wife, and you want me to go away and return when it better suits you?” He sneered and shook his head. “Shall we toast her many fine features together, too?”
No, probably not! Jasper thought.
“I think there has been some misunderstanding,” he began.
“Lady Neville is enceinte!” the man declared.
Chapter Twenty-Two
“Missing on the social landscape lately were Lady W__ and her sister, Miss S__. Other have been busy. Lady N__ is reputed to be with child. Lord N__ has moved out of their Piccadilly home, causing great speculation.”
-The Morning Post
There was no misunderstanding that!
“Congratulations?” Jasper managed, with a question in his tone. Why the devil was the man involving him?
“Why, you satyr!” And with that, Neville launched himself at Jasper, tackling him to his prized Italian tile floor in one go.
“Oof.” That bloody well hurt.
At once, Neville began an assault. Jasper might be less meaty than this brute, but he knew his way around a good fight. As Neville first tried to sock him in the jaw and then strangle him, Jasper twisted and turned before managing to get his knee into his attacker’s stomach to create a little distance between them.
When the man arched in pain, Jasper had room to get his other leg between them and shove him off. And then, once standing again, they fell to blows in earnest.
“This is poppycock!” Jasper declared, realizing the last punch to his eye was going to darken his daylight, which he disrelished greatly. Blumsey would have to apply some magical potion to disguise it.
Nevertheless, there was simply no possibility Lady Neville’s babe was his. He was careful with the women he bedded, always using a protective sheath or pulling out and spending on the sheets, usually both.
“There. Has. Been. A. Mistake,” he added between dodging facers and throwing wisty castors in return. A ham-fist connected with his ribs, and Jasper was sure he’d heard one crack. In retaliation, he ducked low and came up swinging with a muzzler, catching Neville in the chin and sending him reeling.
Suddenly, from the hallway, Julia appeared. Neville was surprised enough to pause in his assault and take a step back. Jasper nearly clocked him a stinger to the head but decided that would be poor sportsmanship and lowered his hands.
Without hesitation, she strode to the center of the foyer and halted between the men, her back to Jasper.
“This must cease at once. You’re behaving like children with big sticks.”
Oh, he had a big stick all right, Jasper thought smugly. But he hadn’t used it to get Lady Neville pregnant. In fact, if he recalled rightly, he hadn’t even penetrated her. She’d said they must do other things only. For all he knew, she had been having an affair with another man. But why blame the babe on him?
“My wife knew I would leave her,” Neville vowed, “if she was ever unfaithful.”
And there it was, Jasper had his reason. Perhaps she’d fallen in love with someone else, a man who would stay in the shadows. She could get rid of her husband on her own terms, put the blame on Jasper, and end up with her lover who would seem innocent as snow.
At Jasper’s silence, Neville seemed to get wound up again, perhaps imagining a scene of passion. He took a step toward Julia, who unflinchingly stood her ground.
“Look, miss, I don’t know who you are,” Neville declared, “another one of this lech’s doxies or someone’s misguided trollop of a wife, but you’d best stand aside because I aim to take Marshfield’s head off.”
Jasper didn’t like the sound of that. Neither did Julia. She stomped a slippered foot before fisting her hands on her hips.
“I assure you, you’re making an error,” she told him. “Your wife may have pulled the name of the most convenient rake out of her hatbox, but the Earl of Marshfield could not have caused your wife’s condition.”
“Why the hell not?” Neville demanded.
“Don’t swear in front of her,” Jasper ordered the man. Then he realized what she’d said.
“Yes,” he chimed in. “Why not?”
“The earl is utterly impotent,” Julia declared.
“What?” Jasper realized Neville had said the word at the same time.
“Naturally, he doesn’t want anyone to know he has a lobcock, if I have the correct term. Thus, he cultivates the reputation of a reprobate wastrel.”
“That’s harsh,” Jasper began, but she interrupted him, still addressing Neville.
“In truth, Lord Marshfield’s private life is quite the opposite. Would I, a fine, upstanding woman be here in his home if I weren’t perfectly safe around him?”
Neville frowned,