Page 33 of The Rake’s Convenient Bride

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.

9

The night at Almack’s was as tedious as always to Elizabeth. Dressing up, putting on airs for the sake of those around her, being subjected to the dry cake and watery lemonade that was served week after week after week. Elizabeth would far rather be home, curled up on the righthand side of the sofa with a new book in her hands and a hot cup of tea at her side.

Her friends usually made the miserable experience tolerable, only this time Lucy had begged off with an illness that was undoubtedly feigned, and Amy was tending to one of her sisters who was truly unwell. Even Jillian, who generally remained at Elizabeth’s side, was dancing with another young gentleman her father thought would suit her.

The poor thing had been promised she could choose her own husband this year, but her father hadn’t stopped sending his choices her way at every opportunity.

At least now, Elizabeth could readily decline offers to dance as she was engaged. While, yes, she could still dance, her need to impress men was no longer necessary to please her mother as Elizabeth no longer had to find a viable suitor.

For now, at least.

She did not want to think of what lay in her future. The dissolution of her engagement, the scandal that would ensue, searing through the gossip pages, and her inevitable re-entry into the marriage mart—a slab of used meat placed back on the shelf, as it were.

And giving up Jasper…

She had thought about him often, more than she should. Especially after the conversation in the carriage. He had been honest with her about his reputation, a rake with scruples. Another thing she could not free from her mind was his promise that he would never touch her.

Despite his vow, she could think of nothing else at night. In dark privacy of her bedchamber, she imagined what his fingers might feel like as they whispered across her skin, wondered at the heat of his lips that often grazed the back of her hand and what they might feel like as they explored other areas of her body. Her neck, her mouth, perhaps even her breasts.

A delicious warmth spread through her body, flooding her cheeks with a blush that made her look down at her toes, fearful someone might be able to see into her wicked thoughts.

The music began to slow, as did the dancers in preparation for the song to end. Elizabeth straightened, eager for Jillian to return, to provide ample distraction from thoughts of Jasper.

He’d been the perfect gentleman in his attempt to make everyone believe he was genuine in their engagement. The day after their carriage ride, there had been a new bouquet of flowers, tulips this time, a delicate blush pink that he said reminded him of the gown Elizabeth wore when they went to Hyde Park. The following day had been brilliant yellow daffodils that brightened the room.