Chapter Seven
Blood boiling, Matthew hissed, “Is something wrong with your eyes? I am with my family, Vivian.”
“When did Cassandra return?” Vivian cooed. “She looks lovely, a tad plump, but Caroline’s becoming quite the beauty. I might call upon them for tea.”
“Don’t bother. We have plans this evening.”
“Yes, the Dorchester soirée.” Politeness forgone, she glared at him from the corner of her eye. “My invitation was rescinded this morning. Now I see why.”
Vivian held her head high and shifted her parasol in subtle ways to block his face completely, especially when they passed by someone she knew.
Matthew scoffed.
Still the same old song and dance.
Her steps were steady, gliding across the gravel soundlessly—as if they walked through the park together all the time.
But under her bonnet, she clenched her jaw, and her cheeks strained to keep her smile up.
She held her reticule tight in her other hand.
The black silk bag scrunched under her fingers.
Of her many emotions, fury was his least favorite and the most time-consuming. He had a thousand tasks before he could return to Mayfair and ready himself for tonight. He didn’t have time for a full Vivian-scale explosion. He opened his watch and made a show of reading the time.
“You have five minutes to say whatever it is you need to say, Vivian,” he said, as if beginning a business negotiation. “You came by my factory, you’re stalking me through the park. All that effort for small talk?”
Her entire body tensed. Her parasol shook as she roughly yanked open her reticule. She reached inside the bag, brought forth a folded piece of paper, then shoved it into his chest. Lip curled, she hissed, “You made the headlines.”
He took the paper and read the contents. The article was from this morning. He was too busy arguing with Jasmine to read anything properly. Not that he wasted time on drivel like the gossip sheet.
Old Friends… or Old Flames?
The mysterious phoenix who drew Lord Lincolnshire into a flight of fancy at Duke Kendall’s masquerade ball was unmasked to be none other than Lady Jasmine, the prodigal daughter of the Marquess of Dorchester.
Eager to reunite with each other after a long separation, the Spanish Rose and the London Rake scorched a trail through the ballroom floor.
Dance after dance, the pair appeared ready to ravish each other.
Which leads to the question: are these two old friends or old flames? Coming off a rumored split from a not-so-secret affair with a certain widow, Lord Lincolnshire has made his intentions known—he’s trading age for beauty. Move aside, lady-ravens, there’s a new bird in town.
“Ah, yes,” Matthew said. “It would be spite and jealousy that would make you come to me.”
Her face contorted, eyebrows forming a nasty line. “You’ve humiliated me.”
“I don’t see how.” He shrugged. “I didn’t write this. You should read what they write about me.”
He crumpled the paper into a ball and threw it into a rubbish bin as they walked.
Vivian’s bottom lip jutted out in a pout. “I knew you were angry, but you’ve taken it too far. If you’re doing this to hurt me, you’ve succeeded.”
Sniffling, moisture collected in her eyes, but he had seen her crocodile tears too many times to fall for it. He saw her for who she truly was now. She weaponized her emotions to manipulate him and keep him in her thrall. He had fallen for it repeatedly, but never again.
“My relationship with Jasmine has nothing to do with you.”
“Two days and it’s a relationship?” she seethed. “How long have you been planning this? You’re going to walk out on me—the only woman who has satisfied your every request, listened to you cry like a baby. All thrown away the moment she steps off a ship? You’ve played me for a fool.”
“Played you?” He gritted his teeth and struggled to keep his voice low. “Need I remind you who hurt who?” He inhaled sharply. “My mind hasn’t changed since our argument.”
It had been a screaming match, loud enough to shake the walls. Loud enough to knock some sense into him.
“You overreacted, but I forgive you,” she said. “We both said things we didn’t mean.”
“I meant everything I said,” he corrected. “Especially the part where I said we’re finished.”
“We do this all the time.”
“Not anymore.”
Ahead on the path, a large group of people passed by. He waited until they were far enough away before he spoke.
“I was faithful to you, per our agreement. I expected the same. You want to explore your options? I wish you the best of luck.” His eyes narrowed. “But I refuse to be your toy while you search for a ‘reputable’ husband.”
“You’re a hypocrite,” she bit out. “You’re using that as an excuse. This is all because of her. Lady Jasmine.” She met his eyes and said pointedly, “She looks like me, Matthew.”
“No,” he said slowly. “You look like her.”
Acid dripped from Vivian’s next words. “Does she know what you do to women who look like her?”
Matthew shot her a grin and made a promise to himself. “She will.”
Her voice rose. “If she’s so perfect, where has she been these last few years? She tried out an entire country, and you think she’s come back to settle for you?”
He flinched. Vivian always knew how to cut him to the quick. And maybe he wasn’t good enough for Jasmine, but that hardly mattered anymore.
“I’ve had her father’s blessing since the day she was born,” he said. “I’m marrying her as soon as I’m able.”
Vivian froze in the middle of the road—her breath shuddered, her shoulders stiffened, and she snapped her gaze to his.
“How dare you?” Her nostrils flared. “Do you honestly believe that she’ll want anything to do with you when she finds out about your depravities?”
“We’ll see.” He gave a shrug and a simple, “I’m sure I’ll have no problem pleasing her once she’s my wife. I suppose I have you to thank for that—”
Vivian dropped her parasol, then slapped him across the face. The strike landed high on his cheekbone, leaving a scathing rush of pain and heat. With a sneer that could have turned a lesser man into stone, she spat, “Go to hell, Matthew.”
Murmurs and whispers filled the park. Haughty and proud, Vivian collected her parasol and raised it once more.
The back of Matthew’s neck burned, and he tensed with the restraint of keeping his expression neutral.
She wanted him to shout, to apologize, to beg her to come back to him.
She craved an emotional response, but he was through with satisfying her.
He stood tall, adjusted his coat and centered his hat. He opened his watch, eyes lingering on Jasmine’s portrait before closing it with a snap. “Your time is up. Goodbye, Lady Ravenshaw.”
Matthew didn’t spare another glance at her as he walked away. A gut-wrenching tension coiled in his stomach. Vivian had only ever seen the worst in him.
But there was good in him too.
He had failed to win Jasmine’s heart before, but this time would be different. No longer was he a green lad who didn’t know the first thing about seducing women. He had changed, and he could change further, for her. Be the man she deserved.
Jasmine had been ready to climb a tree and sing a song with him.
She leaned in to him when she passed someone she knew.
Her mouth had parted when he whispered in her ear, and her cheeks had flushed as he teased her, even that small amount.
With a little more coaxing, he could have kissed her in the middle of the park.
It didn’t matter what had happened in the past. She was attracted to him now.
That was at least a start.
He was through with playing around and wasting time.
He would marry her.
I’ll speak to her father tonight.
***
Jasmine’s foot tapped a steady rhythm on the hardwood floor of Cassandra’s sitting room, and she pulled at the tip of her glove, as Matthew had done before he walked away with another woman.
Cassandra entered the room and gave her a soft smile.
“I’m having the carriage brought around,” she said. “Are you sure you don’t wish to stay?”
“I’ve stayed long enough.” Jasmine looked down at her hands and gave a self-deprecating laugh. “If I stay any longer, I’ll wear out my welcome.”
Cassandra sat next to her on the settee, reached for Jasmine’s hands.
“You are always welcome here. If I have to ban Matthew from my home because he’s being a lack-wit, I will.”
“He’s changed so much,” Jasmine whispered.
Her words escaped her in a rush. “Everything is so different. I don’t belong here, Cassandra.
You’ve all moved on, and here I am to ruin it all.
I know where I stand with you and Caroline, but Matthew.
...” She dropped her gaze to her lap. “Maybe he’s right. Maybe I should have stayed away.”
Frowning, Cassandra raised her hand, then sharply flicked the center of Jasmine’s forehead.
“Ouch!” Jasmine rubbed her brow, wincing at the sting.
“That’s enough.” Voice serious, Cassandra said, “I don’t know where you learned self-loathing, but I won’t tolerate it. You belong here, Jasmine. Do you hear me?”
Jasmine swallowed hard and nodded. Her voice caught in her throat, and tears gathered in her eyes. All she wanted to do was curl up in Cassandra’s lap and weep.
Cassandra sat cross-legged on the settee. “There are certain things you won’t wish to know, but we’ve always been honest with each other. I know it’s bothering you. Ask.”
The questions that had haunted her spilled out of her. “Who was that woman in the park? Who is she to Matthew?”
“Lady Ravenshaw.” Cassandra sighed and spoke the words Jasmine feared. “His previous paramour.”
Jasmine’s voice came out hollow. “Matthew kept a mistress?”
“Not in the way you’re thinking. It was more of an involvement?” Cassandra cringed.
Coldness seized Jasmine’s heart, and she forced out, “How long were they involved?”
“I don’t know when it started, but it was never consistent,” Cassandra admitted. “At one point, it looked like they might be serious, and then the next day it was over.”
Afraid of the answer, Jasmine whispered, “Is it still over?”
The clock ticked on the mantel as Jasmine waited for Cassandra’s quiet answer.
“I’m not sure.”
Then, she asked the only question that mattered. “Did he invite her over for breakfast?”
Cassandra pursed her lips and looked away.
“Oh, God, he did.” Jasmine squeezed her eyes closed, fighting the knot in her stomach and the crushing pressure on her chest. Something so small shouldn’t hurt this much.
She held Cassandra’s hands and fought with her internal image of Lady Ravenshaw sitting at the breakfast table, as part of the family.
She took the seat that Jasmine should have had all along—had she not been so na?ve!
Now it was Jasmine taking Lady Ravenshaw’s seat.
The worst decision she ever made was leaving London. Curse it all! But she had tried, and he had pushed her away! After his trial, Jasmine knocked on his door every day, and he never answered. One day he did answer, only to tell her to stop.
Then he never answered the door again.
She ran away to an entirely different country, and he opened the door for someone else.
Cassandra’s somber expression only deepened her heartache.
“I’ll admit I liked her, at first. She was charming, she knew just what to say at just the right time.
But, there was always something not quite right.
You know when your instinct bristles? From what I understand, she was cruel to him.
” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “They were cruel to each other.”
“Why did he tolerate it?”
“He’s lonely, Jasmine.”
“She looks like me,” Jasmine whispered.
Cassandra sighed. “An observation that has escaped no one.”
“You must tell me—“
“No, I won’t,” Cassandra interrupted sternly.
“You’re my friend, and he’s my brother. Now I finally understand how he must have felt about Seth.
” Cassandra gave her a hug. “If you have a question about his feelings, ask him. I’ll support either of you with whatever you wish to do, but I won’t interfere.
I won’t betray your feelings, and I won’t betray his.
” Cassandra leaned back and gave her a rueful smile.
“And to be fair, he seldom shares them with me these days.”
Mr. Davis gently knocked on the doorframe. “The carriage is ready, Lady Jasmine.”
Her heart sank, but Jasmine gave Cassandra another crushing hug. “Thank you for being such a wonderful friend. I know I’m putting you in a tough position with your brother.”
“You aren’t. I’m on your side.” Cassandra’s eyes lit up with a mischievous twinkle. “Talk to him tonight. And if he hurts you again, you come to me straight away. I’ll wallop him for you.”
Jasmine smiled. “You’re too good to me, Cassandra.”
Cassandra shrugged.
“I’ve always liked you more.”