Chapter Four
Until her forced nuptials, Jasmine still had choices, and this morning she chose to call upon the Coopers. She had spent the entire journey from Spain looking forward to the Saturday morning breakfast with the family.
As an only child, Jasmine often wished she had been born into Cassandra’s family instead. Quirky and unapologetically themselves, they were accepting and loving. She had missed them so much that their absence became a physical ache.
None more painful than Matthew.
And as loath as she was to admit it, there was fire between them. Did he feel it too? Even now she felt the ghost of his hands on her and heard his deep and sensuous whispers, dripping with promise.
What irritated her most was that he had been right—no one else had asked her to dance. For the rest of the night, she had the foreign, pleasant experience of being a wallflower.
Maybe he cared.
And perhaps he had a good reason for not writing to her.
Maybe all of his letters got lost in the post. Or fell into the sea!
Or maybe—she sighed. Maybe last night was an act, like her mother said.
Ooh, her head was swimming with questions, and there was no better time to find the answers than this morning.
Helped from the carriage by a footman, Jasmine squinted in the morning sun. Though the day was sunny, the air was cold and damp. The moisture in the air stuck to her skin and weighed down her dress. She longed for the warmth of Spain, even as she yearned for those behind this very door.
If only I could reconcile the two.
Cassandra’s Mayfair house was a brick home, built like a fortress.
Intimidating from the outside. As Jasmine ascended the few steps to the home, Mr. Davis opened the door.
A frail man in his sixties, Mr. Davis had been the Coopers’ butler for her entire life.
Momentarily taken aback to see him at Cassandra’s townhouse and not Matthew’s, she greeted him.
“Good morning, Mr. Davis!”
“Welcome home, Lady Jasmine.” He smiled warmly and bowed. “The family is having breakfast, would you like me to show you to the dining room?”
“Not necessary,” Jasmine chirped. “I remember the way.”
She walked through the door and stepped into a haven of blooms. Bouquets of hyacinths, white roses, and blue violets abounded in every corner. Light from every open window illuminated sky-blue painted walls and high ceilings. Warm and welcoming, far from the coolness of her father’s mansion.
As she approached, laughter spilled from the breakfast room. Heart beating a nervous rhythm, she stepped closer. As she turned the corner, a brown-haired little girl wearing a pink dress ran from the room with a high-pitched series of giggles.
At her heels was Matthew. In two strides, he scooped her in his arms and said, “Not so fast, you little rascal.”
Dressed casually, he had gone without his top jacket. His rolled shirtsleeves gave her a generous view of his arms. His muscles flexed as he tossed the girl high in the air, then brought her down to rub his nose against hers.
And deep within Jasmine, a primal longing cried out for something she didn’t have a name for.
This was the Matthew she remembered. Carefree and unguarded, his trademark grin tilted high on the right side of his face, showing brilliant white teeth.
Not noticing her, he continued to tickle the girl, digging his fingers into her sides until the child burst with laughter.
With her wild curls and grin, she looked just like him.
Wait.
She wasn’t his—was she?
Oh, goodness! She hadn’t stopped to consider that he might be married, that he might have moved on! Even though Cassandra had seldom written about Matthew, she would have mentioned if he had a child… wouldn’t she?
“Who is that?”
The girl hid her face in Matthew’s shoulder, and his eyes shifted to meet Jasmine’s. Their gazes locked, and a thousand expressions crossed his face before he gave her a sweet, lazy smile. The longing sensation only sank deeper.
Was this what she could have had?
“Dear-one, this is Lady Jasmine. We’ve talked about her, remember? From the portrait?” Leaning his head against the girl’s, he asked, “Will you say hello?”
The girl peeked her head over Matthew’s shoulder to study Jasmine suspiciously before hiding her face again. “No!”
Matthew smiled apologetically and gave Jasmine a one-shoulder shrug. “She’s not normally shy. She’s tired.”
Jasmine paused, searching for the words before she blurted out, “Is she yours?”
Matthew smirked and kissed the top of the child’s head. “Her mother is just inside.”
She was intruding! Her face burned. If she had any sense at all, she would turn around, march right back where she came from and—
“Brother,” a feminine voice called from the breakfast room. “Invite Jasmine inside.” Cassandra appeared at the door. “And give me my child.”
She was his niece!
Of course! She was Rose, Cassandra’s daughter! Inexplicable relief flooded her at the thought, then pure exhilaration at seeing the woman in the doorway.
Jasmine launched herself into Cassandra’s open arms, pulling her in for a firm hug.
Cassandra smelled of lavender and carried a domestic grace that Jasmine could never hope to emulate.
Her curly brown hair broke free of her pins, but the rest of her was neat and well-manicured.
In a powder-blue morning gown, she looked maternal.
She was petite and slight like Caroline, but her face appeared rounder than Jasmine remembered.
“Oh, I’ve missed you.” Cassandra started sniffling. “I thought I lost you forever.”
“I’m home, Cassandra.” Jasmine’s eyes misted, and she squeezed her tightly. “Be prepared to tire of me, I’m not letting you out of my sight.”
“Don’t squeeze too hard.” A man with black hair and vibrant blue eyes came forward. Seth Reeves, Cassandra’s husband. Dressed similarly to Matthew, his rolled sleeves showed aggressive scarring on his arms. An unfashionable—but impressive—beard covered his face.
“Don’t worry about Cassandra, she’s not so fragile.” Jasmine wiped her eyes. With a wink, she said, “I’ve toppled her to the ground before.”
“Don’t do it today, she’s fragile enough.” Seth took Rose from Matthew and placed her on the floor behind him. Arms free, he gave Jasmine a side-hug. “Welcome home. How was Spain?”
“She’s not telling anyone about Spain without me in the room!” Caroline appeared in the doorway. Her hair still had pearl powder in it from the night before. “Everyone can stop talking in the hallway and come inside!”
Caroline grabbed Jasmine’s arm and hauled her into the dining room.
The aroma of an English breakfast wafted from overflowing plates of eggs, ham, and sausage.
Muffins and half-eaten scones covered in jam and cream smothered an oversized table.
Wispy steam rose from the plethora of teacups and teapots.
“What about me?” A teenage boy with a mop of brown hair threw his arms around her. Jasmine grinned and returned the hug.
“Trevor!” She separated from him and held him at arm’s length. “You’re huge!”
Cassandra and Seth’s adopted son had grown at least two feet in her absence! No longer a scrawny boy, Trevor towered over her.
Time had moved right on without her, but as if she hadn’t been gone longer than a week, the house welcomed her.
Caroline took a seat at the table—and was that Adrian Hollingsworth, Lord Blackmoor, seated to the left of her?
Black-haired, broad, and dressed in all black, his ice-blue eyes lowered the temperature of the room when they met hers.
He gave her a short, dignified nod, and she imagined that was him being friendly.
Scanning the room, Jasmine was surprised to see Honora, Lady Worthing. A severe woman of an age with Jasmine and Cassandra, but one she had never been close to. She greeted her with a polite smile. “Welcome back to London, Lady Jasmine.”
Rose rushed under the table to play with another child—a blond boy about her age—who could only be Lady Worthing’s son, George.
Next to Lady Worthing stood a fawn-like younger gentleman dressed in a tan suit. Matthew’s and Seth’s business partner, Mr. Ezekiel Sanderson, greeted her. “Lady Jasmine! What a lovely surprise! I was just telling Lord Lincolnshire we’ve been needing some excitement around here.”
Jasmine laughed and gestured to the room at large. “What could be more exciting than this?”
“Having a full stomach,” Cassandra said, and pushed her to the sideboard.
Matthew took his seat at the head of the table and read the paper.
Seth helped Cassandra into her chair before taking the seat opposite Matthew.
Conversations paused by her appearance resumed.
Mr. Sanderson spoke to Seth, bringing him up to speed on the new improvements to the gun factory.
The children laughed as they played under the table.
Cassandra’s soothing tones were met by Lady Worthing’s clipped, but respectful replies.
Trevor shoveled eggs into his mouth. Between bites, he relayed gossip from Lincolnshire across the table to Caroline.
The chaos of clinking flatware and the chatter of cross-table conversation drowned away all of Jasmine’s thoughts, allowing her to just be.
There was no pressure here to be anything other than who she was, and to enjoy the multitude of food.
Helping herself, Jasmine plated blueberry scones and apple tarts.
When she sat in the empty seat between Cassandra and Caroline, Cassandra had already prepared Jasmine’s tea just the way she liked it. Strong, sweetened with sugar and a splash of cream. She took a sip. Warmed from the inside out, Jasmine relaxed her shoulders and smiled at Cassandra.
“Thank you.”
Cassandra’s lips lifted. “It’s wonderful to have everyone around the table again.”
“It’s been so quiet without Cassandra’s wing here,” Caroline chimed in. “With you here, it’s like having the whole family back! When did you arrive?”
“Thursday morning,” Jasmine said.