"It's so nice to find you finally pursuing a gainful occupation," replied Geoff. "But I suggest you find someone else to go bother."

"Oh, you can mock," replied Jasper. He flexed his hands as he stalked, one booted foot, then the other, up onto the wagon seat. He loomed over the box, the very image of menace. "Mock all you like. You won't be mocking—urgh!"

All his energies focused on his cousin, Jasper never saw the small form creeping purposefully along the box behind him. He didn't feel the two hands press against his back until it was too late.

Arms flailing, Jasper tumbled over the edge of the seat. With a crash that rocked the entire vehicle and sent little bits of straw spurting into the air, he landed facedown in the wagon bed.

Geoff jumped nimbly back as Jasper went sprawling at his feet.

A faint groan emerged from the straw.

"And that," said Letty distinctly, brushing off her hands, "is quite enough from you."

Geoff's eyes, alight with admiration, met Letty's over Jasper's fallen form.

"Nicely done," he said.

"Thank you." Letty regarded her handiwork with some satisfaction. "I thought so."

Jasper's bloodied face rose from the straw to glower malevolently at Letty. "My nose is broken, you—"

Geoff's foot descended heavily on Jasper's back, turning whatever the last word might have been into a loud whoosh of air. "Choose your words carefully. That's my wife you happen to be addressing."

"You should be thanking me," Jasper said thickly, spitting out blood and straw. "I was going to do you a favor. I was going to rid you of that—oof."

"Don't do me any more favors," said Geoff dryly. "Particularly not like that one."

"Hear, hear," seconded Letty, rubbing her sore throat.

At the sight of the purpling bruises on Letty's cheek and neck, an unreadable expression flickered across Geoff's face. With an almost casual air, he shifted more weight onto Jasper's back.

"It appears that you and I need to have a little chat, to prevent a recurrence of today's events. Let's just get this over with now, shall we?"

Jasper groaned.

"Good. I'm glad you agree."

Removing his foot, Geoff paced in a deliberative circle around Jasper's fallen form. Jasper's head shot up like a turtle out of its shell. He licked his bloodied lips, warily watching his cousin.

"Let me be plain," Geoff said conversationally, folding his arms and looking down his nose at his cousin. "There are a number of unpleasant things I could do to you. I could bring you up on charges of attempted murder. I could personally dismember you with Letty's embroidery scissors—yes, I believe you have encountered them already—snip by painful snip. Or"—Geoff paused, allowing that attractive image to have time to impress itself upon Jasper's imagination—"I could tell your mother."

Genuine terror flashed across Jasper's bloodied face.

"You wouldn't," he blustered.

"I will," Geoff replied implacably. "Unless—but no."

Jasper propped himself up on an elbow, watching his cousin narrowly. "No, what? What?"

"I personally vote for the embroidery scissors," put in Letty. She dangled them from one finger, just within Jasper's line of vision. "But only if I get the first snip."

"We might," Geoff suggested mildly, "be able to forgo the embroidery scissors—and your mother—if you were to go far away. Very far away."

"How far away?" asked Letty warily. No matter what Jasper might promise now, she didn't trust him not to reappear with a wagon at the ready and a gun in hand whenever he thought he might be able to get away with it. And there was no guaranteeing that she would have her embroidery scissors in hand.

Geoff smiled at her over Jasper's recumbent form. "I hear India is lovely this time of year."

"You mean it's a malarial pit," objected Jasper, surging up out of the hay. "I won't do it."

"Won't?" Geoff didn't so much as touch Jasper, but the lash of his voice alone was enough to drive Jasper back several paces. In a voice all the more terrifying for its very calm, he went on pleasantly, "Let us be very clear on this point, cousin. If you had succeeded in harming my wife, you would be dead. Slowly. Painfully. Dead. Do you understand?"

"India. Yes. Right. Smashing place. All those…curries."

"Splendid." Geoff clapped Jasper on the back with cousinly bonhomie. "I was sure you would see reason."

Reason wasn't all that Geoff had on his side. He also had Jasper's arm twisted behind his back. Given that Geoff was the slighter cousin by at least a stone, it was an impressive performance. Jasper, however, was so entirely demoralized by the stinging rain of Geoff's words that he didn't even think to put up any resistance.

"Everything will be arranged for you. I'm sure your commanding officer will be more than delighted to facilitate your transfer to another regiment. Don't worry," Geoff added kindly. "We'll make quite sure whichever one it is has uniforms that meet your sartorial expectations. You needn't fear for your appearance."

Jasper nodded numbly.

"I do believe you will be needing a new valet though," Geoff went on, in the same implacably pleasant voice. "Someone will be arriving at your lodgings tonight to assume that role. He will accompany you to India—and he will make sure you stay in India. One false move, and the sideburns go."

Jasper swallowed hard.

Geoff turned to Letty. "A valet has a million small ways of enacting retribution. A nick under the chin while shaving, an overstarched collar, a seam sewn where it will rub continuously against the skin until the wearer runs mad from it. They are masters of the lesser forms of torture. I'm sure our Jasper won't do anything to displease his valet, will you, cousin?"

"No," Jasper croaked.

"Good." Geoff made no move to release his cousin's arm. "I'm glad we had this little talk. And now, dear cousin, I believe you are decidedly de trop."

Letty realized what Geoff was planning a moment before Jasper did. With a seemingly effortless movement, Geoff took his cousin by the scruff of his pants and swung him over the side of the wagon, right into the gutter. Jasper landed with a splash, cursing with enough vehemence to assure the onlookers that he was more outraged than injured.

Picking himself up, and flicking bits of refuse off his person, Jasper cast a malevolent glare over his shoulder at a pair of small children, who pointed and laughed.

"Good-bye, Jasper," called Geoff. "Don't forget to write your mother from India."

Jasper didn't bother to respond. Aiming a kick at a small dog who was exploring a tasty morsel that had attached itself to his boot, Jasper limped away, radiating indignation and refuse.

Wiping off his hands, Geoff glanced over his shoulder at Letty. "I should have done that years ago."

Letty would have liked to run to Geoff, to fling her arms around him, to cover his face with kisses, but the force of long habit held her back. That, and the echo of Jasper's jeering voice, pointing out just how much Geoff had wanted to marry another. Her own sister, in fact. Jasper was Jasper—and currently covered with muck—but that didn't change the fundamental truth of his assertions.

Clambering awkwardly down from the box, she joined Geoff in the wagon bed. Standing next to him, near enough that her sleeve brushed his, she watched Jasper's retreating form.

"Did you have to drop him on the softer side?"

"He is my cousin."

"He's a murderous swine," countered Letty stoutly.

Geoff looked down at her, a slight smile playing around his lips. "That, too."

That smile made Letty distinctly nervous. She took a half step back, skidding a bit in the straw. "If he had succeeded, you could have been free."

Geoff reached out to steady her, his hands cupping her elbows.

"I don't want to be free," he said.

Letty's eyes searched his face for some sign of reservations, something held back. "Not in that way, you mean?"

Geoff's hands tightened on her arms. "Not at all."

Letty bit her lip. Of course, he would say that. How could he say otherwise, without making himself complicit in her attempted murder? After all, she was his responsibility, and he was bound to protect her, whether he liked it or not.

Letty knew she should just let it drop, accept his avowal in the spirit in which it was offered, and go on home, to a bath, to a debriefing, to normal life. But she was sick of being a responsibility, and she was sick of polite platitudes.

"What about Mary?" she pressed on, lifting her bruised face earnestly toward his. "It's Mary that you want, that you've always wanted. I'm not Mary—I couldn't be Mary if I tried."

"No, you couldn't," agreed Geoff, his hands sliding up her arms. "I wouldn't want you to be. You're far more precious as you are."

Letty shook her head, mutely rejecting the compliment.

"I want you," Geoff said, his eyes intent on her face in a way that made Letty feel curiously bare, all the machinery of her mind, all her thoughts and emotions, his for the taking. "Not Mary. You."

"You don't have to say that," remonstrated Letty, putting a hand against his chest to ward off further words. "I know you're trying to be kind, but—" How could she explain that it was far crueler to raise hopes that couldn't possibly be realized?

"Kind?" Comprehension kindled in Geoff's gray eyes. His lips twisted in exasperated fondness. "I'm not being kind. Mary was—" Pausing, Geoff groped for an explanation, his expression abstracted. "Mary was a young man's dream."