Chapter 12

12

E lizabeth practically floated into bed that night, her body still warm and humming from Jasper’s touch. Morning, however, brought a stark reality, when fantasy gave way to the truth of reality. The night before had been about roles acted out like fantasies—a fairy tale.

With Grace’s engagement party soon approaching, there was no more need for pretending.

Although the way he had spoken the night before, perhaps he was not pretending. She would watch his face as she spoke, to gage his reaction.

Resolved, Elizabeth pulled herself from bed as her maid entered, preparing herself to begin her day, and steeling herself for the inevitable visit from Jasper that would surely follow on the heels of their engagement party.

When Jasper’s daily hothouse flowers arrived, they came delivered in Jasper’s own hands. Lovely pink and white tulips, their waxy petals opened and full, on fragile stems. He offered them with a charming smile. “I believe you stated these were your favorite.”

Grace accompanied them in the drawing room, tucked into the corner overlooking the garden, her attention fixed on a bit of sewing. The favor was one Elizabeth had repaid when Scorbridge called on Grace, each sister affording the other as much privacy as possible under society’s strict rules.

But even that extra privacy was not as much as Elizabeth wished she and Jasper could have with what needed to be said. Still, one must make do.

Jasper sat beside Elizabeth, his hands absent gloves, his long, tapered fingers calling her attention. Her thoughts raced back to the night before, what he had done with those fingers. How skillfully he had played her body. How readily she’d melted at his touch, under what he’d done to her.

All night she had wondered what more he could do to her.

He followed her gaze and gave a lopsided grin. “Last evening was memorable.”

Heat scorched her cheeks. “Indeed.” Her voice caught with an embarrassing croak, and she quickly cleared her throat, reaching for her teacup.

“However…” He glanced at where Grace had all but turned her back to them. “I should not have done what I did.”

“You regret it.”

Something played in his eyes, unreadable, but concerning. “Regret? No, there is much more to it than that.”

A tap of panic resounded in the back of Elizabeth’s mind. This was where he reminded her they were just feigning being lovers, that the charade had gone too far. That she was a fool to try to read into anything else.

“You see…” He shifted on the sofa, his words halting as if he had difficulty piecing together exactly what he wanted to say.

And Jasper was never at a loss. Not like this.

No doubt he was trying to let her down easy.

Elizabeth set aside her teacup with a hasty clatter. “My sister will be having her engagement party soon. In just over a week.”

Jasper blinked. “I’m sure Scorbridge will be immensely pleased to finally be making their engagement official.”

“Precisely.” Elizabeth sat nearer to the edge of the seat, lowering her voice. “And that means we need not be engaged much longer.”

His eyes narrowed shrewdly. “I see.”

But what did that mean?

“The entire point of ensuring our engagement was to allow Grace to finally marry the man she loves,” Elizabeth babbled on in a bid to see his expression change into something readable. “Once they have publicly announced their engagement, the ruse of our impending union is no longer necessary. It will free you up to find a lady more suitable for you that can give your grandmother the great-grandchildren she wants.”

His face went blank for the span of several moments before finally breaking out in a smile. “What a relief.”

Her heart broke at such a statement. His reaction jabbed at a place inside her, creating a wound from what had once only been a sore spot.

She had been correct. No matter how well he played the part of lover, he did not want her.

“Yes, a relief,” she echoed. “Likely we will not need to continue seeing one another as it will lay the foundation for people to see our affection for one another beginning to dissolve.”

A muscle worked in Jasper’s jaw, and he gave a single nod. “Of course.”

Really, she made such the suggestion not entirely for the benefit of layering the story in light of their impending broken engagement, but for herself. She could not pretend a moment longer. She could not see him every day knowing that he was relieved to be done with her presence.

If she was not to be with him, she did not wish to see him at all.

Better that he move on to a woman he wanted to marry, a woman he’d genuinely asked from the onset. And better that she free up her heart to possibly find a real engagement for herself. One based on love.

After all, that’s what she’d wanted since she was a young girl, despite the wallflower pact. If she was ever to marry, she wanted to find someone who would love her for her, exactly how she was.

“As to that, my lady, I suspect it would be best to take my leave.” He stood and put his gloves on, somehow severing the intimacy between them with that simple action. “We cannot have people assuming we are besotted with one another.” He gave her a smile that didn’t reach his eyes and made her immediately miss the warmth of his affection.

How quickly he could turn off the charm, as effortlessly as he had turned it on.

Elizabeth thought she would feel better having finally done what she’d intended since the moment they’d been found in that empty study together. Except she felt worse. Far, far worse than she’d ever imagined, and she spent the better part of the day curled up in bed with the excuse of a headache.

But while she thought she might feel better the next day, she in fact did not, going from awful to worse than awful when the usual morning delivery of hothouse flowers from Jasper did not arrive.

The absence of that bouquet was the beginning of the end, and already Elizabeth mourned the loss of the man she was never supposed to love.

The man, she strongly suspected, she absolutely did love.

Jasper prowled around Darington Place the next morning, lost in a tangle of thoughts from which there was no reprieve.

He dissected the conversation again and again, breaking it down piece by analytical piece. At no point had he shown his hand to his opponent. Surely, she could not have known he was going to propose marriage.

For years he had kept his heart sheltered by a wall, and now, he had finally begun to let that wall chip away, revealing the parts of him that were still wounded. Still raw. Still so bloody vulnerable. He had begun to let her in.

Thank God he had not yielded himself completely, lest he look the fool.

He was only glad she had ended things when she did, sparing his pride from yet another blow in life where one more might be mortally wounding.

When he finally allowed himself to show at luncheon, Bess was waiting for him with a small pile of papers. “I believe I’ve found the perfect baker to provide the pastries for your wedding.”

Jasper’s already sour mood curdled further. “There won’t be a wedding.”

Silence followed his announcement.

Bess lifted her brows. “There was a well-attended engagement party two nights ago that would suggest otherwise.”

Jasper shook his head, not wanting to discuss it. Least of all with Bess.

“You’ve changed your mind about her,” Bess said softly. “I worried she might be too tame for you.”

“It is not me who has changed my mind,” he replied. “Or rather, it is, but not in the way you mean.”

“You aren’t making a lick of sense.” She sniffed. “I imagine there is a wild tale beneath all of this intrigue.”

He scowled.

“Precisely.” She poured a fresh cup of tea for herself and one for him, then settled back in her chair. “I suggest you start from the beginning.”

He sighed and did exactly that, explaining how he’d gone into the study to escape all the Mamas and the debutantes they wanted to thrust in his direction.

“Well, that certainly explains why you haven’t found a wife,” Bess muttered, interrupting him.

“You certainly tried to hand sell me like a meat pie,” Jasper fired back, still prickly.

But Bess was never offended by such things and merely smirked. “I did rather, didn’t I?” She held up her hands, helpless. “Who could blame me? I was just trying to help. Anyway, on with your tale.”

He continued about how Elizabeth had entered the darkened study to fix her stocking and they had been caught.

“I suppose you can find a wife like that.” Bess cackled out a laugh. “A loose stocking, eh? I’m sure you didn’t mind catching a peek at that.”

“Bess,” Jasper said in a warning tone.

“I dare say, is that a blush creeping over your cheeks?” She tapped his knee with her cane and laughed again when he shot her an irritated look.

“At least that explains the study incident the scandal sheets mentioned.” She nodded encouragingly. “What happened next?”

“There’s nothing that happened next.” Because he was certainly not going to confess to his grandmother that he made Elizabeth come apart in his arms on the patio at their fake engagement party.

“Obviously something happened next.” Bess threw her arms up and exasperation. “The way she looks at you. The way you look at her. I’m old, but I am not dead, my boy. You take my word for it, that woman wants to be your wife in earnest.”

Jasper rolled his eyes, annoyed at having to recount the minute—not to mention painful—details. “Her younger sister has been wanting to become engaged, which is why Lady Elizabeth continued along with the scheme for as long as she did. Now that their engagement party is set to happen in the next week, she plans to call off our engagement.”

“Which makes you feel like you are no longer needed,” Bess said softly.

Her words were like a blade to his heart, slicing into him with the truth he had tried too hard to acknowledge.

“Why the devil don’t we drink scotch at luncheon?” He glanced about for the footman so as to request something stronger than tea.

“Scotch put you in this mess, Jasper. That wit and charm of yours will get you out. Just tell her how you feel.”

“I’m not…” Jasper ran an aggravated hand through his hair. “I’m not meant for a woman like her.”

Bess put a hand on her hip, affronted. “What the bloody hell do you mean by that?”

He gave a wry smile. “Grandmothers shouldn’t say bloody hell .”

“And grandsons shouldn’t change the subject when it’s important. Pray tell what you mean by ‘you aren’t meant for a woman like her.’”

He lifted a shoulder. “I could never be good enough for her.”

“That’s preposterous. You’re more than good enough for her, now put that out of your head.” Bess patted his arm. “Do you want a hug?”

An ache blossomed in his chest for the sweet embrace of his grandmother, like she used to do when he was just a boy. After Benjamin had died, followed not long after by his mother. The soft, warm, maternal embrace that made him feel like the world was all right again.

But grown men did not need such things.

“That’s unnecessary.”

“Maybe for you.” Bess pushed up on her cane. “But this old lady could do with a hug after learning she will no longer be receiving the great-grandchildren she’s been promised.” She shot him a pointed look, one meant to inspire guilt.

And blast it—she was successful.

“I’m still dying after all,” she added with a careless shrug.

“You absolutely are not.” With a sigh, Jasper went to his grandmother, and she wrapped her arms around him, filling his senses with that familiar rosemary scent of her. He relaxed into the embrace, taking comfort the way he’d done as a boy. “And thank God for it.”

She patted his back. “You just leave this to me.”

Jasper stiffened. “What do you mean by that?”

She released him, tutting as she readjusted herself upon her cane, a mischievous gleam in her eyes. “Never you mind. All will be well.”

“Bess.” There was a warning note to his tone. One she did not heed as she hobbled from the room. With purpose, damn it.

This would not end well.