject horror. He quickly cleared his throat, to stem further indiscretions from Fiona. “No, princess, Great-grandfather is far too busy. He will not have time, but I will. I will always have time to read to you, sweetheart.”

Mercifully, Fiona was already distracted. “Will you come with us, Freddie? We are going to a real castle! It is where my Papa’s family live! Is this not exciting?”

“Fiona…” Jasper warned, but his three year old daughter could not yet grasp the meaning of the word discretion.

“I am sure there will be a dragon! Or a wizard! Wizards live in a castle, do they not, Freddie?”

Winifred, who had seen the horror on Jasper’s face upon hearing the revelations he would have preferred stayed unveiled, took pity on him. “Oh, no, Fiona, you are mistaken. Wizards and dragons live in a cave, deep under the face of the earth. They cannot abide sunlight. They must remain in the darkness, or else, they will burn to ashes.”

“Truly? How scary! I won’t go into a cave, ever! Are there any caves near the castle, Papa?”

“No, pumpkin,” Jasper lied. In fact, there were caves aplenty near Trewarth Castle, and even on the estate proper, but Jasper vowed never to show Fiona where they were.

“Doncaster!”

To Jasper’s infinite relief, the voice of their driver dispelled all thoughts of castles and cages, promising a much needed lunch and rest.