Chapter 14

14

S everal days had passed and still Elizabeth didn’t know why she had demanded to hear that Jasper loved her.

No, actually, she knew exactly why.

All her life, in every book she’d ever read, in every novel that swept through her soul, there had been a man and woman who loved passionately and fiercely. And while Elizabeth had never been keen on the idea of marriage, she was certain that if she should ever find someone worthy of breaking her pact with the wallflowers, that man would love her. Truly. Passionately.

She had even offered Jasper an out, an opportunity to suggest that he might in time come to love her.

He could not even do that.

Hiccupping a sob as she closed the second installment of Sense and Sensibility , feeling entirely like Marianne, the tears began to fall.

Again.

She’d been a miserable wreck since the picnic, mourning the loss of an engagement that had not yet been officially broken. Although she had sent him a missive informing him she intended to start spreading the news of her malcontent with him at Grace’s engagement party, citing how ill-suited they were.

She did not want him to see the rumors in the scandal sheet and be taken aback by the gossip.

He had not replied.

When she’d sent the note, time felt like a chasm, a yawning space she did not know how she would fill. Now, Grace’s engagement party was to start in an hour. The death knell for whatever it was that existed between Elizabeth and Jasper.

Companionship.

That was all it had been.

Playing at love that could never exist.

Because he could not love her.

Tears welled in her eyes again.

Heavens, she really was the embodiment of Marianne’s character.

She closed the book, unable to read about Marianne’s heartbreak when her own was so heavy.

But she must go to Grace’s engagement party—alone—and capitalize on the opportunity to spread her own rumors about their ill-fated union. After all, she had told Jasper she would.

She had even told her friends and tried to ignore how genuinely disappointed they all appeared at such news. Especially when they were evidently trying so hard to ensure Elizabeth and Jasper truly did end up married.

A soft knock sounded at the door. Her maid entered with a small notecard. “It’s from Lady Brightstone,” she said hastily, as though she herself could feel that small kick of hope in Elizabeth’s chest that the missive might be from Jasper.

Not that it mattered if it was or wasn’t from him. After all, what could he say that would change her mind? She would not marry someone who could not love her.

She unfolded the note from Hannah.

Dearest Elizabeth,

I am sorry I cannot attend the ball due to my delicate condition—at least I’m finally considered delicate by some means. Ha! Best of luck this evening. I shall be thinking of you.

But that is not all, I’m including an invitation to Spinster’s Sanctuary. They know to expect you whether it is tonight or any time this month.

All my love,

H

Spinster’s Sanctuary— the affectionate name they had given to Rosewood Manor, the beautiful home Hannah’s husband gifted her on their wedding as an escape for her, should she ever need it. The idea of the grand home had been part of their plan when they were all girls who decided to never marry, a refuge for them to congregate. And with Hannah being the first to marry, her husband had lovingly honored that dream with his generous present.

Elizabeth washed her face at the basin, the water ice cold and refreshing against the heat of her cheeks and eyes. The idea of getting away from London held great appeal to be sure. With that thought tucked nicely in the back of her mind, she hastily dressed and slipped into Grace’s room to help her sister prepare for her own engagement party.

Elizabeth couldn’t take her eyes off her sister, her chest swelling with pride.

Their father announced Grace’s engagement officially and she and Scorbridge had been inseparable throughout the evening ever since. Whether they were swirling over the dance floor or engaged in conversation, their eyes were starry with affection for one another.

Jasper had looked at Elizabeth like that.

His stare had been convincing even though she’d known he was acting. Yet there were so many moments she still recalled so vividly, like how he’d held her upright when they danced, after she’d so boldly teased him toward intimacy.

And how later, he’d deliciously obliged in the shadowed alcove of their patio.

“Have you told people yet?” Amy’s voice startled Elizabeth.

“I beg your pardon?” Elizabeth turned to her friend and found not only Amy, but also Lucy and Jillian staring at her expectantly.

“You don’t have to say anything, you know,” Lucy offered.

“He looked at you like that.” Jillian nodded across the room to where Grace and Scorbridge gazed adoringly at one another.

“Any way he regarded me was part of the ruse,” Elizabeth whispered.

“Was it?” Jillian arched a brow.

“Whose side are you on in all of this?” Elizabeth asked, incredulous.

“Always yours,” Lucy said vehemently.

“Which is why we want to make sure you are certain this is really what you want,” Amy said.

“Of course it is,” Elizabeth replied.

The three exchanged a dubious look.

“Then you will likely have your chance.” Jillian glanced toward Lady Hasselton as she approached, one of her ever-present feathers in her hair bobbing about behind her like an errant antenna.

Elizabeth steeled herself.

Lady Hasselton was keen on disproving the public love match between Jasper and Elizabeth for the scandal it was. There was a high likelihood she had been the source behind the scandal sheets finding out about Elizabeth being caught alone in the study with Jasper before Lady Gentry announced their surprise engagement. Lady Hasselton would certainly delight in hearing Elizabeth admit that she felt as though she and Jasper did not suit, and that she was strongly considering releasing him from his promise to marry her.

The countess paused in front of them, waving a fan in front of her face that set her feather bobbing at a frenzied pace. “I wager your father would be delighted if you have an engagement party soon,” she said to Jillian.

“I’d sooner announce the opening of an art school than I would a proposal.” Jillian smiled sweetly.

“Goodness, but you say the most preposterous things.” Lady Hasselton scoffed and gave a little snort of laughter. “An art school indeed!” To Elizabeth, the older woman nodded. “Your mother is lucky to be marrying off two daughters in one season.”

The moment was ideal for Elizabeth to share her unhappiness with Jasper, to lay the public fodder for an impending dismissal of their engagement.

Elizabeth opened her mouth.

Suddenly she wondered at Jasper reading the scandal sheets the following day, seeing their dissolution in bold print, detailed for all to see.

And would he be disappointed?

As disappointed as Elizabeth?

“Speaking of Lord Darington, he appears to be absent this evening.” Lady Hasselton made a point of looking about with great exaggeration.

Her purposeful demeanor in noting Jasper’s absence needled Elizabeth. “Mama is overjoyed at the prospect of two impending weddings,” she said finally, intentionally ignoring the opportunity to confirm Jasper was not in attendance, that they were preparing to part ways with one another.

Lady Hasselton did not appear to be put off by the exclusion of information, likely because her busybody pestering was often ignored.

“That last sister of yours will be married by the end of the season,” Lady Hasselton declared. “That’s how it is with sisters when more than one marries in a season. The other always follows. You mark my words. Especially as she is the prettiest of you three.”

She beamed as if she’d just bestowed the kindest of compliments, then swept away to join several friends, nearly hitting Lucy in the face with the feather. Lucy scowled unabashedly at the woman’s retreating back.

“That was interesting,” Jillian mused. “There was no mention of your fiancé.”

Amy blinked and looked to Elizabeth “Why didn’t you?—?”

Elizabeth shook her head, eyes welling with unexpected tears. She didn’t want to be here anymore, surrounded by people who were asking where Jasper was, knowing she ought to tell them she was unhappy with him, and being entirely aware that she could not.

“Hannah offered me the use of Spinster’s Sanctuary,” she said instead. “I think I am inclined to accept the opportunity. I need to think, to clear my head. Of him.” Her voice caught and she indicated the room of people with couples dancing and flirting and staring into each other’s eyes. “Of all this.”

“When will you go?” Lucy asked, not seeming at all surprised by Elizabeth’s announcement. Likely Hannah had told the others of her idea before making the offer to Elizabeth.

Now , Elizabeth thought mournfully. But sadly, now was not an option.

“I shall leave in the morning,” she replied instead. “Once I’ve had my bags packed and can speak with Mama about taking one of the maids with me.”

Amy smiled softly and rested a hand on Elizabeth’s forearm. “I hope some time away helps.”

Elizabeth nodded in appreciative agreement, hoping herself that the escape from London truly did help to free her heart from Jasper’s grip.

Jasper took his time reading during breakfast that morning. Elizabeth’s ribbon remained curled around his hand as Hughes set about preparing him for the day, uncharacteristically quiet as if understanding Jasper’s dark mood.

Once impeccably dressed and prepared for the day, Jasper did not leave the ribbon behind as he normally did, but left it curled in his pocket. A foolish attachment to remind him of the woman who had declined his offer of marriage. He reached for the door handle of his bedchamber and his hand shook, a sign of nerves he could not steady.

The scandal pages would be filled with Elizabeth’s self-imposed gossip, spreading word of their ill-suited match.

Part of him was dreading reading those words, to know that whatever had begun to blossom between them was irreparably withering. And yet another part of him—a harder, calloused part—wanted to know the task was complete and be done with the whole business so he could bloody well move on with his life.

Business of the estates would always occupy his time, and he’d put far too much aside in his pursuit of Elizabeth. The time had returned to focus on the Fitzroy estates.

Bess was casually reading the gossip pages when he entered room. He had expected theatrics, tears. At the very least some soul-suffering sighs.

She elicited none.

“Anything of note in the paper?” He hedged.

She lowered the large page. “By paper, I assume you mean my scandal sheets?”

A footman settled a plate of toast points in front of him and Jasper gave a noncommittal hum in reply to Bess’s question. As if his heart was not tethered to the words printed in that blasted newssheet. As if his anxiety was not rendering his nerves raw and ragged.

“There was news about Elizabeth’s sister’s engagement.” Bess put a hand to her chest, her blue eyes sparkling. “Such a lovely couple. There were so many remarks about how happy they looked.”

Jasper tensed, waiting for her to continue.

When she did not, he frowned. “Was nothing else mentioned?”

“Well, it was noted that you were not present.” Bess tossed him a smirk. “You ought to have listened to me when I told you repeatedly you should be in attendance.”

Good God, was Bess toying with him?

His jaw clenched. “And nothing else?”

Bess tilted her head in consideration. “There was rather a nice compliment on the floral arrangements.” She lifted her brow. “Was there supposed to be more?” She sat up a little straighter. “There was a reason you didn’t go last night, wasn’t there? Jasper, what have you done?”

“We didn’t think my attendance would be prudent when we knew we were intending to break the engagement.”

“Break the engagement?” Bess wailed. “But there is still more time and you can still win her over.”

But he was shaking his head. “You know I tried.”

“Once.” Bess put a finger in the air. “Sometimes women require more than one nudge to where they need to go. Your grandfather had to ask me three times, and the third I nearly said no.”

“I’ve given up, Bess.”

She shook her head. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I knew you’d act exactly like this,” he offered dryly.

She sprang to life and clutched a hand to her chest. “I’m dying. I’m going to die without great-grandchildren.”

Jasper rolled his eyes.

Bess grasped the tablecloth, gasping as a footman rushed forward to catch a cup of tea before it could upend onto the carpet below.

Jasper reached for the newssheet and snapped it open. “If you’re done dying, I shall tell you what transpired.”

She snapped upright, her cheeks as rosy as a woman three decades her junior. Though she had asked several times what they’d spoken of at the picnic, Jasper had not shared. His heart had not been able to take the pain.

“Are you sure you won’t expire if I speak plainly with you?” he asked, his tone droll. “I can’t have you upsetting the footmen.”

She waved him off as if he was a pesky fly. “No, no, perfectly fine.”

“I asked her to marry me, and she asked if I loved her.”

Bess’s face fell, eyes sad, her dejected expression relaxing into soft, wrinkled skin. Suddenly she looked older than she had since he’d known her.

Her immediate understanding stung.

“Is it so obvious I can’t love?” Jasper snapped, immediately regretted having done so.

His inability to love had nothing to do with Bess. In fact, any part of him capable of love was due to her.

His grandmother reached for him and set her hand on his forearm, her touch gentle. “The only thing I find obvious is that you think you cannot love. Your parents took advantage of your love for your brother, putting far too much trust in a boy to take on the responsibility of a parent.” Bess frowned. “I shall never forgive my son for the pressure he put upon you, nor the blame he laid at your feet. But do not let them keep you from being with the woman you love.”

“I don’t love her,” Jasper protested.

“Don’t you?” Bess chuckled softly.

“Is this about how I look at her?” Jasper asked, vexed. He’d heard enough of all that. “Such things are easily feigned.”

“You aren’t one for feigning, Jasper.” She smiled at him, her features relaxing with affection. “Besides, it is more than that, such as how you are always there to catch her if she stumbles and set her at ease. And how she stands up for you and looks up to you, like you hung the stars in the sky.”

“She doesn’t look up to me,” Jasper protested. “She knows my reputation.”

“This is why you think you aren’t good enough for her?” Bess asked.

Ah, yes. Jasper recalled he had shared that bit with Bess, though he now regretted having done so. Already he felt far too exposed in this conversation.

“You are worthy of her, Jasper,” Bess said firmly. “And she feels you are worthy of her too. If she did not, she wouldn’t love you.”

Jasper’s brows lifted. “You think she loves me?”

Now Bess grinned, revealing her straight, small teeth. “I know she does. It’s why she couldn’t marry you unless you loved her—which you do. The girl is a smart one. No woman can risk her heart around you, Jasper, my boy.”

“But I’m incapable of love,” Jasper protested.

“Stuff and nonsense.” Bess harrumphed. “If you were incapable of love, you wouldn’t care that I’m dying.”

“You’re not dying.”

She gave a good-natured laugh. “You wouldn’t care that I want a great-grandchild or that I want to see you happily married.” She took his hand in hers, her skin soft with age and cool to the touch. “Jasper, my boy, you are entirely capable of love, and you love that woman who absolutely loves you.”

Jasper blinked and thought about Elizabeth and how much not having her in his life left a vast emptiness, how he anticipated seeing her and marveled at her candid responses, at the way she deeply saw him when everyone else seemed content to judge only the mask he presented. How he relished selecting flowers for her by hand, each bouquet inspired in some way by his sentiment toward her.

By God, he was in love.

And he would get her back.

He pushed up from the table abruptly.

Bess gave a little cry of surprise, then beamed. “There’s a determined look about you that I rather like.”

“Have the carriage readied posthaste,” he informed the footman.

Bess clapped her hands, then clasped them excitedly before her bosom. “Are you going after Elizabeth?”

“I am,” he declared. “And I won’t stop until she is mine.”

Because he was in love, damn it, and wouldn’t waste another moment by not telling her.