Page 6 of The Rake’s Convenient Bride

“Ever steady.” He flashed her a grin and poured a bit more tea.

“I see your cook hasn’t changed either.” She grimaced at the offerings on the pastry tray.

“I haven’t time to deal with such things.” Jasper considered a jam-filled pastry, wondering if it would be as bad. His stomach growled and he took a risk, biting gingerly. The jam was so tart, his eyes watered and he set the remainder aside.

Bess lowered herself to the sofa and regarded him with a raised brow. “Don’t act as if you enjoyed that.”

“Oh, it was entirely awful, but better than nothing.”

“Is it?” She looked toward the garden, blanketed in snow save for a few scraggly branches jutting out from the sea of white. “You know if you had a wife, she could see to such matters for you.”

Jasper lifted his cup of tea and sipped in an effort to stave off the chill in the room, sipping more carefully this time after having scalded his tongue earlier. He hummed in acknowledgment that she’d spoken, though he scarcely agreed.

“Word has it, you’ve been named the season’s most eligible bachelor.” Bess smiled proudly at him.

Jasper rolled his eyes. “Et tu, Brute?”

“Oh, do go on with your theatrics,” she chastised. “This is not the first time. How many times have you been named the most eligible bachelor? Three years? Four? Isn’t it about time you use that honor to find a bride?”

“Honor.” Jasper scoffed at the word. “And if I’m no longer a bachelor, I cannot continue to hold the title.” He set his teacup down. “I’m aiming for a ten-year streak. A decade has a nice ring to it, does it not?”

“It has a horrible ring to it.” Bess said with exasperation. “One that reverberates with the sad fact that my life is one without a single great-grandchild.”

Ah, this again. Jasper swallowed his impatient sigh more readily than he had the burning tea.

She reached for him. “Jasper, you have an obligation⁠—”

As soon as the word obligation was out of her mouth, she stopped, knowing she’d said the wrong thing.

Heat flared in Jasper’s cheeks. He set his teacup down, minding not to do so with too much force. She hadn’t meant that word.

“I’m sorry,” she said softly.

He nodded, his shoulders relaxing. And she was sorry. She knew what that word meant to him, how deeply it cut into wounds that would never heal.

This obligation never should have been his. Benjamin should have been earl, the way his parents had wanted. Father never thought Jasper was worthy of the role.

“Jasper,” Bess said softly. “I’m dying.”

His head jerked toward her in shock. In this entire world, she was the only person who cared for him. The only person who had ever bloody well cared about him.

His mother had seen him as a playmate for his brother, a guardian. His father saw him simply as the spare heir should anything happen to his oldest son. And Benjamin only ever saw him as a nuisance.

Having Bess retire to the country had been hard enough; to know Jasper might only see her once a year, if that. He’d come to rely on her counsel in years past.

When he’d been a boy, he’d given his love and trust freely and without restraint. Both had been crushed. In the years he’d known her, Bess was the only person he knew he could trust with his thoughts and his heart.

Imagining a life without her was a cold, stark world indeed.

He narrowed his eyes, assessing her appearance for signs of illness.

Her dark eyes were clear and sharp as ever, a healthy flush tinged her cheeks, and she looked as though she’d put on a bit more weight lately, padding her otherwise too-thin frame.

The realization suddenly occurred to him: she was lying.

He turned his head, gazing askance at her. “You are not dying.”

She tsked. “Of course I am, I’m old.”