Page 49 of The Rake’s Convenient Bride

But Bess was never offended by such things and merely smirked. “I did rather, didn’t I?” She held up her hands, helpless. “Who could blame me? I was just trying to help. Anyway, on with your tale.”

He continued about how Elizabeth had entered the darkened study to fix her stocking and they had been caught.

“I suppose you can find a wife like that.” Bess cackled out a laugh. “A loose stocking, eh? I’m sure you didn’t mind catching a peek at that.”

“Bess,” Jasper said in a warning tone.

“I dare say, is that a blush creeping over your cheeks?” She tapped his knee with her cane and laughed again when he shot her an irritated look.

“At least that explains the study incident the scandal sheets mentioned.” She nodded encouragingly. “What happened next?”

“There’s nothing that happened next.” Because he was certainly not going to confess to his grandmother that he made Elizabeth come apart in his arms on the patio at their fake engagement party.

“Obviously something happened next.” Bess threw her arms up and exasperation. “The way she looks at you. The way you look at her. I’m old, but I am not dead, my boy. You take my word for it, that woman wants to be your wife in earnest.”

Jasper rolled his eyes, annoyed at having to recount the minute—not to mention painful—details. “Her younger sister has been wanting to become engaged, which is why Lady Elizabeth continued along with the scheme for as long as she did. Now that their engagement party is set to happen in the next week, she plans to call off our engagement.”

“Which makes you feel like you are no longer needed,” Bess said softly.

Her words were like a blade to his heart, slicing into him with the truth he had tried too hard to acknowledge.

“Why the devil don’t we drink scotch at luncheon?” He glanced about for the footman so as to request something stronger than tea.

“Scotch put you in this mess, Jasper. That wit and charm of yours will get you out. Just tell her how you feel.”

“I’m not…” Jasper ran an aggravated hand through his hair. “I’m not meant for a woman like her.”

Bess put a hand on her hip, affronted. “What the bloody hell do you mean by that?”

He gave a wry smile. “Grandmothers shouldn’t say bloody hell.”

“And grandsons shouldn’t change the subject when it’s important. Pray tell what you mean by ‘you aren’t meant for a woman like her.’”

He lifted a shoulder. “I could never be good enough for her.”

“That’s preposterous. You’re more than good enough for her, now put that out of your head.” Bess patted his arm. “Do you want a hug?”

An ache blossomed in his chest for the sweet embrace of his grandmother, like she used to do when he was just a boy. After Benjamin had died, followed not long after by his mother. The soft, warm, maternal embrace that made him feel like the world was all right again.

But grown men did not need such things.

“That’s unnecessary.”

“Maybe for you.” Bess pushed up on her cane. “But this old lady could do with a hug after learning she will no longer be receiving the great-grandchildren she’s been promised.” She shot him a pointed look, one meant to inspire guilt.

And blast it—she was successful.

“I’m still dying after all,” she added with a careless shrug.

“You absolutely are not.” With a sigh, Jasper went to his grandmother, and she wrapped her arms around him, filling his senses with that familiar rosemary scent of her. He relaxed into the embrace, taking comfort the way he’d done as a boy. “And thank God for it.”

She patted his back. “You just leave this to me.”

Jasper stiffened. “What do you mean by that?”

She released him, tutting as she readjusted herself upon her cane, a mischievous gleam in her eyes. “Never you mind. All will be well.”

“Bess.” There was a warning note to his tone. One she did not heed as she hobbled from the room. With purpose, damn it.