Chapter Eight #2
“It is important,” Cassandra agreed.
“Not in Spain,” Aunt Valentine finished.
It was a tired argument. Their parents would certainly have arranged the match if not for the fervent and repeated refusal of both Jasmine and Matthew.
Cassandra could only imagine the utter chaos of such a marriage.
Both were ceaselessly energetic and impulsive, delving headfirst into new projects and adventures.
There wouldn’t be a peaceful moment in their home.
Jasmine made a face. “He’s like my brother.”
“And yet there is no blood relation, which is more than what half of the peerage can say.”
Cassandra took the paper from Jasmine, lightly as to not disturb the glaring competition occurring between the ladies, and her chest tightened, coiling with a cool numbness as she read aloud the last name on the list.
“Mr. Seth Reeves?”
Aunt Valentine broke from Jasmine’s glare and turned to them with a serious expression.
“It would be foolish not to consider him.” Aunt Valentine took her list from Cassandra and used her plate to weigh it down on the table.
“If they win this contest, your brother and Mr. Reeves will be the most eligible bachelors in all of Britain. Of course, prior to the signing of any marriage contracts, the rumors concerning him being the Earl’s bastard would need to be addressed. ”
“Mama!” Jasmine hissed.
The occupants of the table next to theirs side-eyed them, and a few ladies clucked in indignation.
Aunt Valentine tsked.
“Let them listen, they all want to know.” She turned to Cassandra. “Is it true?”
Cassandra looked between Mr. Reeves and Lord Bolderwood.
She couldn’t imagine such a man losing himself to passion, but what did she know of men?
It wasn’t uncommon for gentlemen to have affairs that resulted in children.
For all she knew, even Matthew could have a bastard or two toddling about in some countryside.
Was there a resemblance? Mr. Reeves had broad shoulders, but a lean definition to his frame, where Lord Bolderwood was burly and stout.
With his son Adrian, there was no question of legitimacy.
Mr. Reeves possessed the same black hair, but it wasn’t as if that were a rare trait.
And yet… all three men had identical midnight eyes, and their faces were all schooled in the same manner.
Not bored, not commanding, but disciplined.
The face of a soldier.
Mr. Reeves was certainly familiar enough with the manor, and entirely too comfortable walking the halls disheveled and dirty.
He wore new clothes clearly tailored to him, though she had never seen them before.
He arrived on horseback with a key and a rucksack, as comfortable as a man returning home from a fishing trip.
“This is my bedchamber.”
Cassandra’s mouth opened and closed a few times before sound came out.
“I’m not sure.”
“Can you find out?” Aunt Valentine asked.
“I can try,” Cassandra said tentatively.
The crowd began their return to their seats as Mr. Edgars took to the podium to prepare for the beginning of the competition.
Matthew gave Mr. Reeves a pat on the back and turned to walk in their direction.
Mr. Reeves rolled his shoulders and stretched them back before relaxing his posture and settling into position.
He looked at home.
Then again, Cassandra thought, I suppose he is.
“If any of his blood is blue, we can work with it,” Aunt Valentine continued.
“He’s quite attractive.” Jasmine leaned forward with her elbows on the table and dreamily ogled Mr. Reeves.
“Until he opens his mouth.” Cassandra rolled her eyes. “He’s sarcastic, and that is not an attractive trait.”
“I disagree.” Jasmine grinned, not moving her eyes from Mr. Reeves. “I appreciate a man that can keep Mama on her toes in conversation. And that dance! Even if he counts his steps, he’s still graceful. A man of many talents. I doubt that I would tire of him.”
“But he’s a commoner,” Cassandra’s voice wavered. It would be unheard of for the daughter of a marquess to marry a commoner, and downright scandalous for one to marry a bastard.
“Doesn’t bother me. Mama wasn’t a noblewoman until Papa married her.” Jasmine shrugged. “I would still retain my title.”
“What about generational wealth?”
“Five thousand pounds can be generational wealth if I’m the one managing it, Cassandra.” Jasmine laughed. “If not, I have plenty of money from my inheritance. No matter what, I will build some sort of empire with it.”
“Good girl.” Aunt Valentine smiled in her first outward show of approval.
The idea of Jasmine pursuing Mr. Reeves left a strange taste in Cassandra’s mouth. If Jasmine were to fall in love with him… would she be godmother to their children?
“Is he kind?” Aunt Valentine asked in a maternal tone that made Cassandra’s heart ache for her own mother. She pushed her grief down and contemplated her answer.
Mr. Reeves was holding her diary page hostage, and he thought it was a love letter of all things, but he was honoring his side of the bargain.
She knew he hadn’t read it, because if he had, he wouldn’t be able to keep it to himself.
And where would that leave her other than humiliated and heartbroken?
She would never be able to look him in the eye again.
But, a memory came to the forefront of her mind of Mr. Reeves patiently explaining the principles of flight to Caroline, as simple as if instructing her on how to put butter on toast. A folded parchment in the shape of a triangle twirled around them in the air before landing on Cassandra’s eggs.
Caroline, who never once cared for science, understood the lesson and the next time the paper took flight, it landed in Mr. Reeves’ open palms.
He never seemed to lose his patience, even if he had come close at dinner the night before.
Without a second thought, he prioritized her safety over his financial needs, climbing a tree for her on a day that would determine his entire future.
Could she say that she would have done the same?
He counted the steps for her benefit as they danced, mouth moving to the beat of the music.
Instead of becoming frustrated that she didn’t know what she was doing, as another gentleman may have, Mr. Reeves carefully corrected her with gentle fingertips, running them along her spine, and she could feel the sensation coursing through her, still.
“I’m enjoying myself immensely.”
“I’ve never known him to be unkind.”
Matthew took an empty chair from a neighboring table and settled in close to Aunt Valentine.
“Thank God you women eat like birds,” Matthew said, grabbing the last two tomato sandwiches from the bottom tier of the tea-tray.
“I am famished. Reeves had me awake before dawn, demanding we recheck the rifle’s calibrations, check for signs of tampering, clean the rifle, clean it again.
After truing the aim twice, I had to stop him.
He’s been more than thorough, if something goes wrong it is an act of God. ”
Matthew ate his first sandwich in one bite.
“Can you chew your food?” Cassandra crinkled her nose.
Matthew ignored her and reached for the list under Aunt Valentine’s teacup.
“What is this? More secrets?” She snatched it away from his grasp.
Matthew met Cassandra’s eyes and took a deliberate bite of his second sandwich, slowly chewing for effect before drinking an entire cup of tea in one swallow.
“Nothing for you to worry over,” Aunt Valentine said.
“It’s always worrisome whenever my name is on a list of matrimonial prospects.” He turned to Jasmine. “And you, Lady Jasmine! You certainly know how to hurt a man’s pride! Perhaps you can say louder that you won’t be marrying me, I don’t think they heard you in France.”
Jasmine gathered air into her lungs as one would do before yelling and Aunt Valentine slapped her on the wrist with her closed fan.
“I thought you would be in the range competition.” Jasmine rubbed her wrist with a wince and reached for a pink macaron at the top of the tea tower before Matthew could get to them. “Why hand it off to your ruffian friend?”
Matthew finished the other half of his sandwich and grabbed the last scone, flashing Jasmine a brilliant smile.
“Because I want to win.”
With all contestants in their places, range clear of spectators, Mr. Edgars projected his voice, “As this is a competition of range and accuracy, the winner of this round will be determined by who can consistently hit the center of their target. Use of accompaniments are allowed and encouraged. We will increase target distance in increments of twenty-five yards. If you fail to hit the center of your target at any point, you will be disqualified and lose this round. To start, the targets are set at one hundred yards. Fire on my whistle.”
Following the shrill whistle, the noise of the first set of rounds reverberated throughout the forest, causing birds in the nearby trees to take flight with a cacophony of shrieks.
A commotion occurred as Lady Honora swooned directly into the lap of Lord Worthing, almost knocking him from his chair.
“Cross Lord Worthing off the list,” Cassandra said to Aunt Valentine.
“Mr. Lancaster, too,” Jasmine added. “Lord Worthing will have an heir in nine months, I’ll bet money on it.”
“I’ll take that bet,” Matthew said.
“No, he won’t.” Cassandra scowled.
“Colonel Bishop seems to be a good shot,” Jasmine commented as they brought back the one-hundred yard targets for inspection, each with a perfect bullseye.
“One hundred yards is nothing, Lady Jasmine,” Matthew drawled. “A child could hit a target like that with a rock. Bishop is going to fall flat on his face by the end of this competition. I hope he breaks his nose, it would save me the effort of doing it myself.”
“Why do you disapprove so much?” Jasmine reached her hand for the final macaron on the top of the tea tray.
“I have my reasons.” Matthew snatched the macaron before Jasmine could and plopped it into his mouth whole, cheeks puffed out as he chewed.
“Matthew disapproves of everyone.” Cassandra glared at her brother. “If it were up to him, I’d never marry at all. He wants me to be a spinster at Cooper House forever.”
“That’s not true at all,” Matthew said through his full mouth. “I cannot wait for you to be married. Then you’ll be able to chaperon Caroline through her first season and leave me out of it completely. I would recommend putting her on some sort of leash.”
Cassandra extended her hand palm up, presenting her brother. “Pure and selfless, worthy of sainthood.”
Aunt Valentine pressed her thumb into the space between her eyebrows as Jasmine grinned.
Round after round, all three contestants matched each other shot for shot.
As the competition waged, an argument formed between Mr. Reeves and Colonel Bishop.
Their voices were inaudible, but the two men stared each other down the same way they had at dinner before they settled in position.
The tension building between Mr. Reeves and Colonel Bishop spiked with the targets at three hundred yards, and then snapped.
Colonel Bishop made a comment and Mr. Reeves’ face fell into a snarl, fists at his sides and eyes narrowed at the other man, who had a confident smirk on his face.
Mr. Reeves kept his gaze locked on his opponent and lifted his hand, thrusting his open palm into the space between them.
Colonel Bishop wasted no time in gripping Mr. Reeves’ hand in his own with one forceful shake.
“Would you look at that! True sportsmen.” Matthew’s eyes shot daggers at Colonel Bishop. “At least they’re being friendly.”
A sense of unease came over Cassandra at the sight.
It didn’t look like a friendly handshake to her at all.
It looked like a deal.