Incognita (Fairchild Book 2) Read Online Free PDF Page B

through heavy brush. You couldn’t take a step without picking up irritating burrs. “That’s not why I came.”
    “It would be a good thing for you to fix your attentions elsewhere,” Jasper said, pulling a pencil from behind his ear to circle the name of a horse.
    “I dare say.” Alistair glanced across the table at the paper. It wasn’t a horse. The listing was promoting a cockfight.
    “Well, who is she?” Jasper finally asked.
    “A chère-amie of Bagshot’s.”
    Jasper froze, his ale halfway to his mouth, frown lines gouging his forehead. Silently he set down his glass. “Can’t be,” he said. “Bagshot’s too much of a reforming bent for that. Methodist. You know the type.”
    “Wouldn’t be the first time a good Christian got his feet dirty,” Alistair said.  
    “I don’t believe it,” Jasper said. “What makes you think so?”
    “I saw him.” Alistair told him about the masquerade, and the proprietary way she had spoken of Tom.
    Jasper fidgeted with the paper. “Too late to do anything now, even if he was mixed up with her,” he said. “Sophy’s stuck with him, and he knows better than to carry on with prime articles now. New one for you to come out all prunes and prisms. Would you have told Sophy of your Spanish beauties?”  
    “That’s different. I haven’t gotten any children,” Alistair said. “And you know I haven’t done more than dance with another female since Sophy came to town.” Jasper’s gaze didn’t soften, so Alistair added, “I would have told her, when the time was right.” It was an uncomfortable, ridiculous notion, but it was only fair.
    “How do you know Bagshot didn’t? Dalliance doesn’t seem his style, but I suppose it’s possible,” Jasper said, his intense study failing to char the meat remaining on his plate. He shook his head. “No. Sophy wouldn’t fall for a dirty dish like that.”  
    “She’s very young,” Alistair said gently. “He can’t have told her—she’d have raised a hell of a dust.”  
    Jasper flicked him a skeptical glance.  
    “The boy in the park?” Alistair prompted, knowing this was the crux of the matter. Tom Bagshot probably had given up his mistress—he seemed to have forgotten her presence entirely the night of the masquerade. Mrs. Morris—if that was her name—was probably pensioned off, dismissed. But Sophy wouldn’t stand for Tom hiding a child from her. She knew the plight of illegitimate children too well.  
    Jasper understood at once, but he struggled with himself, not wanting to admit it. “Just because an incognita was marking Tom doesn’t mean he let himself get caught. You sure she’s in the game?”
    “I spoke to her. She’s a lightskirt. I’m sure of it.” He couldn’t say which of them had turned the conversation down shady paths, but she hadn’t pulled back. She’d matched him, step for step.  
    Jasper picked up his fork, turning it in his hand so the light from the window danced across the walls as his face darkened. A thought came to him, clearing his countenance. “Normally I’d believe you. You’re a good judge of these things. But this one can’t be. Lightskirts don’t parade their brats around the park. Whatever she is, I’d lay money she isn’t that.”
    Alistair clenched his teeth. “How much?” he demanded, unwilling to back down.
    “A pony,” Jasper said.
    Alistair snorted. “You can’t be that sure then.” Twenty five pounds was a paltry stake.
    “I don’t steal from my relatives.” Jasper gave him a steady look. “You’re taking Sophy’s rejection too hard. Not thinking straight. Have some breakfast.” He got up and went to the sideboard for a plate.  
    Alistair waved it away. “You named your stake. Let’s settle this thing. If it’s true, Sophy ought to know.”  
    Jasper thought for some moments, drumming his fingers on the side of his thigh. “All right then. Haven’t anything better to do.”  
    He waited, all easy complacence,