Of course, all that wonderfulness didn’t quite explain why he was riding away from his town house this morning, having once again eaten breakfast without his wife. This came perilously close to cowardice. But while his body was enthralled by her sensuality, his intellect coldly wondered where she’d gained her knowledge. She must’ve had at least one lover—possibly more—and he wasn’t sure he wanted to examine that thought too closely. The image of another man teaching her. Showing her how to take a cock into her sweet, warm mouth . . .
He growled. A passing chimney sweep shot him a startled glance and shied away.
Jasper pushed the thought from his mind. He hunched his shoulders and drew up his collar against the misty drizzle. The good weather had finally broken, and London was a gray, gloomy world this morning. His mind drifted back to last night. He remembered his wife reflected in the black window as she drew her chemise from her tall, slender body. She’d looked pale and otherworldly, her light brown hair swirling about her hips.
She probably thought him a coward or, worse, an imbecile. He’d left her after they’d made love, without so much as a good night, and spent the night on his pallet. He was an ass. But those eyes, watching him as she kissed his chest, watching him as she asked about Spinner’s Falls. God. She’d had no idea what she’d married. Perhaps it was best that he’d left so ungraciously. Better not to give her hope of something more when he didn’t have it in him to be anything more.
And now he didn’t even make sense in his own mind. He looked up to see Matthew Horn’s town house, glad that he could escape these maudlin musings.
Jasper dismounted Belle and handed the reins to a boy, then leapt up the front steps. A minute later, he was prowling Horn’s library, waiting for him to come down from wherever he was.
He’d just bent to peer at a large and dusty volume when Horn’s voice came from the door. “Looking for some light reading?”
“Just wondering why anyone would want a history of copper mining.” Jasper straightened and grinned.
Horn made a wry face. “My pater’s. Not that it did him any good. The mine he picked to invest in failed.” He strolled into the room and flung himself into a large chair, looping his leg over the arm. “The Horns are not exactly known for their financial sense.”
Jasper grimaced sympathetically. “Bad luck, that.”
Horn shrugged. “Want some tea? Seems early for whiskey.”
“No. Thank you.” Jasper wandered to a framed map of the world and tried to make out where Italy was.
“Come about Spinner’s Falls again, have you?” Horn asked.
“Mmm-hmm,” Jasper agreed without turning. Was it possible Italy wasn’t on the map at all? “Have you heard about what happened to Hasselthorpe?”
“Shot in Hyde Park. They’re calling it an assassination attempt.”
“Yes. And right after Hasselthorpe agreed to think about helping me.”
There was a brief silence, broken by Horn’s incredulous laugh. “You can’t think the two are related?”
Jasper shrugged. He wasn’t sure, of course, but the whole thing was a very strange coincidence.
“I still think you ought let Spinner’s Falls go,” Horn said quietly.
Jasper didn’t reply. If he was capable of letting this go, he would.
Horn sighed. “Well, I’ve been thinking about it.”
Jasper turned and glanced at Horn. “Have you?”
Horn waved a vague hand. “Here and there. What I don’t understand is why someone would betray the regiment. What would be the point? Especially if it was one of us who was captured. Seems like a good way to get yourself killed.”
Jasper blew out a breath. “Don’t think he meant to be captured—the traitor, that is. Probably thought to lie low and avoid the fighting.”
“Every one of us that was captured fought and fought well.”
“Aye, you’re right.” Jasper turned back to the map.
“Then what possible reason to betray the regiment and get us all killed? I think you’ve got hold of the wrong end of the stick, old man. There wasn’t any traitor. Spinner’s Falls was just bad luck, plain and simple.”
“Perhaps.” Jasper leaned so close to the map that his nose nearly touched the parchment. “But I can think of one very good reason someone might betray us.”
“What?”
“Money.” Jasper gave up on the map entirely. “The French had made it known that they’d pay good money for information.”