Treating a Sinful Earl by Henrietta Harding
Chapter 1
Lord Jasper Spranklin, Earl of Simmons, gazed around the populated ballroom, wiping a bit of sweat from his brow. It was stifling but this heat did not temper his enjoyment in the slightest.
There were plenty of lovely ladies all around, wearing their shiny gossamer frocks, many with feathers in their hair, as was the fashion of the day. Although Jasper would usually be more discerning when it came to dancing with ladies, he was now holding back no longer.
“Good evening,” he said to one lady in particular, bowing his head.
She fluttered her eyelashes, and a flush came to her cheeks. “Good evening, my lord,” she said with a curtsy.
“Most certainly. Such a marvellous event!”
“That it is, indeed.”
She stood there in stunned silence for a moment, perhaps waiting for Jasper to carry on the conversation. He was used to women being struck dumb in his presence, for he was told that he was a handsome fellow. But what Jasper did not like was ladies who were so bashful in his presence. Jasper preferred a woman who could speak, and what’s more, a woman who could hold an intelligent conversation.
That being said, the lady standing before him who was struck dumb was still quite pretty.
“Should I check my dance card?” the lady finally asked, no doubt implying that she and Jasper should dance.
“That would be most kind of you, but I am afraid that I do not know your name. I am the Earl of Simmons,” Jasper went on.
“Yes, I know who you are, my lord. I am Miss Kitty Spencer. We have never had a chance to formally meet.”
The casual conversation continued, and Jasper concluded that it would be enjoyable to dance with Miss Kitty Spencer, but he did not feel that strong pull towards her that he sought. Yes, she was a bit dull, and she continuously fluttered her fan in front of her face trying to amplify her appeal.
The dance being scheduled, Miss Kitty excused herself lest she tarry for too long, and just as she departed, Jasper felt as though the room was spinning and sweat trickled from his brow more forcefully. He feared that he might faint. Jasper quickly found a seat where he could steady himself, and once there, he loosened his cravat and reasoned that his valet had tied it too tight.
Of course, he would be deluding himself if he believed that last thought. The cravat did not explain the heat or suddenly feeling faint. He knew the source of these things, but it was difficult to admit to himself. Just then, Jasper spotted his very best friend, Felton Andrews, just across the way. Felton was flirting with two ladies, and this brought a smile to Jasper’s lips, helping him to forget, for a moment, about the fainting spell.
Felton and Jasper had known each other since they were young boys, and his friend was always a source of fun and mischief. They liked to get into a bit of trouble when they were together, and during the Season, a little trouble was not difficult to find.
Jasper heaved a sigh of relief. Yes, the faint feeling had passed, and he was himself again! He stood to his full height, which was considerably tall, for Jasper surmised that he stood above the rest in the ballroom. He caught his reflection in a mirror and inspected himself.
No, he was not the kind of man that paid too much mind to his appearance, although his bearing was overall neat and refined. He did not care for the foppish ways of some of the other men at that event.
His blond hair was a bit wayward, but his blue eyes sparkled. He was often told that his eyes were the most captivating aspect of his appearance, and these he had inherited from his beloved mother. Thinking of the Dowager Countess, Jasper felt his heart constrict in his chest. She was the only one that knew. She was the only one that knew the truth about Jasper’s diagnosis….
Banishing these thoughts, Jasper thought it best to seize the day and dance with as many ladies as he could, enjoying life to the fullest. That was the only way to proceed. For when faced with challenges, his perspective was always strong. Life was something to be lived to the fullest and Jasper would have it no other way. He would not get weighed down in melancholy. He would enjoy every last moment.
Just then, he watched as Felton approached, carrying a flute of champagne. “What are you doing by yourself when there is much flirting to undertake?” Felton asked.
Jasper could not help but laugh. “There is indeed much flirting, and I was taking a break because it can be exhausting!”
“Do not lie, my friend. You find flirting exhilarating. There is no need to pretend that I am not the one that knows you best in this world.”
Jasper’s heart constricted in his chest once more. Yes, Felton knew him best, so why could he not tell his friend that very important bit of information that constantly lurked in the back of his mind? Jasper reasoned that it would be too difficult. Yet still, he would tell his friend when the moment was ripe.
Just then, something caught Felton’s eye, and he said, “Have you met that lady over there?”
Jasper looked in the direction that Felton motioned towards. He knit his brow, not recognizing the lady but finding her to be beautiful. “Who is she?”
“That is Lady Abigail Hatcher. I am surprised that you do not know of her. She attends these balls often. In fact, no one enjoys a party more than Abigail Hatcher.”
“Then it is quite surprising that I have never made her acquaintance. Should we approach?” Jasper asked.
"When the moment is ripe. For now, we drink!” Felton said, lifting his empty flute. “Come, the refreshments are this way.”
Jasper followed his friend, but truth be told, he was not one for too much drink. He preferred to keep his wits about him at all times, and there was no sense in needing champagne to feel enjoyment. Jasper enjoyed life as it was, and heavens, how he wished to enjoy as much of it as possible.
Still, he took a flute and clinked it against Felton’s glass. “Why did you point out this Abigail Hatcher?” Jasper asked, sensing something significant.
His brow raised. “I fancy her. Unfortunately, I fear that she might be out of my league.”
“Every lady here is out of your league, old chap. Let us face the truth.”
Both men smiled. In truth, Jasper loved teasing Felton at every possible juncture. They had shared the same humour since they were young boys, and sometimes he sensed that Felton was the only one who understood his biting wit.
“Go and speak with her,” Jasper advised.
Felton shook his head. “This is why I am trying to drink as much champagne as possible. I need the courage.”
“I have never known you to be one that is lacking in courage when it comes to the ladies.”
“With Abigail Hatcher, everything is different.”
"What is it about her that you find so appealing?” Jasper asked, taking a sip of his own champagne.
“Everything. The way that she goes from party to party in her elegant gowns, the manner in which she dances, and how she entirely ignores me.”
Jasper placed a humorous hand upon Felton’s shoulder. “Old chap, there is something that must be made clear here and now. You should probably not go after women that do not give you the time of day. You might want to choose those that pay attention to you, instead.”
“But it is so appealing!” Felton exclaimed. “When a lady pretends as though you do not exist, it brings up every predatory instinct that a man has within his breast. It is a challenge, and I love a good challenge!”
Jasper removed his hand and shook his head mournfully. “I fear that you are in for a bumpy path to love.”
“You do not find it appealing when you are ignored?”
Jasper had to consider this question. Yes, he understood how when a woman was particularly hard to steal the attention of, it did incite something in a man. Like Felton, Jasper liked a good challenge, but considering the other challenges that he faced, he would be content to find a woman with a pretty face, a sparkling mind and wit, and also, someone who genuinely liked him. There was no time for anything else.
Just then, Felton’s attention was stolen once more, and Jasper looked off into the distance. There was Abigail Hatcher again, but this time, she was joined by two other ladies, and there was one in particular that Jasper could not take his eyes off of.
“Who is that?” he had to ask.
“Which one? Abigail is the brunette, then there is the blonde and the redhead.”
“The redhead,” Jasper said definitively.
An amused smile appeared on Felton’s lips. “I see. She would certainly be to your liking.”
“What do you mean?” Jasper asked in confusion.
“You like the exotic ones, do you not? Yes, Lady Catherine Trowbridge would definitely be to your liking, with the shining red hair and green eyes. Most exotic indeed.” Felton winked.
Jasper did not wish to be caught staring, yet still, he could not take his eyes off of Catherine. How was it that he never met her before, or Abigail for that matter? Had Jasper been living under a rock, and if so, could he now set himself free?
“And who is the blonde?”
“That would be Selina Lockhart, Catherine’s closest friend. You would do well to be viewed as favourable in her estimation. Believe me, Selina and Catherine are nearly as close as you and I.”
“Is that even possible?” Jasper quipped.
The two friends shared a good laugh, but Jasper’s attention returned to Catherine yet again. Even from afar, there was something relaxed and natural about her, despite the exotic beauty. She wore a simple white gown, and her figure was lean, athletic, and most impressive. That being said, she was diminutive in height, and Jasper feared that his own height might provide some intimidation.
But what was he thinking? He had not even met the lady yet! There was still a chance that she had a squeaky voice or not a thought in her head.
“How is it that you are so well-informed about these ladies?”
“Unlike you,” Felton went on, “I learn as much about those around me as possible. You, however, merely carry on as though you are the only man in the world.”
Jasper was confused by this. “That is untrue. I merely keep to my own affairs. At least…of late that is the case.”
“And thus, all the ladies love you,” Felton replied, rolling his eyes. “It goes both ways, you realize. When a woman is distant, a man’s attention is piqued. And when a man is distant, all the ladies seem to swoon.”
This was all news to Jasper. Felton had never referred to him as distant before. Could it be that the recent news about his health had caused this? No, this was always Jasper’s manner. He kept to himself, gave his attention to those that he found interesting, and did not seek out anyone for selfish reasons. He was a self-contained sort of fellow. This kept things simple for him.
And Jasper needed things to be simple right now.
“Come, I am ready to speak with them,” Felton said, putting down his empty champagne flute.
“Now I am the one that is nervous,” Jasper replied, feeling that customary sweat come to his brow.
“Nonsense. You are the most dashing man in the room, and Catherine Trowbridge must have noticed that by now.”