Chapter 8

8

E lizabeth arrived downstairs to a bouquet of hothouse lilacs and her father’s scowling face.

“I wish I’d known about Darington’s proposal,” Papa said. “I might have declined his offer for your hand in marriage.” He huffed an angry growl.

He shoved the newssheet toward her and nausea rolled through her as she read the sordid details of how she and Jasper had been found together in the semi-dark study. Everyone would be speaking of this for weeks.

She put a hand out to steady herself. How were they to fix this?

Papa indicated a full bouquet of lilacs. “He sent these for you with a note that he would come to collect you at quarter past four this afternoon for a ride through Hyde Park.”

“You read her note?” Grace asked, horrified.

“This is my house,” Papa said, red-faced with an unaccustomed show of anger. “I’ll read any missive any of my daughters receive from any gentleman I feel the need to call into question.”

But Elizabeth was not vexed by his invasion of her privacy. Second to her gnawing malcontent at the ton being privy to her and Jasper being in the study alone, she was also concerned with the idea of Jasper coming by to take her on a carriage ride through Hyde Park. That would be during the fashionable hour, when people were out to be seen. She and Jasper would be alone together, in an open carriage, of course, so people would know the outing was innocent. But he would be acting again with those charming smiles, doting endearments, and deep gazes that threatened to steal her heart.

“The fashionable hour in Hyde Park,” Kitty exclaimed, her eyes alight with the excitement of a young woman enamored by everything in her first season. For her, society was a secret world of glittering balls and stunning gowns and romance waiting to sweep her off her feet. “What will you wear?”

Before Elizabeth could worry that she hadn’t a single stylish thing to wear for the fashionable hour, Grace sat up straight. “I have just thing for you.”

By the time Jasper arrived at quarter after four, Elizabeth was cinched into a peony-pink velvet jacket and skirt over a cream-colored bodice with a matching hat. Though Elizabeth had always protested such fripperies, she could not deny that in such a fine gown, she felt beautiful.

Even more so when Jasper’s eyes widened at her appearance and a slow, appreciative grin showed on his handsome face. “You look lovely.”

She nodded her thanks and allowed him to lead her to the open carriage.

Perhaps she ought to let her mother talk her into such gowns at her next fitting, or have Grace and Kitty join her at the modiste.

The day was warm, thanks to the sun high overhead tempering the icy wind sweeping off the Serpentine. Still, the chill nipped at their faces and left Jasper’s nose and cheeks red.

“I know you did not intend to see me until the engagement party,” Jasper said when they’d rolled away out of earshot. “But I believe we must keep up appearances given the article.” He grimaced. “You did see it, I presume?”

Elizabeth looked at the ermine muff encasing her hands and nodded. “I did. This invitation was a good idea. Papa was…not pleased.”

“I imagine he was not.” A muscle worked in Jasper’s jaw as he steered his matching chestnut bays toward the park where people had already begun to congregate, some on horseback, others walking. “I’m afraid my reputation has made the rumor all the more scandalous.”

Ever since Elizabeth first heard of Lord Darington, she knew he had a reputation. But she also didn’t entirely know in what capacity he’d earned that reputation, or why. After all, someone like Jillian had been rumored to run away from marriage due to a lack of commitment, when really her finicky approach toward potential grooms had more to do with her father insisting on who she marry.

Elizabeth’s hands were sweating in the muff and she pulled them out to let the cold air wash over her damp palms. “What is it you’ve done?”

Jasper snapped a look of shock at her. “I beg your pardon?”

This was not a polite conversation, she knew. However, her name was tied to this man until the engagement could be broken.

She cleared her throat. “If I’m to be the subject of gossip, I should like to be privy to the things you’ve done, to better arm myself against the rumors.”

This time when he looked at her, there was something appraising in his expression, as if in appreciation of the logic she presented.

He nodded. “Very well, though I caution this is not an appropriate conversation to be having with a lady.”

Elizabeth squared her shoulders, preparing herself for whatever depravity he might throw her way. “I might be clumsy, but I’m not fragile.”

He hesitated, and that is when Elizabeth’s imagination took flight. There had been bits and pieces of gossip she’d heard throughout the years of scandalous couplings by others. They all flooded back now. Affairs done out of doors where the couple could be seen, lacy attire that showed more than it hid, mouths going where they had no place being.

Despite everything in her upbringing reminding her that she ought to be repulsed by such things, a delicious heat hummed between her legs, creating an intriguing throb that made her want to rub her thighs together.

“You are warned that as a reader, I have an overactive imagination and your silence only feeds a vast array of possibilities…” She arched her eyebrow at him in a similar expression he so often gave her.

Jasper guided the carriage onto the path with the others, and joined the slow procession of nobility showcasing their grand carriages, prize horses, and elegant clothing. Those strolling by gazed up at the carriage, witnessing Jasper and Elizabeth making their very public appearance.

He looked at her and smiled at the quirk of her brow. “Very well, but I’ll not be accused of corrupting your innocence.” His voice was quiet as he spoke, keeping their conversation private.

“You needn’t worry about me, my lord.” Elizabeth smiled. “I am well aware of society’s gossip.”

Jasper shifted in the seat, no longer feeling the chill of the early March wind against his cheeks.

In truth, he was not concerned about shattering Elizabeth’s innocence by telling her of his past. As she stated, she was aware of the ton’s propensity toward salacious gossip, and surely that was more sordid than anything he’d done.

No, his hesitation came from a place of fear, that she might see for herself that he was a disappointment. But she was staring at him with expectation, silence filling the space between them as she waited for his reply.

He cleared his throat. “When I went on my grand tour, I had an exceptional number of lovers.”

She lifted her brows. “Is that all?”

He mirrored her shock. “You aren’t scandalized by my debauchery?”

“Don’t all men do that?”

“Not to the extent I did.”

“Were your lovers truly so great in number that you’re still referred to as a rake?”

He looked away, not wanting to see her reaction. “Enough to warrant the attention of others, and news of my exploits made its way back to England’s shores.”

“Were they…”

She hesitated, and he glanced at her in time to see her press her lips together. “Were the women innocents?”

He frowned, hating that she would even think such a thing of him.

“Never,” he replied firmly. “They were widows and women for whom marriage was not their intention. I would never…” he shook his head. “I’ve vowed to never touch an innocent woman.”

She studied him for a quiet moment. “I am an innocent woman.”

God, she was. Sweet and pure.

Everything he was not.

“And I will not touch you,” he vowed.

She looked toward a cluster of young women walking by in heavy cloaks, the brim of her hat obscuring her expression so he could not see what she made of his reply. The sounds of multiple conversations and the clop of horse hooves on the path filled the space previously occupied by their conversation.

She slid her hands from her muff and shifted in the carriage toward him. “Why did you do it?”

“I was young,” he replied simply.

She shook her head. “If what you did was excessive, the reason was more than youth.”

He considered her words, the depth to them. The stark truth she was asking him to lay bare.

Her wide blue eyes searched his. “What were you trying to forget?”

His breath caught and his heart thundered in his chest. Did she truly read him so easily? When even his own parents had turned a blind eye to him for the whole of his life, did she truly see so deeply into his soul?

A longing to tell her the truth burned in his chest like a glowing ember. To confess how his father blamed him for his mother’s death. How his brother’s death had been his fault.

How he’d let down everyone and found himself alone, rejected, unloved, and empty. How every woman he took to his bed, in the hopes of filling that void, had failed.

“I was trying to forget how awful London was and how much I dreaded going back,” he jested. A half-truth, for he did truly regret having to return.

Especially after his father died and all that awaited him was a vacant house, a title never meant to be his, and a mountain of regret.

Elizabeth’s emotions were shuttered from him as she nodded and offered a placating smile. Clearly, she was not fooled by his flippant reply.

That she saw him, truly saw him, was at once both a relief and entirely terrifying.