Chapter 6

6

T he scenery flew by faster than usual as the carriage made its way to Darington Place.

“Do stop fidgeting, Elizabeth,” Mama admonished.

Elizabeth froze even as ants of anxiety continued to wriggle under her skin. “Why did you make me wear white?” A quiver sounded in her voice, a reminder of how barely composed she was.

The day of the dinner arrived far too quickly for Elizabeth’s liking.

Much like the carriage.

Truly, why was it going so fast?

“White is a becoming color on you.” Mama turned to glance over Elizabeth and smiled in approval.

“Until sauce is splashed on my skirt.”

“Then don’t spill.” Mama sighed. “Truly, Elizabeth, just be more mindful.”

Elizabeth gave way to the energy zinging around inside her and shifted in her seat.

Mama never understood that Elizabeth didn’t mean to be messy or clumsy. No matter how hard she tried, there was always something that fell on her, or rendered her path uneven.

“Ah, here is Darington Place now.” Mama smiled as the carriage rolled to a stop.

Elizabeth clung to the seat, wishing she could remain there in the warm quiet of the coach. Alone.

Preferably with a good novel.

But the door was whisked open by a footman, letting the chill sweep in along with the stark understanding that she was out of time.

Mama exited the carriage first with Elizabeth following suit. They were greeted by the butler and led into a vast foyer, far grander than the one in their townhouse. Mama’s brows lifted toward Elizabeth in the ultimate maternal approval, and Elizabeth could practically hear her mother’s words in her mind.

An enormously wealthy man—well done, Elizabeth.

They were led to the parlor where Lord Darington—Jasper—waited with his grandmother.

Jasper immediately went to Elizabeth’s side, first addressing her mother. “Good evening, Lady Langston.” He smiled at Elizabeth. “Welcome to my home, darling.”

Darling.

There was a tug in Elizabeth’s chest at the endearment. Did he have to address her as such?

“Your home is lovely,” Mama said, the compliment one of truth as much as politeness.

“His mother did an exquisite job with her decorating.” Lady Darington shot Jasper a look. “He’s done nothing with it since. Evidently, he’s been waiting on a wife to take on the task for him.” At that, his grandmother turned to Elizabeth.

She froze. Was this a test of some sort?

“Grandmother, you already know Lady Langston,” Jasper said.

The two older women nodded at one another.

“And this is Lady Elizabeth.” Jasper grinned. “My fiancée.” He held Elizabeth’s gaze, as if he was proud of her. As if he wanted her there. “And Lady Elizabeth, this is my grandmother, the Dowager Countess of Darington.”

“What a delight to meet you again, Lady Elizabeth. You appear to be the woman who has captured my grandson’s heart.” Lady Darington lifted her chin, her eyes narrowed in assessment.

Elizabeth was saved from having to reply by the fortunate ring of the dinner bell.

Jasper offered his grandmother his arm and led the way to the dining room where the table had been set as if an entire party of attendees was expected. Brilliant red roses formed a centerpiece on the table, with a rose at each place setting, the stem scraped free of thorns.

They slid into their seats as servants rushed forward to lay their napkins in their laps. Elizabeth pulled off her gloves.

A smudge of black showed at the wrist. When had she even been near something dark to stain the white kid leather?

Perhaps when she’d held onto the seat, wishing to remain exactly where she was.

“You are a pretty thing,” Lady Darington said abruptly.

Elizabeth’s cheeks burned under the dowager’s curt praise, not entirely liking the way the compliment was phrased. A thing . As if she were a bauble to take out and put on and then return to its box.

Still, she mustered a smile. “Thank you.”

“Do you have sons?” Lady Darington asked Mama almost before Elizabeth had finished speaking. “Forgive me, I don’t recall. My memory isn’t what it once was.”

The servants approached with tureens and ladled soup into their bowls.

White soup.

A wave of relief washed over Elizabeth. At least if any did splash on the delicate white silk, it would not be glaringly evident.

Mama cleared her throat. “Daughters. I have three daughters, but my mother had a bevy of sons.”

Elizabeth looked at her soup and focused on eating the meal without spilling as her mother had suggested in the carriage. The task was preferred to listening to the conversation at hand with her mother trying to convince the dowager that Elizabeth might yet bear sons someday.

“After this, we ought to discuss our stores of livestock,” Jasper said. “Or perhaps if you find her hips suitable for birthing.”

Elizabeth looked up in time to see Lady Darington’s face go red with shock. “Jasper.”

“She is to be my wife, not a broodmare, Grandmother. Please be respectful.”

Lady Darington smirked at the reproach. But still, she nodded graciously to Elizabeth. “Forgive me, I’ve apparently been too long in the country.”

“She understands the need for an heir,” Mama answered hastily.

And while the answer felt as inappropriate as Lady Darington’s inference to needing a son, Elizabeth was grateful to be saved from speaking.

“Have you considered a date yet for the wedding?” Lady Darington asked before taking a small sip of the soup.

Elizabeth wanted to shrink inside herself. If they set a date, then they would have to begin planning. And once planning was underway and money had been spent and people employed…well, calling off the wedding would be more difficult.

“Possibly spring,” Jasper answered at the same time Elizabeth said, “Next fall.”

Lady Darington frowned, and sweat prickled at Elizabeth’s palms. She picked up her spoon to eat her soup, but her fingers trembled and the handle slipped from her hand, clattering noisily back into her bowl.

Three sets of eyes looked pointedly at her and heat colored her cheeks.

“Forgive me, it slipped,” Elizabeth whispered, utterly mortified.

“I never did like these spoons,” Jasper mused. “There’s no real grip to them.”

Elizabeth gave him a grateful smile.

Lady Darington looked between them. “So, spring, then?”

Once more Mama jumped into the conversation. “Spring truly is such a lovely time to wed. I think it’s perfect.”

Elizabeth opened her mouth to protest, but Mama kept speaking. “I’m thinking April.”

April was only two months away.

Elizabeth stiffened. “I don’t…”

“You’re absolutely right, Lady Langston.” Lady Darington leaned back slightly as a servant cleared away the soup bowls. “That will give them the remainder of the season to acquire anything they need for their home while in London. And perhaps a honeymoon in Italy.”

A honeymoon?

Elizabeth’s heartbeat thundered in her ears.

This was all happening far too fast.

“I think…” Elizabeth interjected.

“Oh, Italy would be perfect for spring, before it becomes too hot there,” Mama gushed. “And I was thinking hyacinths for the flower arrangements. They’re such a lovely spring flower, do you not agree?”

Except that Elizabeth did not care for hyacinths, their scent far too earthy for her liking.

“Will you simply be planning the entire wedding for us, or do we have a say?” Jasper interrupted and Elizabeth relaxed somewhat, grateful he had spoken up.

The older women ceased speaking for a breath of a moment as they looked at him, then returned their focus to one another once more.

“Absolutely hyacinths,” Lady Darington agreed as the servants entered and the briny, savory scent of herbed meat filled the air.

Elizabeth took a slice of beef, noting the distinctly reddish-brown sauce that posed a terrible threat to her pristine gown. The knot of anxiety in her stomach tightened.

“I should think Elizabeth would like to offer input on the wedding,” Jasper said.

Mama turned to Elizabeth, her expression bland. But Elizabeth knew everything that banal look hid. Doubt that Elizabeth would truly have a care regarding what happened at her own wedding. Disappointment that Elizabeth had never been that daughter she’d always wanted.

Grace had been that child with Kitty quick at her heels. Both filled with squeals of adoration for fashion and gossip. Both graceful and elegant.

Whereas Elizabeth much preferred the company of a book to any companion at a social event.

But what would Elizabeth actually like for a wedding?

She considered the possibility as the servant completed his way around the table to deposit a slice of beef and accompanying sauce onto each plate.

“I should like a wedding in the country, I think,” Elizabeth answered earnestly. “In a small parish church with only our family present. And in the summer, so we can use wildflowers.”

The image came to mind of a spray of daisies flecked with brilliant irises adorning the pews of a chapel, sunlight streaming in through a window of stained glass. And Jasper at the end of the aisle, waiting for her in a fine suit, that lopsided grin on his face.

Her breath caught.

Where had that last bit come from?

Letting her imagination dip into the possibility of their marriage was far too dangerous, something surely to be avoided.

She quickly cut a piece of beef and lifted it to her mouth, so she did not have to speak further, dream further.

Want what was not meant to be.

But as she brought the bite to her lips, the square of beef slipped off the tines and tumbled to her bodice where it rolled like an acrobat down the front of her dress. Brownish-red juice trailed down the creamy silk in a stain that would likely never come out.

The table went silent, and Elizabeth did not need to look up to know everyone stared at her.

She had single-handedly ruined the dinner. And presumably any chance that Lady Darington might actually approve of her.

Without thinking, Jasper dredged a forkful of beef in the largest pool of juice on his plate, lifted it to his mouth and let it intentionally fall.

The fork clunked to the floor, but not before the damage was done. A splotch of brown-red stained the smooth, clean lines of his white cravat and the meat fell into his crotch, leaving a brownish-red stain that soaked into his napkin.

Suddenly the stares that had fixed on Elizabeth were now pinned on him.

He shrugged a shoulder. “As I said, there is no grip to the silver.”

A servant rushed forward to collect the fallen fork as another presented him with a fresh one.

Bess stared at Jasper, first in horror, then confusion. Then her gaze cleared as understanding dawned, and her expression softened. She turned her attention back to Elizabeth once more. “Tell me, Lady Elizabeth, what do you enjoy doing with your time?”

The question was asked in a softer tone than her previous queries, which had been flung Elizabeth’s way as if they were an assault. As though she had already deemed Elizabeth to be merely be after Jasper’s wealth.

The softness in her demeanor continued as Elizabeth discussed her love of reading, a pastime she and Bess shared, as well as interest in music, with a shy admission of a dislike of needlepoint, which made Lady Langston go red in the face, but widened Bess’s smile.

Oddly, despite the stained clothing and dropped utensils, dinner was a success.

Jasper took Elizabeth’s arm leading her toward the door afterward while Bess and Lady Langston hovered in the back, nattering on about wedding details.

“Your poor valet, having to lift that stain from your cravat.” Elizabeth’s eyes lowered to the bit of white at his throat.

“At least he was spared from also having to contend with my breeches, thanks to the sacrifice of my napkin.”

Elizabeth bit her lip. “My maid can likely provide some tips. I’m afraid she’s had to become rather adept over the years, dealing with the likes of me.”

“My valet is more than capable,” Jasper replied, feeling as though he needed to defend Hughes. And yet the idea of having a reason to appeal to Elizabeth’s counsel was too appealing to decline entirely. “But I shall keep your offer in mind should he have need.”

“I know why you did it.”

Jasper lifted his brow. “Propose to you?”

“Why you spilled your food on yourself.” Her brow furrowed. “Intentionally.” That pretty blush he was finding himself so fond of colored over her cheeks. “To keep the attention off me. Because of how clumsy I am.”

“A couple should always be a matching pair, or so I think.” He plucked at his cravat and winked.

“You don’t have to do that…” Her lips twisted in thought. “Protect me.”

Jasper almost frowned. Had he been trying to protect her?

In fact, he really hadn’t bothered to consider why he done it. There had been a moment of shock as that lucky piece of meat bounced off her bosom and trailed down the front of her gown. He didn’t have to look at his grandmother and her mother to know they stared at her in barely concealed horror. He’d seen the humiliation reflected on Elizabeth’s pretty face.

And then he’d just done it. To spare her from mortification. To keep them from regarding her with any level of scorn.

Yes, damn it, to protect her.

The realization hit him like a physical blow.

He’d learned a long time ago he was bad at protecting people. Enough that he swore to never do it again.

And now here he was, with a stained cravat and a hero complex, when he knew bloody well he was the villain.

His thoughts drifted to that fateful day, when he’d been so tired of playing protector. When he’d shucked off his clothes and plunged into the idyllic lake at Fitzroy Manor that summer, the icy water sluicing across his skin, barely touching the fire of his rage at the unfairness of always being weighed down by his brother.

“I’ve lived with myself long enough,” Elizabeth continued, pulling him back from a place he did not wish to go. “I know well how to handle my foibles and suffer through my mistakes. I haven’t perished from embarrassment yet.” She offered a brave smile. “So, you see, I really have no need of saving. Your wardrobe should be quite pleased. After all this isn’t the first time your clothing has suffered because of me?—”

Her words cut off, and suddenly Jasper was hit with a different memory—this one far more pleasant. Another ball at Lady Gentry’s, though the season before, when Elizabeth had mistakenly spilled her lemonade all over him.

He glanced over his shoulder to find Bess and Lady Langston were still chatting by the study. She waved Elizabeth’s mother inside, leaving Jasper and Elizabeth momentarily alone.

“You mean the spiked lemonade?” Jasper asked in a velvety voice.

His teasing was rewarded with stains of color on her cheeks.

“Lucy was the one who put the brandy into the lemonade,” Elizabeth protested. “It was hers.”

Jasper leaned an arm against the wall, bracing his weight on one side of her, but left the other side open should she wish the space away from him. She did not move, but instead gazed up at him with blue eyes, transfixed as if waiting for him to share the story of how she had whisked her handkerchief and hastily dabbed at his waistcoat, following the trail of liquid until she realized she was brushing her fingers over his groin.

“It was your handkerchief,” he purred.

Her mouth parted in a gasp, that full lower lip tempting him beyond reason. He could imagine sucking it gently between his lips, letting his tongue graze across that delightful plumpness. Would she gasp as she’d done just now? Moan? Melt against him so his hands could stroke over her body?

“Are you going to kiss me?” She whispered the question so softly, he could never have heard it were he not so close to her.

“Do you want me to?” He studied her expression, relaxed and ready to yield to him.

The answer was echoed in her eyes, bright with an undeniable interest, her slender throat squeezing as she swallowed, little pink tongue darting out to moisten her lips.

God, how he wanted to kiss her. To sample the lushness of her mouth, to bury himself in her beauty, her sweetness.

But she was not meant for him.

The engagement would soon be called off and her innocence would need to remain fully intact.

He would not put her at risk of true ruin.

Damn it, this was why he’d only dallied with widows in the past.

“And that’s how we ended up with such a monstrosity,” Bess’s voice sounded down the hall, followed by a laugh with a volume deliberately meant for him to hear.

Jasper leaned back from Elizabeth. The lightheaded passion she elicited in him did not abate, even when freed from the draw of her proximity.

Elizabeth scarcely spoke as Lady Langston thanked them profusely for their hospitality at dinner.

“I look forward to seeing you tomorrow,” Lady Langston said as she pulled on her gloves.

“More wedding planning?” Jasper asked dryly.

Bess sniffed. “We need an engagement party first.”

Elizabeth’s face paled somewhat. “I beg your pardon?”

“Do you really think I’d allow my eldest daughter to be engaged and not throw a party to celebrate?” Lady Langston clasped her hands in front of her.

“And I only have this one grandchild.” Bess meant the reminder to be endearing, but it nudged against his heart like a burr.

After all, it was his fault he was her only grandchild.

Elizabeth gave Jasper a desperate look, but who was he to stop a proud mother and meddling grandmother?

With one last silent, helpless entreaty from Elizabeth, she and her mother swept out into the chilly February wind and to their waiting carriage.

No sooner had their front door closed, than Bess turned to Jasper. “Well,” she sighed.

Jasper waved his hand, expecting Bess’s critique of why he ought to have a proper go at a woman he’d known longer, and whatever else the impending miserable conversation entailed. “Let’s have it.”

“I dare say dinner was a success, though I don’t know that our laundress will agree.” Bess looked pointedly at his stained cravat, but even as she did so, a smile blossomed on her lips. “And I commend myself for having a discussion with your chef to do better or find himself a new employer.”

“The meal was surprisingly delicious,” he conceded.

“I could not stand by a moment longer while that man failed at his job.” Bess put her hands on her hips. “Mind you stay on him when I leave.”

“And what of Lady Elizabeth?” Jasper asked, unable to stop himself.

“Lady Elizabeth is a delight,” she effused, as delighted now as she had been irate only a moment before. “An absolute delight.” Her lashes lowered as she considered the gravy stain on Jasper’s cravat once more. “But you already know that.” A smile split Bess’s face. “I can see why you love her.”

Love.

Jasper almost blanched. Because love was what engaged couples should feel for one another, yet aside from Bess, there hadn’t been anyone in this world he loved. No one he intended to soften his heart enough to let in.

Bess narrowed her eyes, her expression going shrewd in that way it did when she saw more than he’d like her to. “Don’t ballock this up, Jasper.”

“Bess, I…” he hesitated.

“What is it, my boy?” She put her free hand on his forearm, concern in her dark gaze.

“She’s too good for me,” Jasper said simply.

At that, Bess gave a laugh. “Oh, well, if that’s all.” She patted his back. “Any woman would be lucky to call you their husband. Put any of those fears from your mind.”

Jasper nodded, pretending to be reassured, when in fact he was anything but. Those fears would never leave his mind. Especially with a woman like Elizabeth.