His cutting words stung, and she would not lie. But neither would she allow him to know it. Her pride forced her to pretend as if his second dismissal of the day was of no greater import than the first had been.
“If you do not require me, then I shall go to bed,” she said. “Forgive me for the interruption.”
But just as she was about to return to the haven of her chamber, her husband’s voice gave her pause.
“Stop.”
She turned back to him to find him listing on his feet as if he were aboard a ship. The man was either thoroughly drunk, exhausted, or both. She wondered how hard he had been hit to cause the darkening bruise beneath his eye. And then she told herself she should not care.
“What is it, Mr. Sutton?” she asked.
“I’ve changed my mind,” he said. “I need to be bathed. You’ll do.”
She would do, would she? The daring of the man. She longed to give him a piece of her mind. But not before the wide-eyed audience of his brothers and guard. Their marriage was private, the concern of Octavia and Jasper alone.
So she summoned a smile that was far less calm than the turmoil roiling within her. “Of course.”
“Water’s in the tub,” Hugh told her. “We ‘ad it brought round earlier, before the drops of jackey started pouring.”
Gin.
She had not been wrong, then.
Her husband and his siblings had suffered a devastating loss today from the sounds of it. And then he and his brothers had engaged in an altercation with the men they believed responsible for the crime. How…bloodthirsty.
She had never been presented with such raw, vivid evidence of retribution.
Summoning her strength, she moved forward, toward Jasper. “I will see to my husband as he wishes this evening, Hugh,” she informed the guard. “If you would please see to my brothers-in-law?”
“I’d rather you see to me when you’re finished with Jasper,” Rafe told her with a rascal’s grin. “Hugh’s a Leather Lane concern by comparison.”
“Insult my wife again, and I’ll draw your cork,” Jasper growled at his brother.
“Only a rig,” Rafe grumbled. “I’d never touch what’s yours.”
Before any more threats could be traded, Octavia slid an arm around her husband’s waist. “Come now, if you please. The hour is appallingly late, and if you must have your bath, the sooner it is done, the better.”
She spoke to him in the firm tones she reserved for children. Because he was acting rather a bit like one. And because it was far easier to pretend he no longer affected her if she imagined him no different than any other charge. This evening, he was a duty.
Nothing else.
Never again anything else, she reminded herself fiercely. Jasper Sutton was not worthy of her trust. Or her body.
He slid an arm around her waist in return, leaning on her as they made their way into his chamber. Within, a brace of candles was lit and a generous bath had indeed been placed by the hearth where a hearty fire crackled in the grate. The day had been damp, and though not cold, there was a chill in the air. Even Jasper’s coat was sodden, the wetness seeping through her dressing gown and making her shiver.
“You’re trembling,” Jasper said as she helped him to a nearby chair.
Somehow, even sotted, he remained observant. The knowledge nettled her.
“And you are soaked through,” she told him crisply, ignoring what may have been an edge of concern in his deep voice. “Have you spent the entire evening in the rain?”
“Some of it.” He sprawled in the chair, long, trouser-clad legs parted, looking every bit the dissolute scoundrel.
A lock of hair hung over his brow, and curse him, but he was despicably handsome, even with the purplish bruise forming under his eye. Sadly, his afternoon betrayal had done nothing to diminish his masculine attributes. Objectively, she still found him as gloriously masculine and sinfully delicious as ever.
Fortunately, she was made of sterner stuff than a mere weakness of the flesh. Her body may have already forgotten his traitorous actions, but her heart and her mind remained vividly aware of them.
“I suppose we should remove your coat first,” she said, taking stock of his large form.