Chapter 3

3

E lizabeth stared in horror at Lady Gentry accompanied by Lady Whimbly and Lady Hasselton, notably the three most notorious gossips among the ton.

Lady Hasselton lifted her chin triumphantly, the wispy feather in her hair fluttering. “I told you I heard a sound.”

“What, pray tell, is happening here?” Lady Gentry demanded, her eyes boring into Elizabeth with what appeared to be blatant disappointment.

“I…I tripped,” Elizabeth stammered, her waist still tingling where Lord Darington had caught her, as if the heat of his palms had singed through her dress down to her very skin.

Lady Gentry lifted her brow and shared a skeptical glanced with her friends. “I believe I meant why the two of you are in the darkened study?”

“Oh.” Elizabeth swallowed. How was this to be explained away?

“I came in for something a bit stronger than lemonade,” Lord Darington answered honestly.

Lady Whimbly smirked. “I see you found it.”

And there it was, the implication Elizabeth knew the women had made. That anyone would make.

That a lover’s tryst had been interrupted between her and Lord Darington.

Such a thing ruined a young woman. Not only her, but also her family. Her sisters.

Grace .

If Elizabeth was ruined, Scorbridge could never propose to Grace. Elizabeth would be destroying not only her life, but also those of her sisters.

“Perhaps she’s trying to trap Lord Darington into marriage?” Lady Hasselton tittered into the wavering fronds of her feather fan.

That’s when the idea struck Elizabeth, one borne from a moment of desperation.

“I don’t have to trap him into marriage,” Elizabeth protested.

Three sets of eyebrows shot up.

Likely four, if Elizabeth had the temerity to look at Lord Darington. Which she did not.

God forgive her for what she was about to do, because Lord Darington likely never would.

Elizabeth squared her shoulders like a soldier preparing to step onto the battlefield. “We are already engaged.”

“You?” Lady Whimbly did not bother to mask her incredulity.

A humiliated heat blazed through Elizabeth. She was well aware of how impossible it was that a man like Lord Darington would bother to waste his time with such a bland wallflower as herself.

“The moment was impulsive on my behalf,” Lord Darington said from beside her.

Elizabeth snapped her head toward him, desperately trying to keep her expression from reflecting her shock.

“You see, I took Lady Elizabeth into the hall to speak with her.” Lord Darington met her gaze, his irises so dark, she could scarcely make out the pupils.

She could get lost in eyes like that, especially when he looked at her as he did now. As if she were the only woman to ever exist in his world.

“I was so overcome with affection that I knew at once I wished to ask her to marry me,” he continued.

Elizabeth could not look away, entirely enraptured.

“I could not well say such intimate words in the hall where there might be witnesses and so I pulled her into the study and proposed.” He inclined his head in an apologetic manner when one expects immediate forgiveness. “The fault is entirely mine.”

“Did you seek her father’s permission first?” Lady Whimbly demanded.

Elizabeth’s stomach dropped, but Lord Darington simply appeared amused by the question. “Would you be disappointed if I did not?”

Lady Whimbly huffed.

“Well, we must make the announcement.” Lady Gentry lifted her head with pride. “Nothing quite makes a ball like an engagement.”

She was correct. Every hostess wanted her ball to be on every tongue the day after, and nothing would do that more so than a surprise engagement announcement.

Especially when the impending groom was the bachelor of the season.

“I knew all along, of course.” Lady Gentry winked at them, her good humor suggesting she had forgiven Elizabeth for her folly earlier. “When I heard the rumor of Lord Darington needing a bride, I suspected there was a love blossoming between you.”

“It’s a scandal,” Lady Whimbly hissed.

The countess did not believe the story, blatantly seeing the lie.

“It’s romantic,” Lady Gentry bit out the words and gave her friend a hard look. “And we’ll be announcing the engagement at this very moment.” She pulled the door open wider in silent demand for Elizabeth and Lord Darington to follow.

Elizabeth tried to swallow, but her throat was suddenly too dry. She stepped forward, prepared for this death march of a walk into the ballroom. Lord Darington matched her step and offered her his arm.

The gesture was gallant and more than she deserved given how she’d trapped him in an engagement.

She slid her icy hand into the warm crook of his elbow where the superfine of his jacket could not hide the strength of his forearm beneath. There was a slight spicy scent to him, something warm and sensual. Beneath that was the smell of spirits about him, indicating precisely what led to his agreement to this preposterous scheme.

Something he would regret later.

How she longed for a moment alone with him, to apologize, to thank him for saving her reputation and that of her sisters. To let him know this was all a facade and she would free him as soon as possible.

But she would not have a moment alone with him, not until after the mortifying announcement of their false engagement and the rounds of surprised felicitations that would follow.

All she had time for before they passed the tall ballroom doors thrown wide open to her fate was a chance to look up at Lord Darington and silently mouth her thanks.

In reply, he simply offered a confident wink, as if to brush aside his noble act.

“Stop the music,” Lady Gentry commanded.

When one hosts a ball, they are the god of the night, and the music ceased as soon as the request was issued from Lady Gentry’s thin lips.

“I should like everyone’s attention, please.” She clapped her fingers delicately against her palm, her gloves making no sound at all. “It is my great pleasure to announce…”

Her brown eyes shone with glee as she glanced back at Elizabeth and Lord Darington, pausing for impact and likely to savor the moment her ball would become the most talked-about event of the season.

Every attendee followed Lady Gentry’s attention to fix on Elizabeth and Lord Darington.

Elizabeth stomach quivered, threatening to quake through her body and shatter her apart.

She did not want to be here, with so much attention feasting upon her. She did not want to look through the crowd to find the questioning looks of her friends, the shocked confusion of her parents, the enraptured expressions of her sisters, who would love nothing more than to believe such a romantic tale.

No, Elizabeth wished she were anywhere else in all of England other than Lady Gentry’s ballroom on the arm of a man with whom she was presumed to be engaged.

But she couldn’t run out now. Not with everyone watching.

Instead, she studied the tips of her velvet slippers peeking out from the hem of her gown and wished that the floor might open up and swallow her whole.

All at once the heat of a hand settled over hers where she held Lord Darington’s arm. She looked up to find his hand over hers, a show of encouragement that was echoed in the affectionate expression on his face. He nodded, as if to encourage her to do the same.

Her lips quivered into a smile, and she let herself tip headlong into the darkness of his deep brown eyes.

After letting the dramatic moment hang for far longer than was necessary, Lady Gentry continued, “Lord Darington and Lady Elizabeth Ashbrook are officially engaged.”

There was nothing at all official about the betrothal, and yet the oblivious attendees of the ball exploded into applause.

Fear and uncertainty and horror swirled in Elizabeth’s stomach, no longer able to deny the truth: she was officially engaged.

And to Lord Darington of all people.

Jasper was on his third serving of lemonade, the cloying sweetness mixed with the bite of brandy curdling with the scotch he’d already downed on an empty stomach.

“You finally found one to drag you down, eh, Darington?” An earl Jasper had only been passing acquaintances with until that moment slapped his shoulder as if they were lifelong friends.

What was it about people that made them flock to celebrations? As if the recipient of felicitations might somehow rub off their good fortune onto others.

Jasper set aside his irritation and glanced about. “Speaking of the lady in question, has anyone seen my fiancée?”

“Lost her already, have you?” The earl guffawed in Jasper’s face and the irritation flared once more.

Jasper gave the man a playful shove on his shoulder, intentionally setting the earl several inches away to reclaim his personal space. “I had best find her to remind her why she agreed to marry me in the first place.”

Several men milling around Jasper cheered, and the earl raised his cup. “Go on then!”

That was all Jasper had wanted to do since they were led out to the ballroom like one of the spectacles on display at Covent Garden. But rather than walking a tightrope with an umbrella or singing in a voice that radiated around the whole theater, Jasper had been publicly announced as engaged to a woman he had seldom interacted with.

A woman appeared in front of him, drawing Jasper to an abrupt halt. The dark-haired woman eyed him critically, her manner aggressive. How peculiar. But then, he knew her to be one of Lady Elizabeth’s friends.

“Ah, Miss Beauchamp,” he said as her name came to him.

She scowled at him. “If you’re looking for your fiancée, she’s on the veranda.” She stepped forward, hazel eyes flashing. “And if you hurt her, I tell you now, I don’t give a fig that you’re an earl or would care even if you were a king, I’ll kill y?—”

“That’s enough, Lucy.” A blonde woman—Miss Honeyfield—laughed breezily and pulled Miss Beauchamp back with a firm grip. “Don’t mind her.”

Miss Beauchamp’s scowl deepened. “Absolutely he should mind?—”

“Go on, go on,” Miss Honeyfield intoned in a singsong voice as she waved Jasper on with an overly bright smile.

And while Jasper loved a challenge, he would save putting Miss Beauchamp in her place for another day. Now was for speaking with Lady Elizabeth.

Dear God, his fiancée .

What the devil had he done?

He strode toward the doors to the patio with purpose and paused only to cast one last look behind him to seek out his grandmother. Likely Bess would be elated to learn of his engagement, especially after her show of announcing his intention to find a wife to every eligible young woman.

She knew better to point him out to the widows.

Despite Jasper’s numerous searches to find Bess, she appeared to be absent.

He pushed through the doors to where the bite of a bitter February wind reminded him winter was still in full force.

Lady Elizabeth stood by the railing in her short-sleeved gown, her gaze lost somewhere in the barren gardens below. A shiver wracked through her slender body, spurring Jasper forward.

He pulled off his jacket as he approached. “Lady Elizabeth, it’s far too cold out here to be in a ballgown.”

She turned as he placed his jacket over her slim shoulders, her large blue eyes glossy with tears.

“Lord Darington, I’m so sorry.”

“You should be, leading a man out here in the middle of winter so he might freeze.” He grinned at her to show he was teasing.

But she was not smiling back. “Oh, please don’t let me take your jacket.” She moved to sweep it from her shoulders, but he stopped her, putting his hands over hers.

“I jest, my lady. I assure you, I am adept at staying warm.” He kept his hands on hers. “And as my fiancée, I will always ensure you are warm as well.”

Though she was innocent, a sense of innate understanding flashed in her eyes, but she did not smile. “You need not be weighed down long with this engagement.” She glanced about, as if confirming they were indeed alone. “We need only maintain the facade long enough for the gossip to fade.”

There was a twinge in his chest, a bite of rejection at her words.

Yes, he had gone along with her charade to help her at the time, but now she stood in front of him, draped in his jacket, her rosy lips parting saying she had no interest in marrying him.

His lips twisted wryly. “Gossip can last a week or a lifetime.”

“Let us hope this will last only a week.”

Disappointment sank its teeth into him. “Lady Gentry wouldn’t like that.”

Lady Elizabeth sighed, her breath escaping in a puff of frozen air. “You’re right, she’ll keep the engagement forefront in everyone’s mind as long as she can, to ensure we all remember her ball. Although I should hope…”

She looked away shyly, and whatever she meant to say pulled him closer toward her.

Did she hope she might want to know more of him? To take their engagement seriously?

He should not draw such an idea toward him. He knew too well the pain of rejection from those one loved.

And yet…

“Tell me,” he insisted.

“My sister wishes to wed Viscount Scorbridge, but he cannot propose.”

“Because you have not yet married,” Jasper finished.

“As you so astutely pointed out earlier.” Lady Elizabeth nodded. “Perhaps we might be engaged long enough for him to at least propose, so my sister can find her happiness.”

“And what of your happiness?” Jasper asked.

She blinked. “Is it with you?”

There was no malice to that question, no mockery, and yet any ready answer he might have given stuck fast in his throat.

Was he capable of making someone happy?

He did not often find himself at a loss for words, and the silence between them went heavy.

“The engagement will be over soon,” she declared.

“Being my fiancée can’t be all that bad.” He spoke in jest, and yet there was a weight to his words he didn’t want to feel.

She sniffed again, the tip of her nose pink. “Why did you do it?”

The blue of her eyes was almost black in the inky night.

He stared down at her and recalled exactly all the reasons why he’d gone along with her charade.

Because he hated the idea of her in distress. Because there was so much unfairness that one as good and innocent as Lady Elizabeth would be ruined simply by association with him. Because for one brief moment, he hoped he might be good enough for a woman like her.

Instead, he placed a hand over his chest. “Because, my dear, I am a gentleman.”

But rather than laugh, she put her hand over his where it still lay over his heart, her gaze still locked on his. “Because you are compassionate, Lord Darington. And I thank you for that.”

Jasper had been called many things in his life. Compassionate had never been one of them.

The door opened, letting strings of music and chatter trail out of the golden ballroom as Miss Beauchamp and Miss Honeyfield exited together. “A few more minutes out here and you might cause a second scandal,” Miss Beauchamp whispered.

“You can call on her tomorrow,” Miss Honeyfield said with an encouraging nod to Jasper before they both slipped back inside.

They weren’t wrong. The last thing Jasper wanted was to compromise Lady Elizabeth more than he already had. He put his hand to the small of her back and guided her toward the ballroom.

There was a slick patch of ice of the ground, too large to go around. Jasper carefully led Lady Elizabeth over it. She jerked abruptly, nearly falling. Jasper caught her, steadying her in his arms, nearly losing his own footing in the process.

“I’m such a mess. I’m so sorry,” Lady Elizabeth stammered.

“Don’t speak of my fiancée in such a way,” he chided, and gently released his hold on her to offer his arm.

She put her small hand into the crook of his arm again, bringing with her that sweet powdery fragrance. His nostrils flared slightly as he inhaled the delicate perfume, committing its light scent to his memory.

He liked the way she held onto him, as if he were a rock amid a roiling sea. It made him feel sure and steady; it made him feel needed.

A curl of ribbon slipped from beneath the hem of Lady Elizabeth’s gown, the same white satin he recognized from earlier when she’d tied it around her slender thigh.

“Oh, bother.” Lady Elizabeth’s shoulders sagged. “I should very much just like to return home.”

“I’ll see to it.” He opened the door. “Wait inside. I’ll fetch your mother and then have my man ensure your carriage is prepared.”

A small smile touched the corners of her lips, and he knew she was grateful for his assistance. There was something to that approval that warmed him from the inside and made him stand a little straighter.

Lady Elizabeth saw him in a different light from any other person he’d ever known. Save perhaps Bess, who, despite their sharp banter, had always thought fondly of him. Jasper found he rather liked seeing himself from the angle that Lady Elizabeth saw him in, even if he knew that angle to be entirely wrong.