Page 38 of The Widow's Scandalous Gentleman
“I thought a walk might suit,” Edmund said after some distance had passed. “The indoors have felt increasingly… tense today.”
Jasper’s smile was brief. “There’s something about polished furniture and tightly drawn curtains that invites performance.”
“And verdict,” Edmund replied. “Not always wisely given.”
They walked in silence for a while, boots crunching softly over the gravel. The faint sounds of the household behind them—doors closing gently, the distant clink of china—seemed to fade into the soft rustle of leaves overhead.
Then, after a moment, Edmund spoke again.
“My lord, I think you understand that, while I am sympathetic to the retreat’s philosophy and its evident sincerity, I must also consider its position within broader frameworks. Social, legal… familial.”
“I suppose that is a magistrate’s duty,” Jasper said.
“It is also a friendly concern,” Edmund replied. “The Vexwood name has long stood apart from disorder. Your continued entanglement with this establishment—especially under such scrutiny—may be viewed, at best, as a lapse in discretion. At worst... as an alignment.”
“I have not aligned myself with scandal,” Jasper said quietly. “Only with what is just.”
Edmund studied him sidelong. “Be that as it may, I must ask: have you considered other means of support? Means that would not necessarily involve marriage?”
Jasper halted. “You suggest I dissolve the arrangement? You were the one to recommend it.”
“I suggest,” Edmund said gently, “that you may need to consider less perilous alternatives. “The Retreat itself is of value. The land, the structure, even its reputation, though damaged, might be salvaged. If your brother were to purchase it formally—under your advisement—it could be restored, perhaps even maintained. Lady Greaves might remain in a formal capacity, as manager or steward. Without... entanglement.”
“You propose transforming her sanctuary into a business concern, administered at the Duke’s discretion,” Jasper said flatly. “A tidy compromise.”
Edmund inclined his head. “A legal one. And one that might allow you to withdraw your name from entanglement while still honouring your intentions.”
Jasper’s eyes narrowed. “That is—if she survives the blow.”
“Yes,” Edmund replied after a pause. “But that is not your battle, Lord Jasper.”
There it was. The truth. Delivered without malice, but unmistakably.
Jasper looked away, toward the rows of ripening fruit trees, leaves catching the evening’s gold. “I do not claim it as mine.”
“But you would risk the family’s standing to fight beside her.”
“Yes.”
A longer silence passed between them.
At last, Edmund said, “May I ask why?”
Jasper turned slowly to face him, and something in his voice dropped—still formal, still measured, but with a rough edge of truth.
“Because I love her.”
It was not a dramatic declaration. It was not even a confession. It was a truth that had already lived too long behind silence.
“I love Lady Greaves,” he repeated. “Not for convenience. Not because of what she represents. But for what she is. For her strength, her wit. The quiet bravery with which she holds this place together when the world seems intent on tearing it apart.”
He hesitated. “I came here to inspect real estate on my brother’s behalf. I remained because she believed in something I had forgotten I needed to see.”
Edmund studied him for a long moment.
“And you believe she returns the sentiment?”
Jasper drew a breath. “I cannot claim certainty. But I hope she does.”
