Treating a Sinful Earl by Henrietta Harding
Chapter 12
“I must see Abigail at once,” remarked Felton as he pulled his hand through his hair. “Or else I shall die.”
“My friend, what has gotten into you?” Jasper asked. “You saw her last night. Surely, you will not die,” he added humorously.
“You do not understand,” Felton said as he paced about Jasper’s parlour. “The situation has grown dire. Oh, the way that she looked at me! That twinkle in her eye. I cannot be without her.”
Jasper seated himself upon a sofa and laughed to himself. What Felton was describing was exactly how he felt, but he could scarce admit it. “Steady yourself, old man. I thought that you had a game to play. It seems like you have a losing hand if you cannot even maintain a poker face.”
“I cannot play the game anymore!” Felton proclaimed. “There is no sense in it. She is the only one that I desire, and I will make this known to her. Even if my heart gets ripped out of my chest, it matters not. If I do not try to obtain this one thing in life that I love, then I shall perish.”
Jasper knew all of this to be very dramatic, and he had never seen Felton in such a state. But considering his own feelings for Catherine, he understood how a woman could seemingly undo a man just by looking at him in a certain way. He could make fun of his friend, but to do so would be unkind. Instead, he tried to provide sound counsel.
“And if we went to her this afternoon, what would you say?”
“I would express my undying love.”
Jasper put up a hand. “Steady yourself once more. I barely know the lady, and I do not wish to see you hurt, my friend.”
Felton slumped into a chair. “Do you think that she will break my heart? I suppose that if I come to her as a bleeding heart, she will have every opportunity to pull it out of my chest. If this happens, I cannot blame her. I want her to have my heart, no matter the manner of removing it.”
Jasper chose his words carefully. “Let us not talk of getting hearts pulled out of chests. If she is right for you, she will never try to hurt you. That is the true nature of love and you do yourself a service by reminding yourself of it.”
Felton seemed to consider these words, for he scratched his chin and seemed to settle a bit. “You do make a point. If she is to be mine, she will accept my love. Oh, I was intent upon playing these games early on, but I have decided that I do not wish to play games any longer. I want a love that is true and timeless.”
“Then be patient.”
“But I cannot be patient! Surely, you cannot see that I am at my wit’s end. I did not sleep last night, nor do I think I shall sleep tonight unless I tell Abigail the truth.”
Jasper rose from his seat. There was no sense in arguing with Felton while he was in this state. He wanted to support his friend as best he could, so he offered, “We shall go, then. I want you to sleep tonight.”
Felton heaved a sigh. “Truly? You will go with me? I have not even sent her correspondence, so surely our arrival will come as a shock.”
“Then so be it.” He clapped his hands together. “Love is shocking in and of itself. We shall go.”
There were ulterior motives within this plan. Jasper desperately hoped that he would view Catherine while they were there. He had spent most of the morning trying to calm Felton down, and so he had not the chance to compose a letter to Catherine inviting her to another supper. If she was there, he could make the offer in person, which was what he preferred to do.
They made their way to Jasper’s carriage, and once inside, Felton looked out the window moodily. Jasper could not help but say, “Ecstatic one moment and moody the next. I suppose that you really are in love.”
“It is torture,” Felton muttered.
“Nonsense. If the object of your affection becomes yours, you shall be ecstatic once more.”
“But only for a moment,” Felton mused. “It will be a moment of happiness if she accepts my love. After that, we can spend a lifetime together of little disappointments that cause me to lose my senses. Do you not understand, old chap?” he asked. “Love is a constant storm of tempestuous feelings, and it is unending.”
Jasper inhaled deeply. Felton was making love sound as though it were the most exhausting enterprise on earth. There was something different about his love for Catherine. It was not imbued with such fear and pain. What he felt for her was as calm and smooth as a gentle river. Did this mean that he was not in love? Was it a different kind of love? Jasper was intent upon discovering this and so much more.
It did not take long for them to reach Abigail’s home, which was near to the centre of town. It was a delightful townhome done in white stone, and as Felton looked up at it through the carriage window, he wiped away a tear. “I am not going to survive this.”
Jasper stifled his laughter. “You shall survive it. I promise you.”
Felton turned to him in anguish. “There is no weapon that can protect the human heart. Had I brought my pistol, it would have done no good.”
“You are speaking of the situation as though it were already a failure. I know that Abigail is fond of you,” Jasper offered.
“Not as fond of me as I am of her.”
Although they had arrived, Jasper took a moment to let that sink in. Trying to calm Felton down once more, he said, “It is common knowledge that the man must love the woman to a greater degree. It does not work any other way.”
Felton cocked his head in confusion. “What do you mean?”
“Between a man and wife,” Jasper explained, “it is important that the man be more amorous than the woman.”
“This is utterly perplexing, explain.”
Jasper leaned back in his seat, trying to glean the proper words. “When you shower a woman with love, when you treat her as though she is the gem of the world and a goddess in your estimation, she will be everything that you hope for in life.”
Felton asked, “And how do you know this?”
There was truly no time to explain but Jasper did so anyhow. “It is what my mother imparted to me as a young man. My father loved her dearly, perhaps more than he had ever loved anything in his life. When my mother first met him, she had trepidation about the match. Of course, my father had a remarkable title, but my mother wanted to be free. She was the kind of lady who wished to marry an artist. My father was nothing of the sort.” He continued to explain, “Finally, my father convinced my mother to marry him, and she said that after she agreed, her love for him grew every day.”
Felton seemed in awe of this story. It all made sense to Jasper when his mother had expressed it. And he, too, wished to find a woman that he loved beyond compare, if only so that he could shower her with love for the rest of her days.
Felton finally replied, “I have enjoyed your mother’s story, and I hope that much the same will play out for myself. Even though…I have no fancy title, and my reputation is not sound.”
Jasper raised his brow. “Yes, that does create complication.”
The two men finally exited the carriage, and Jasper was delighted that they were paying a call, for there was a very good chance that Catherine was within that edifice this very moment. He followed behind Felton, considering that the mission at hand was of his friend’s choosing. Once the door was knocked upon, it was pulled open by a footman, and Felton asked, “Is Lady Hatcher within?”
The footman nodded. “She is receiving guests at the moment. Did you send your card?”
Felton scratched his head. “I fear that I did not. The matter requires some haste and there was no time to dispatch it.”
“May I ask whom I am speaking with?”
“Mr Felton Andrews.”
“I shall return promptly,” the footman replied, closing the door, and leaving Felton and Jasper standing on the front step.
“What if she refuses to see me?” Felton asked.
“Nonsense. If she is accepting visitors, she shall see you.”
Felton expression became horrified. “What if there is another man in there paying a call? Oh, I wish that I had brought my pistol!”
“Steady now,” Jasper imparted.
Within moments, the footman reappeared and stated that Abigail was willing to see Felton, and they were escorted into the Hatcher parlour, which was simple and refined. Abigail was seated upon a chaise, and when Felton and Jasper entered, she got up and extended her hand.
“I did not expect you, Felton.”
“I was desperate,” he replied, taking her hand and kissing it.
Abigail seemed perplexed. “Whyever were you desperate?”
His reply was soft and gentle. “Please understand, I had to see you. I know that we spent time together last evening, but it was not enough for me.”
Just then, right as Jasper’s heart was breaking that Catherine was not present, she came bursting through the door with Selina by her side. The two ladies were giggling, out of breath, and their hair was askew. Jasper constricted his brow in curiosity. Where had they come from?
Catherine’s eyes immediately met his, and she blinked several times before saying, “Jasper? What are you doing here?”
“I have accompanied Felton,” he said. “He wished to pay Abigail a call.”
“How very amusing!” said Selina, taking a step back.
As was always the case, it seemed that everyone in the room disappeared in that moment, and it was only Catherine and Jasper who stood there. There were so many questions he wished to ask, but all at once, he had that same crazed feeling that Felton had had back in his parlour! Jasper caught himself feeling desperate to tell her that he had missed her and was overjoyed to see her again.
Instead of imparting all of this and making a fool of himself, Jasper calmly stated, “I think it best if we give Abigail and Felton a bit of privacy.” He glanced towards the bemused chaperone.
“Yes, I think that is best, as well,” Catherine advised, leaving the room with Selina following behind her. Once they were in the foyer, she said to Jasper, “Is Felton all right? He seemed as though he had lost his wits.”
“You noticed? Yes, he has been a mess all morning. He said that the only way to remedy it was to see Abigail at once.”
To the side, Selina giggled. But Catherine gave her a mock-stern expression conveying that perhaps they should not make light of the situation.
“I feel as though I know what this pertains to,” Catherine finally said, then sighed. “I hope that Abigail is kind to him.”
Jasper could not help but ask, “Does she share his feelings?”
Without using words, Catherine grinned and nodded her head. An overwhelming rush of relief took hold as he realized that perhaps his friend was not going to have his heart ripped out of his chest.
“Would you care to take a stroll down the boulevard?” Jasper asked. “It is a beautiful day.”
Catherine became downcast. “I fear that my chaperone has taken ill today and were you to walk with Selina and I, it might create a scandal.”
His heart sank. “I understand,” he replied warmly, belying his disappointment.