Chapter 9

9

T he night at Almack’s was as tedious as always to Elizabeth. Dressing up, putting on airs for the sake of those around her, being subjected to the dry cake and watery lemonade that was served week after week after week. Elizabeth would far rather be home, curled up on the righthand side of the sofa with a new book in her hands and a hot cup of tea at her side.

Her friends usually made the miserable experience tolerable, only this time Lucy had begged off with an illness that was undoubtedly feigned, and Amy was tending to one of her sisters who was truly unwell. Even Jillian, who generally remained at Elizabeth’s side, was dancing with another young gentleman her father thought would suit her.

The poor thing had been promised she could choose her own husband this year, but her father hadn’t stopped sending his choices her way at every opportunity.

At least now, Elizabeth could readily decline offers to dance as she was engaged. While, yes, she could still dance, her need to impress men was no longer necessary to please her mother as Elizabeth no longer had to find a viable suitor.

For now, at least.

She did not want to think of what lay in her future. The dissolution of her engagement, the scandal that would ensue, searing through the gossip pages, and her inevitable re-entry into the marriage mart—a slab of used meat placed back on the shelf, as it were.

And giving up Jasper…

She had thought about him often, more than she should. Especially after the conversation in the carriage. He had been honest with her about his reputation, a rake with scruples. Another thing she could not free from her mind was his promise that he would never touch her.

Despite his vow, she could think of nothing else at night. In dark privacy of her bedchamber, she imagined what his fingers might feel like as they whispered across her skin, wondered at the heat of his lips that often grazed the back of her hand and what they might feel like as they explored other areas of her body. Her neck, her mouth, perhaps even her breasts.

A delicious warmth spread through her body, flooding her cheeks with a blush that made her look down at her toes, fearful someone might be able to see into her wicked thoughts.

The music began to slow, as did the dancers in preparation for the song to end. Elizabeth straightened, eager for Jillian to return, to provide ample distraction from thoughts of Jasper.

He’d been the perfect gentleman in his attempt to make everyone believe he was genuine in their engagement. The day after their carriage ride, there had been a new bouquet of flowers, tulips this time, a delicate blush pink that he said reminded him of the gown Elizabeth wore when they went to Hyde Park. The following day had been brilliant yellow daffodils that brightened the room.

That very morning had been yet another bouquet—white roses with stems and leaves of the darkest green.

Jillian’s newest unwanted suitor guided her toward Elizabeth, a pompous grin on his face as he glanced about, apparently eager for people to witness them together.

The man had no idea how little Jillian liked his person, not that finding out would deflate his engorged ego.

A glance at the clock indicated the time was very nearly eleven, when the doors to Almack’s would shut, barring any further attendees that evening.

Disappointment flickered in Elizabeth. She had hoped Jasper might make an appearance.

It was likely foolish to harbor such hopes, and yet her gaze wandered toward the door just as a pair of footmen approached to close it to late arrivals.

“I don’t require lemonade, but thank you,” Jillian’s voice pulled Elizabeth’s focus from the door and back to her friend.

Jillian’s dance partner hesitated at the rejection, his mouth opening as if he meant to make another offer, further postponing his departure.

“Good evening, my lord,” Lady Jillian said firmly. “Thank you for the dance.”

He nodded, his smile tight as he spun round and left Jillian in peace.

“That was like trying to scrape something sticky from the bottom of my shoe.” She puffed out a breath of air that sent the delicate curls on either side of her face floating upwards. “Come, let’s procure our own lemonade and hope he sees. It would do him good to know my disinclination had nothing to do with refreshment, and everything to do with him.”

“So much for your father letting you choose your own husband this year.” Elizabeth cast her friend a sympathetic look.

“He said I could choose, but apparently that didn’t mean he wouldn’t continue to send suitors my way.” Jillian’s gaze skimmed the crowd, as if anticipating the next assault of another dance request from yet another suitor. Her eyes caught on something and a smile teased at her lips. “Oh, Elizabeth…” There was a singsong note to her voice, a playful tease, and it pulled Elizabeth’s attention to the doors.

Jasper skirted inside just as the footmen put their hands on brass handles to seal them shut.

Elizabeth’s heart knocked against her ribs. Jasper had come after all.

Jasper was not often in attendance at Almack’s and only went when coerced by friends. But not tonight. Tonight he arrived with purpose, and it had everything to do with Elizabeth.

Ranford approached Jasper as he entered the stuffy establishment, much to the irritation of the footmen attempting to close the great doors.

Jasper gave them an easy smile even as he breathed a sigh of relief at having made it just minutes before eleven, when the doors would close.

“You just made it.” Ranford lifted his dark brows. “I’m surprised to see you here at all.”

Before Jasper could answer, his gaze was already searching the room, seeking Elizabeth.

And locating her immediately. As if he knew where to find her, drawn by intent alone.

Elizabeth chatted with Lady Jillian, each of them frosted in a pastel frock. Elizabeth was in blue, a delicate, pale color that made her skin look like cream in the candlelight.

“Ah, maybe I am not so surprised,” Ranford amended. “Felicitations on your engagement. Lady Elizabeth is one of the kindest women I know.” He took a breath, as though he meant to speak and then thought better of it.

Jasper regarded his friend with the lift of a brow. “What is it you mean to say?”

Ranford glanced at Elizabeth. “I hope your intentions with her are true, my friend. She is a good woman.”

Anger lashed through Jasper at the implication that he might harbor ill will toward Elizabeth. Why did everyone seem to think he intended her harm? “I don’t debauch women. You know that.”

“I also know how you have watched her in the last two years.” Ranford put his hands up, palms open in surrender. “If you say to trust you, I will. Now stop wasting your time with me and go see to your lady.”

Jasper did not need to be told twice. He made his way through the throngs of people to where Elizabeth stood with her friend. As he approached, Lady Jillian nudged Elizabeth with her elbow and Elizabeth turned to face him with her mouth parted in surprise.

“My lord, I did not expect to see you here tonight.”

“I could not stay away knowing you were in attendance.” He grinned at her, and a blush crept over her cheeks. “Would you care to dance?”

No sooner had the words left his mouth than he knew they were the wrong ones. If she did not want a party where she was the center of attention, she would likely not want to join him on the dance floor where they would be seen by all.

Still, she nodded, ever one to please others, and took his hand.

He led her to the dance floor as the opening chords to a waltz strummed to life. Of all the dances that might have played, he was grateful it was the waltz. They would not need to trade partners as with a quadrille or be so engaged in the movements, like with a Scotch reel. In a waltz, they could talk. They could be close.

The dance would be intimately private.

Anticipation hummed in his veins.

He drew her toward him, one arm around her slim waist, the other holding her hand in his. Their proximity was such that her delicate feminine perfume teased at his senses in the most decadent way.

“Forgive me for asking you to dance, I should have realized you didn’t care for it,” he said quietly before the music began.

“It is good for people to see us dancing together.”

Yes, a reminder that this was for show.

“We’ll make sure to give them a good performance.” He winked.

A smile played over her lips. “Just keep me upright.”

He tightened his hold and swirled her across the dance floor. Her steps were sure and graceful, her wide blue gaze on his in a way that made the heat of desire coil within him.

“Thank you for the flowers,” she said when they slowed.

“They were my grandmother’s idea,” he lied.

Why had he said that?

Perhaps because it was better than confessing he went to the florist’s shop every day and hand-selected the flowers, imagining they would grace her bedchamber and wanting to select the perfect blooms.

“You put up a good facade,” she replied in a tone he could not read.

“Enough that I am receiving threats.” He led them into a graceful twirl.

“Threats?” she gasped.

“It appears my reputation has many concerned that I mean to use you poorly.”

She gave a soft laugh. “If only they knew that I was using you .”

Oh, how he wished she was using him.

The thought slammed into him before he could stop it, along with the images that flashed in his mind of precisely how he longed to be used by her.

“I’m sorry you are receiving threats,” she said with more seriousness as they swept across the dance floor. “I had no idea my friends and family were so vicious.”

“It is my own reputation coming back to haunt me.” He smirked. “Nothing at all to do with you.”

“About your reputation…” she mused.

He almost missed a step, but made up for it in just enough time to keep from tripping Elizabeth.

“You vowed never to touch me.” She met his eyes, her gaze direct and bold.

Why did he feel she was about to unveil a dangerous topic?

He swallowed. “I did.”

“But if you allowed yourself to.” Her tongue flicked out, dampening her lips, leaving them glistening and sensual. She glanced about, as though confirming others were out of earshot. “What would you do?”

A coil of desire low in his belly tightened. Was she truly asking this here?

“I beg your pardon?” he asked.

She didn’t look away, but kept that bold gaze fixed on his. “How would you touch me, Jasper?”

“I should not wish to sully your innocent mind,” he replied.

It was a lie. He wanted to sully her innocent mind with every caress, every kiss, every intimate touch he wished to bestow upon her person.

Elizabeth still did not look away. “What if it is not so innocent?”

He did miss a step then, but Elizabeth did a quick half step, keeping them both upright.

She smiled. “I told you I don’t always need saving.”

Jasper grinned at her. “Apparently I do.”

No sooner had the words left his mouth, than her feet tangled with his and he felt her tip in his hands. He tightened his hold on her, securing her body to his for an instant in an effort to keep her from falling.

She was lithe in his arms, sweet and perfect. How he longed to feel the press of her against him, naked silky skin arching against him, her bottom lip pouted out for him to kiss, to suck.

Color scorched her cheeks, and he knew she was mortified at having almost fallen before the eyes of all the ton—sharks, the lot of them. All waiting for a drop of blood so they could launch into a frenzy.

“I would start by touching the length of your neck,” he said softly, knowing no one else could hear them. Knowing she needed the distraction.

Knowing he could not stop himself from obliging her in this way.

After all, he was not actually touching her. He was breaking none of his promises to himself.

Elizabeth blinked in surprise, distracted from her embarrassment just as he’d hoped she would be.

“First with my fingertips, following the lines of your throat, then the hollows of your collarbone,” he continued. “Then I’d repeat that path, slowly and with my mouth.”

Her lips parted as she gave a little gasp.

“I’d nudge away the fabric of your low-cut bodice.” He held her tighter as they twirled with the other dancers. “You said you have a good imagination. I’ll allow you to use it to fill in what I might do there.”

He grinned down at her as they slowed and fell into a slow, sweeping step together. “Are you scandalized?”

“With your hands…or with your mouth?” she asked, her voice husky, sensual. Aroused.

“Both.” He cast her a wicked look. “Are you thoroughly shocked?”

“I’ve been more so.” She looked at him through her lashes. “Do go on.”

A low, languid laugh escaped him. He ought to stop. He knew as much, and yet there was a part of him that wanted to fulfill her desire, to tease his own desires by letting his mind play with the idea of touching her like a match. Holding it in his hands, appreciating it, but next striking it lest he erupt into flame.

“I’d raise the hem of your skirt,” he said softly. “Tracing the curve of your ankle, your calf, your knee…” They spun together, his mouth close to her ear. “Your thigh, where you tied that ribbon. Then higher, grazing my fingertips over the skin of your inner thighs.”

They moved closer in the dance. “And then higher still, touching you in ways even your imagination could not fathom.” He nearly ran them into another couple and managed to swirl out of their way before a collision.

“With your hands, or with…” Elizabeth swallowed.

“Or with my mouth?” Jasper finished for her.

She nodded and they turned one final time together as the music tinkled to a delicate end.

“Both,” he answered before bowing to her as she curtseyed.

He could not help but notice the brilliance of her cheeks as he offered her his arm to escort her back to Lady Jillian.

“Thank you,” she said in a quiet tone. “That was…most edifying.”

“I hope I did not scandalize you too terribly.” It was another lie. He genuinely hoped he had scandalized her terribly. That his words would hum around in her mind and follow her into sleep, the way she had done to him for so long.

She shook her head, mute as he departed.

The look on her face indeed did not reflect one of shock. Rather her soft expression and the darkness in her clear blue eyes was unmistakably one of interest.