Page 47 of The Rake’s Convenient Bride

But now was not the time to bring up marriage, with her eyes starry and fevered from orgasm. No, tomorrow would be better. When he called on her following the engagement party.

He would tell her then of his wish to marry her, and hoped to God that this real proposal ended in a yes.

12

Elizabeth practically floated into bed that night, her body still warm and humming from Jasper’s touch. Morning, however, brought a stark reality, when fantasy gave way to the truth of reality. The night before had been about roles acted out like fantasies—a fairy tale.

With Grace’s engagement party soon approaching, there was no more need for pretending.

Although the way he had spoken the night before, perhaps he was not pretending. She would watch his face as she spoke, to gage his reaction.

Resolved, Elizabeth pulled herself from bed as her maid entered, preparing herself to begin her day, and steeling herself for the inevitable visit from Jasper that would surely follow on the heels of their engagement party.

When Jasper’s daily hothouse flowers arrived, they came delivered in Jasper’s own hands. Lovely pink and white tulips, their waxy petals opened and full, on fragile stems. He offered them with a charming smile. “I believe you stated these were your favorite.”

Grace accompanied them in the drawing room, tucked into the corner overlooking the garden, her attention fixed on a bit of sewing. The favor was one Elizabeth had repaid when Scorbridge called on Grace, each sister affording the other as much privacy as possible under society’s strict rules.

But even that extra privacy was not as much as Elizabeth wished she and Jasper could have with what needed to be said. Still, one must make do.

Jasper sat beside Elizabeth, his hands absent gloves, his long, tapered fingers calling her attention. Her thoughts raced back to the night before, what he had done with those fingers. How skillfully he had played her body. How readily she’d melted at his touch, under what he’d done to her.

All night she had wondered what more he could do to her.

He followed her gaze and gave a lopsided grin. “Last evening was memorable.”

Heat scorched her cheeks. “Indeed.” Her voice caught with an embarrassing croak, and she quickly cleared her throat, reaching for her teacup.

“However…” He glanced at where Grace had all but turned her back to them. “I should not have done what I did.”

“You regret it.”

Something played in his eyes, unreadable, but concerning. “Regret? No, there is much more to it than that.”

A tap of panic resounded in the back of Elizabeth’s mind. This was where he reminded her they were just feigning being lovers, that the charade had gone too far. That she was a fool to try to read into anything else.

“You see…” He shifted on the sofa, his words halting as if he had difficulty piecing together exactly what he wanted to say.

And Jasper was never at a loss. Not like this.

No doubt he was trying to let her down easy.

Elizabeth set aside her teacup with a hasty clatter. “My sister will be having her engagement party soon. In just over a week.”

Jasper blinked. “I’m sure Scorbridge will be immensely pleased to finally be making their engagement official.”

“Precisely.” Elizabeth sat nearer to the edge of the seat, lowering her voice. “And that means we need not be engaged much longer.”

His eyes narrowed shrewdly. “I see.”

But what did that mean?

“The entire point of ensuring our engagement was to allow Grace to finally marry the man she loves,” Elizabeth babbled on in a bid to see his expression change into something readable. “Once they have publicly announced their engagement, the ruse of our impending union is no longer necessary. It will free you up to find a lady more suitable for you that can give your grandmother the great-grandchildren she wants.”

His face went blank for the span of several moments before finally breaking out in a smile. “What a relief.”

Her heart broke at such a statement. His reaction jabbed at a place inside her, creating a wound from what had once only been a sore spot.

She had been correct. No matter how well he played the part of lover, he did not want her.