Page 12 of The Rake’s Convenient Bride

As soon as she spoke, the clack of footsteps sounded near the closed door.

“Wait,” he cautioned in a low voice.

But she was already walking forward. “I really should⁠—”

Her foot caught at the edge of the Brussels Weave carpet, and she pitched toward Jasper, upsetting an end table. He did not hesitate to reach out, catching her slender waist, keeping her upright as the small table hit the ground with an audible thud.

Elizabeth’s eyes locked on his and for the briefest of moments, she did not pull away, indulging him with the soft hint of a sweet, powdery scent. Lilacs, perhaps?

All at once, light exploded into the room as Jasper and Lady Elizabeth turned to find Lady Gentry and several other peers standing stock still in the open doorway, mouths agape.

Jasper hastily dropped his hands from Elizabeth’s waist, but not fast enough.

The damage had already been done.

3

Elizabeth stared in horror at Lady Gentry accompanied by Lady Whimbly and Lady Hasselton, notably the three most notorious gossips among the ton.

Lady Hasselton lifted her chin triumphantly, the wispy feather in her hair fluttering. “I told you I heard a sound.”

“What, pray tell, is happening here?” Lady Gentry demanded, her eyes boring into Elizabeth with what appeared to be blatant disappointment.

“I…I tripped,” Elizabeth stammered, her waist still tingling where Lord Darington had caught her, as if the heat of his palms had singed through her dress down to her very skin.

Lady Gentry lifted her brow and shared a skeptical glanced with her friends. “I believe I meant why the two of you are in the darkened study?”

“Oh.” Elizabeth swallowed. How was this to be explained away?

“I came in for something a bit stronger than lemonade,” Lord Darington answered honestly.

Lady Whimbly smirked. “I see you found it.”

And there it was, the implication Elizabeth knew the women had made. That anyone would make.

That a lover’s tryst had been interrupted between her and Lord Darington.

Such a thing ruined a young woman. Not only her, but also her family. Her sisters.

Grace.

If Elizabeth was ruined, Scorbridge could never propose to Grace. Elizabeth would be destroying not only her life, but also those of her sisters.

“Perhaps she’s trying to trap Lord Darington into marriage?” Lady Hasselton tittered into the wavering fronds of her feather fan.

That’s when the idea struck Elizabeth, one borne from a moment of desperation.

“I don’t have to trap him into marriage,” Elizabeth protested.

Three sets of eyebrows shot up.

Likely four, if Elizabeth had the temerity to look at Lord Darington. Which she did not.

God forgive her for what she was about to do, because Lord Darington likely never would.

Elizabeth squared her shoulders like a soldier preparing to step onto the battlefield. “We are already engaged.”

“You?” Lady Whimbly did not bother to mask her incredulity.