Chapter 5

CHAPTER FIVE

J asper kept his expression inscrutable lest the woman before him understood how close he had come to ravishing her. Though she had always lingered on the edge of his awareness, he had never allowed himself to be drawn too close to her. But now that he had kissed her, Jasper knew with utmost certainty that even months later, he would recall the sweetness of her mouth and the passion in her response.

She folded her hands in her lap and lifted her chin. Those silver eyes darkened with shadows, and her lips trembled before she firmed them. It was evident the mere thought of that blackguard unsettled her. Jasper moved to the cabinet and poured a generous portion of brandy into a glass and handed it to her.

"Drink," he said softly.

She accepted it, bringing the glass to her lips. The brandy was strong, and she winced slightly at the first sip, but then her shoulders relaxed as the warmth of the liquor began to spread through her. Her cheeks pinkened, the alcohol working its magic.

Jasper took the chair opposite her, watching her carefully. After a moment of silence, he asked, "Tell me what happened."

Honor's hands tightened around the glass. She didn't answer immediately, looking down at the fire as if it might provide the words she struggled to find.

Jasper, sensing her hesitation, leaned forward slightly.

"I've heard the rumors," he continued, his voice gentle. "But I want to hear it from you."

Her lips parted slightly, and she sighed deeply before speaking. "I went to the library for some quiet. Lord Whitby followed me, and ... he said he would kiss me and win a wager. I hit him. Hard. He ... fell, and then the door opened. That's when they all saw us."

The thought of that vile fool putting his hands on her, trying to force her into such a compromising situation, filled him with icy anger. Whitby was a scoundrel, and his actions were insupportable.

"I did nothing wrong," Honor said, defiance flashing in her eyes. "But now my parents ... they think the only way to render me respectable is for Lord Whitby and I to marry. It seems my father already approached him and an agreement was reached."

Jasper's chest tightened. He wanted nothing more than to find Whitby and make him pay for what he had done. Instead of defending his daughter's honor, the viscount was forcing her marriage.

Bloody hell .

"Do you wish to marry him?"

"No," Honor said. "With everything inside of me, I do not wish to marry that man. I understand I'll have to marry someone. That's the only way out of this."

Jasper remained silent for a moment, watching the fear and determination on her face. She was right—marrying Whitby would be no solution at all.

She laughed then, a small, self-deprecating sound. "I have always wanted to marry, to be the mistress of my own home, to have a life of my own. I have been out since nineteen, and no one has ever courted me. Now, who would ever want to? Who would want me after this? I think I could give up on those dreams, but my sister should not suffer a similar fate. Moriah is very kind and lovely. It is for her why I must do everything possible to restore my reputation."

Jasper's heart clenched at her words. It amazed him how brave and courageous she was, how compassionate.

"If you think no one will court you, you're mistaken. It can be done with the right influence."

Her eyes flicked to his, startled. "What do you mean?"

He scrubbed a hand over his face. What the hell was he getting himself into? "You are desirable, Honor. You are lovely, intelligent, and sensual."

Honor stared at him, her eyes wide in shock, as if she couldn't believe what she was hearing. "What are you saying?"

Jasper exhaled slowly. "Perhaps all you need is ... slight changes," he said, carefully choosing his words. "Wear bolder colors and have someone with power and influence make a show of courting you. Others would take notice."

A shadow of insecurity darkened her eyes, and her brows knitted together in confusion. "Who would dare make a show of courting me?"

Logic told him to stay out of this mess, to let society deal with Whitby and its consequences. "I would," he said, the words leaving his lips before he could second-guess them.

Her lips parted, and she stared at him, incredulous. " You? "

Jasper held her gaze, fighting the urge to reach out and pull her into his arms, to kiss the sadness from her eyes and make her forget even for just a moment.

Bloody hell . That his thoughts traversed such a path was enough that he should stay away. His awareness of her was becoming a sharp, distracting ache. "It would only be a pretense."

"A fake courtship," she said slowly.

"Yes, but we will be believable," he said. "If society believes a gentleman of my reputation, and I am inarguably one of society's most eligible bachelors, would dance and pay attention to you, many of the men will start to wonder what they had overlooked. I will court you. And together, we'll make the ton believe that they have completely underestimated you. I promise you will then have your pick of suitors."

Her teeth tugged worriedly at her bottom lip. "You would do this for me?"

"Yes."

Her soft gaze kissed over his face as if she were trying to peer into his damn soul.

"Why?"

He arched a brow. "Does kindness need an explanation?"

She wrinkled her nose in a rather charming manner. "Sometimes it does ... but I suppose you and I are friends of a sort."

Friends? "I suppose we are."

He had always avoided spending too long with any young lady alone. Since he inherited the dukedom nine years ago when he was only seventeen, Jasper had escaped no less than five compromising traps. The lengths many mothers and their daughters would go to snag a duke was outrageous.

"Is such a courtship not a double-edged sword? Should you pay me such regard and then stop, surely, they will celebrate you coming to your senses."

"We will make a show of it," he drawled. "If it comes to you, we will act out a scene where you give me a tongue lashing and walk away with your head held high. Overnight, everyone will want you at their balls."

"The fools," she gasped, then laughed.

The sound was light and airy, traveling through his body and unspooling warmth. He almost scoffed at the fanciful thought.

"However, it might not come to such a scene. Once I show my acceptance and support, the men who were courting your sister will resurface. Others might even start showing you interest."

She held his gaze for a long time, and then said, "What will your betrothed think of you flattering me with such attentions?"

Jasper stilled. "She will have no thoughts on the matter."

Honor's eyes widened. "You are truly engaged?"

"I am not."

"I ... I do not understand."

"It is complicated."

Honor lifted her chin, and her brows drew together over the fierce silver glitter of her eyes. "Please explain, Your Grace. I would be most pleased to accept your help. However, I would never wish to hurt another for my contentment."

Admiration rushed through him. In his world, either dealing with other powerful men in the House of Lords or those in business matters, he had never met anyone who did not care about matters that did not administer to their own comfort.

"Years ago, my father gambled away several hundred acres of land and a manor in Berkshire, both part of my mother's dowry. The man who won them was the Earl of Redfield, and in exchange, he promised that the lands and manor would become part of his daughter's dowry. As a result, my father betrothed me to his daughter, leaving the responsibility of reclaiming what he lost squarely on my shoulders. It is a duty and responsibility I have accepted. Lady Cassandra is only fourteen now, and I am expected to formally meet her at her come-out in four years. I assure you, whatever happens between us will not affect that future alliance."

Honor stared at the duke, almost afraid to reach for what he offered. A fake courtship had the power to restore her acceptance within the ton , to save her reputation, and to salvage her family's standing. Yet, there was a dangerous precipice before her—one where she might fall in love with the man standing so calmly before her.

There was no illusion in her mind that Jasper would ever return her regard. His indifference since they first met had made it clear that he did not see her as desirable, not in the way she wished he might. It was his innate kindness that had led him to offer help—nothing more. And yet, despite knowing this, she couldn't ignore the temptation tugging at her heart. Perhaps, with time, he could come to see her differently. He had seemed to enjoy her kisses, hadn't he?

A pang of longing broke open inside her, raw and unfamiliar. What would it be like to let herself believe in the possibility of happiness? To reach for it, despite the risks?

I'm being foolish , she reminded herself. Men of his rank and consequence didn't marry young ladies like her. Even if Jasper's formal engagement wouldn't take place for another four years, it was an inevitable conclusion. Lady Cassandra would be of age by then, and their betrothal would become official. To protect herself from heartache, Honor knew she should find another path forward, away from dancing too close to the duke.

But before she could form her refusal, a devilish gleam entered the duke's gaze, his expression one of challenge and amusement. "Don't tell me you need me to dare you."

Honor's breath caught. "I cannot believe Grace would have told you about our fondness for dares and wagers."

"Hmm," he murmured, his smile deepening. "My sister has shared quite a lot about 48 Berkeley Square. In fact, I'm intrigued enough that I've considered applying for honorary membership."

"No men allowed, I'm afraid."

"I dare you to take my hand and step forward."

Honor's gaze flicked down to his outstretched hand, her heart racing. The challenge in his eyes made her pulse quicken, the idea of entering this fake courtship suddenly feeling more real, thrilling, and frightening. Could she truly walk this path, knowing the risks? Could she take his hand and pretend affection in front of society while her own attraction to the duke was dangerously real?

When he first suggested it, the weight of her troubles seemed to lift before she started assessing the disadvantages. Perhaps with the duke by her side—even in pretense—everything might be salvageable. Maybe, just maybe, she could navigate this charade without losing herself entirely.

"Very well, Your Grace," she said softly, taking his hand. "I accept your help. Thank you."

Jasper's smile deepened, a glint of something unreadable flashing in his eyes. "Then let the game begin."