Chapter Twelve
Pacing her room, Jasmine nervously bit her lip. Of everyone in the entire house, it had to be her father who caught them! Not how she wanted it, but she got what she wanted—a fast way out of this house!
And poor Matthew.
She could only imagine what he was going through in her father’s study.
She took a jagged breath. All she could taste was wine and Matthew’s mouth. From her nightstand, Jasmine lifted a porcelain pitcher and poured water into a small glass. She took a sip, then dabbed the moisture from her lips with her fingertip.
‘I want you.’
When she closed her eyes, she saw Matthew’s hard body under hers, his hands on her thighs, and his mouth on her skin.
In that last kiss, he had teased her with his tongue and skillfully controlled her movements, as if he had all the time in the world.
Tender and sweet. As if it were their first kiss.
As if he loves me.
Her heart sank at the thought of him loving someone else.
But it didn’t matter what had happened in the past. If he kissed her like that, he cared.
No matter how wretched she felt about forcing his hand, at least the deed was done.
She pondered her next problem. How was she supposed to look her father in the eye ever again?
Papa had taken a hands-off approach in raising her, unless the situation truly called for it. Even in those rare cases, he mostly sided with her mother. After he finished with Matthew, would he go to Mother first, or Jasmine?
After what felt like an eternity, two sharp knocks sounded on her door.
Jasmine flinched when it creaked open, the noise shattering the silence of her room.
Papa entered alone. He still wore his suit from the soiree, though he had loosened his silver cravat.
With his face steeled into fine lines, he held his hand out, palm up.
“Give me the key.”
Jasmine’s cheeks burned. She retrieved the cellar key from her gloves and deposited it in his waiting hand.
Her eyes fell to the floor. “It’s not Matthew’s fault.”
“Yes, it is,” Papa said sternly. Then his tone softened. “It’s also yours.” He sat on the settee in her room and patted the seat next to him. “Come, daughter, talk to me. What drove you to this?”
Jasmine sat next to him. Unable to meet his gaze, she struggled with where to start. Her eyes burned. Her breath caught in her throat. It had all been so much. Her father’s kindness shattered her defenses. She tried to hold back her tears, but her words left her in shuddering sobs.
“You gave me a month, Papa! One month! You both tricked me! And Mother! She’s going to have me marry Don Lorenzo or Lord Rothwell. I want to marry Matthew—” she choked. “And he’s not on her list—”
“Such importance placed on a scrap of paper,” Papa ground out. He released a controlled breath before he continued, “Though you and your mother might disagree, I am the head of this family. I decide who you marry, not a list.” Firmly, he said, “Breathe.”
Jasmine shook on her inhale, releasing the breath as slowly as she could. She took another breath and watched her curtains fluttering in the breeze. After one last shaky exhale, she wiped her eyes.
Quietly, she asked, “Did Matthew ask for my hand?”
“Yes, he did.”
“Did you give it to him?”
“I did.”
“Thank you.” Smiling up at him, she whispered, “Will we marry soon?”
Papa shook his head.
“No.”
Jasmine’s jaw dropped.
“No? But we—”
“Lord Lincolnshire assured me there is no reason for a special license.” His grey eyes hardened. “Did he lie to me, daughter?”
Blushing, Jasmine shrank away from him and shook her head. “No, sir.”
“Then there’s no reason you can’t have a proper courtship.” Papa’s voice gentled. “Do you love him? Is that why you concocted this”—he coughed and averted his gaze—“elaborate setup?”
“I don’t know.” Jasmine groaned. “I care for him. I trust him. I know the family I’m marrying into. He’s a good man, he’ll be a good husband.”
“Are you sure?”
“Not you too.” Jasmine clenched her hands. “You know Matthew. You helped raise him.”
“Yes, and I know Matthew in ways that you do not,” Papa cradled her chin.
Ensuring he had her attention, he said, “He’s strong-willed and intelligent.
I’ve rarely seen another man exhibit control like his, especially during a debate.
He’s calculating, and doesn’t make decisions unless he’s thought them through. ”
“Those aren’t negative traits.”
“They can be. A man is capable of great wrongs if he thinks he’s right,” Papa warned. “Ask yourself, why was Matthew with you tonight?”
“Because we’re friends!” Exasperated, Jasmine huffed. “He went down there to talk to me. We’ve been arguing since I got back.”
“Another reason to take your time and get to know each other,” he said.
“I’ve explained my expectations to Lord Lincolnshire.
Tomorrow, he’ll ask for your mother’s permission to court you.
Together, we will work out a schedule, and after two weeks, he’ll propose.
After the banns are read, you’ll marry.”
“Banns?!” Jasmine’s heart plummeted. That could take months. Months of living under her mother’s roof, being dragged to event after event. And a full courtship?
So much wasted time.
“Those are Lord Lincolnshire’s rules.” Papa took one of her hands and held it in his. “If you still wish to marry him after those two weeks, I’ll allow you to be married by common license the next week.”
Three weeks. That wasn’t too bad.
“Thank you.” Jasmine smiled and squeezed his hand. “That’s reasonable.”
“Don’t thank me yet.” He held up a hand. “Until he proposes, I cannot reject your other offers of courtship, nor will I.”
Heat rose within her. “You’ll truly allow Lord Rothwell to court me again? And you don’t know Don Lorenzo at all! He’s intolerable!”
“To avert scandal,” he said directly, “I would ask courtship of any man who asks for your hand.” He tapped her chin until she looked at him. “Don’t look at this like a curse. I want to give you time to change your mind.”
Broken, Jasmine asked, “What if Matthew changes his mind?”
Papa smiled.
“If he’s the right man, he won’t.”