Page 11 of Treating a Sinful Earl
This was not the case for Jasper. He had plenty of hair upon his chest, and it had been so from an early age. He had grown into manhood before most and was told that this was something that the ladies admired about him, but like with all other matters surrounding this, he did not pay it much attention.
“We are almost there,” Felton said, peering out the window. “The Duke of Brighton is an interesting fellow. Have you ever met his acquaintance?”
“I have not,” replied Jasper.
“He is very short. I fear that he shall be rather intimidated by you.”
“Nonsense.”
“It is true! You are like some sort of monster. I wish that I had your height and good looks.”
Jasper merely shook his head and rolled his eyes. Such matters made him rather bashful, and he considered that his appearance was of no consequence. It was his health that troubled him, and this could perhaps not be remedied.
As Felton had stated, the estate of the Duke of Brighton was soon upon them, and Jasper viewed all the various carriages dropping off guests. He surmised that it was perhaps the largest estate that he had ever been to in Bath, and Jasper found himself eager to meet the rather short, Duke of Brighton.
Upon alighting from the carriage, they passed through the entrance of the house that was lined with footmen in white wigs. Jasper thought it pompous that the Duke put his servants on display thus, but it was customary during the Season in Bath for those with a great deal of wealth to show it off with relish.
Entering the foyer, Jasper discovered more servants, and greeting his guests, stood the Duke of Brighton. Felton had been accurate in regard to his height, for there was a good chance that he was shorter than five feet.
“Your Grace, I believe that you have never met the Earl of Simmons,” Felton announced.
“No, Mr Andrews, I do not believe that I have.”
“Simmons, this is Brighton.”
Jasper put out his hand and noted that the Duke had a rather firm handshake for a man his size. He had serious black eyes, almost matching his black hair. The Duke gazed at him intently. “Why is it that you have never attended one of my balls before?” Brighton asked.
“It is not always my cup of tea, but my friend Mr Andrews seeks to change all of that.”
“That I do,” Felton replied with a smile.
Brighton nodded and then clasped his hands behind his back. “There is nothing to fear, Simmons. And I hope that we might become fast friends.”
Felton asked, “And where is the duchess?”
“She is greeting guests in the ballroom. If you gentlemen would care to enter, it is right this way,” Brighton said affably, motioning towards the ballroom that was already filled with guests.
“We shall make our way promptly,” Jasper said, feeling that customary sweat come to his brow at the mere mention of it.
As Jasper and Felton entered the ballroom, they both looked all around, no doubt each searching for the objects of their affection. Sadly, Jasper did not spot Catherine and feared that she might not attend.
“I have never seen this many guests,” Felton proclaimed, bringing a hand to his waistcoat and then swiftly removing it. For Jasper, he assumed that Felton was going for his flask and banished the notion at the last minute.
Jasper did not know if his mind was playing tricks on him, but it seemed as though many eyes turned upon him. What was everything staring at? Was there something amiss with his apparel? He leaned into Felton and whispered, “We are garnering much attention.”
“They are looking at you and not at me,” Felton assured him.
“Why should that be?”
“Because you are the handsomest devil in the room and rarely attend functions. This is how it would always be if you attended more balls, which you will. You will become accustomed to it.”
As they continued to walk around the ballroom, every time that Jasper passed a lady, her fan came out and she beat it in front of her face. This was a gesture that Jasper could never understand. What did it signify? Surely, it was not because of the heat. But then again, Jasper was aware that females used their fans as a sort of signal in many situations. He had been told of this but never bothered to learn that secret language.
This reminded him that Catherine had never had a fan. She presented herself plainly…and beautifully. It was as though when he was in her presence, she had had nothing to hide. Jasper found this remarkably appealing.
Just then, right across the way, he spotted Catherine! Jasper could not take his eyes off of her in her blue gown with a yellow sash around her trim waist. The gown was low-cut, revealing décolletage that he found quite irresistible.
“My god,” Felton said, turning his head away. “It is Abigail. I suddenly find that my knees are shaking.”
