Chapter Thirteen
Sunday luncheon at the Sinclair Mansion was normally a small affair.
Today, Jasmine may as well have been at the Epsom Derby.
On the back lawn, a white and green striped canopy protected hundreds of guests from the midday sun.
High-society members in their Sunday best mingled with foreign guests.
They sat at round tables, sampled finger food, and conversed over tea.
Jasmine picked at a buttered roll, hoping the bread would absorb the wine left over in her stomach from the night before. The wailing of the string quartet aggravated a dull throbbing in her left temple. Even so, she strained to hear Matthew’s voice over the crowd.
Dashing in a charcoal suit, he appeared promptly after church, holding a bouquet of pink roses for Jasmine in one hand, and white tulips for Mother in the other.
Mildly appeased, Mother took the flowers for the white flag they were, and ushered him to a table on the opposite side of the lawn—in full view of the guests.
Jasmine’s eyes kept darting to her parents, trying to gauge their reactions, but she could hardly see them through the crowd.
Near the edge of the canopy, Jasmine visited with Cassandra and Caroline while they waited for Matthew to finish.
Cassandra sat with the full confidence of a society matron, shielding both debutantes from unwanted company.
That morning, Cassandra had offered her congratulations, her support, and her understanding.
“Do you two know… everything?” Jasmine grimaced. “About last night?”
“Oh, yes,” Caroline chirped. “A self-locking door! What terrible luck, and at such an inopportune time. I would love to hear your side of the story.”
“Be quiet,” Cassandra hissed. “This needs to be a respectable courtship.”
“Coming from you.” Caroline laughed. “How did your nuptials come about, Mrs. Storage Closet?”
Cassandra blushed a vibrant red. “We should be respectable in public.”
“You don’t do that either.” Caroline turned to Jasmine with a mischievous smirk. “The last time they were in London, Cassandra and Seth landed in the society pages three times for indecency.”
“This is about Jasmine.” She pulled Caroline in and whispered, “If there’s any further sense of impropriety, they won’t let me chaperone.” Cassandra looked around the crowd and told Jasmine, “I’ll do what I can to get you away from here.”
Caroline glanced around. “Are these people here all the time?”
“Most of them, yes. We’re hosting them,” Jasmine said. “Can’t walk five steps without bumping into someone.”
“For how long?” Caroline asked.
“Another two weeks,” Jasmine grumbled.
This morning she could barely move because of the sheer number of people in the halls. Including Don Lorenzo. Even he wouldn’t be so bold to accost her on a Sunday, but starting tomorrow he would begin his chase in earnest.
“Perhaps we can find a gentleman for me as well,” Caroline said. “If Matthew is busy courting you, he won’t have time to get in my way.”
Across the lawn, Matthew stood and bowed to Jasmine’s parents.
Mother merely smiled, took Papa’s arm, and directed him to another set of guests.
Matthew kept his face neutral as he maneuvered through the tables to reach them.
But the corners of his lips lifted with each step closer.
With a wide grin, he skipped his last two steps.
He bowed to them but remained standing.
Heart thumping, Jasmine asked, “What did they say?”
“The good news is I’ve been given official permission to court you.” Matthew’s grin faltered with his next words. “The bad news is that I have strict rules.”
“Which are?”
“I can’t fill your social calendar. I’m allowed to call once a week, and two personal outings—one tomorrow, and the other next Tuesday.” At Jasmine’s downturned expression, Matthew said, “We get both Saturday mornings, as long as you’re home right after.”
“At least there’s that.” Jasmine sighed. “What else?”
“Whenever we’re at the same ball, we’re allowed one dance per evening, and brief conversations. I’ll secure an invitation to every event you attend. You’ll see me every day.”
“Along with everyone else,” she said.
On the other side of the lawn, Lord Rothwell and Don Lorenzo sat at the same table. Leaning close to each other, they spoke in hushed tones—having a strategy meeting of their own. After following her gaze, Matthew glowered at the men.
“Don’t concern yourself with them. I’ll do what I can to get them to drop their pursuit.” He looked into her eyes. “I’ll be respectful in my courtship, Lady Jasmine, but I will not be subtle. You’re to be my wife. I’ll be by your side when I can.”
The masculine edge in his voice caused a fluttering within her—then, she remembered his sisters were right next to them. Cheeks warming, she took a sip of her tea to hide her smile. “Don’t you need to work?”
“Thanks to you, my work will bring me here this week.” Matthew grinned. “General Ortiz has requested a meeting.”
Jasmine raised a brow. “Why is that thanks to me?”
“Every life lost is a tragedy,” Matthew repeated.
“He was moved by your speech! He has a block of time available on Thursday, and your father has offered the use of his studies for our conversation,” he said with an optimistic tilt to his voice.
“Nothing at the factory needs my full attention. Seth can take over for me. It’s the least he can do. ”
Cassandra huffed.
“And Cassandra promised she would chaperone. Which has been approved, by the way,” Matthew directed the comment to his sister. “And I’ll only need her presence a few times, unlike the months of chaperoning I had to do for her.”
“I already said I would do it.” Cassandra huffed. She turned to Jasmine. “When I’m not chaperoning, I’ll visit—with Rose.” She gave a conspiratorial smile. “And the baby is quickening. If I can get Aunt Valentine to feel it once, she’ll want me here every day.”
“Everyone thinks Cassandra is the innocent one.” Caroline giggled and matched her sister’s tone.
“I’ll be here looking for a husband. Matthew will be busy, and poor Lady Worthing has run herself ragged chaperoning me lately.
I’ll need a more dedicated match-maker. Do you think Aunt Valentine will be up to the task? ”
Jasmine shifted her gaze from each sibling. They smiled at her with identical, determined amber-brown eyes. Feeling lighter, she laughed.
“Thank you, all of you.”
“You’re going to be Jasmine Cooper soon.” Matthew’s gaze lingered on hers—as tender as he had been the night before. He whispered, “We’ll take care of you.”
Spoken aloud, the name Jasmine Cooper settled into her mind for the first time. She looked at Matthew—her future husband—and she considered what it meant to become his wife.
Her actions had forced him to run this courtship gauntlet. Instead of retreating, he stood determined, welcoming the challenge. Her next words left her without thought. “I don’t deserve you.”
“Nonsense.” He gave her a rueful smile. “You deserve better.”
Before Jasmine could respond, Matthew pulled a watch from his chest pocket. He checked the time and sighed. “Alas, I must leave. There are some tasks I need to complete at the factory if I’m to carve out time for our outing tomorrow.”
Endlessly curious about how Matthew would approach courtship, she asked, “What are we doing tomorrow?”
The corner of his lip lifted, and he winked.
“It’s a surprise, but I have big plans!”
***
Matthew didn’t have any plans at all!
The outing was as much of a surprise to him as it was to Jasmine, because he didn’t know the first thing about courtship.
Matthew stood over his desk, pencil in hand.
The schematics of Duke Kendall’s pistol lay before him, but the lines blurred on the page.
He couldn’t concentrate on anything other than Jasmine.
Once a week, he could wait in the hall—with her other suitors—for twenty minutes of her time.
At balls and soirees—and he would go to every single one of them—he could hold her for scant minutes. Every second with her needed to count.
Propriety stated she didn’t have to marry him; she had to marry someone. Her marriage of convenience offer could go to any other gentleman. Once society whispered toxins in her ear and she learned of his multitude of sins, how in blazes was he supposed to make her fall for him?
He hadn’t been able to sleep the night before, haunted by the memory of Jasmine underneath him. When she spoke Spanish in the wine cellar, he learned that her tongue was magic, his kisses felt like fire, and that her body was made for him. Every word consumed his thoughts.
Especially the echo of her breathing, “Quiero más.”
She wanted more, and he would give her more—in five miserable weeks!
He gripped a fistful of his hair, and he inhaled through his teeth.
Struggling to keep his thoughts clean, he returned his attention to the pistol’s diagrams. As he did, the door opened.
Seth entered the office, bringing with him the scent of hot metal and smoke.
Blotchy patches of oil stained the sleeves of his linen work shirt.
Seth’s blue eyes widened a fraction when he saw Matthew.
“I thought you would be with Lady Jasmine.” Seth offered Matthew his hand. “I hear felicitations are in order! It’s a good match. Well done.”
“Lower your hand. Don’t congratulate me until she accepts my proposal.” Matthew tapped his pencil against his desk. “She’s not mine yet.”
“Yes, but that’s only a matter of time.” Seth frowned. “Why are you unhappy?”
“I’m not unhappy.” Matthew returned to the sketch. “I’m concerned about this. This pistol problem needs to be solved.”
“This is all but solved.” Seth took the paper from Matthew and placed it on his own desk. “The barrel needed straightening, and I’ve adjusted the trigger. It’ll be a smoother shot, most likely as accurate as you’re going to get without us starting over.”
“When will it be ready?”
“By the end of the day, I imagine.” Seth pursed his lips. “You can leave. When it’s done, I’ll test it.”
Matthew shook his head. “It needs to be me. I have to showcase it blindfolded at Duke Kendall’s birthday ball. I’m the guest of honor. He wants a performance.”
“You never should have gotten involved with Duke Kendall. He’s unholy.” Seth’s eyes narrowed. Voice low, he asked, “Do you suppose he will ask for something simple and safe? I would hate to see what Duke Kendall considers a parlor trick.”
“I can’t deny him, Seth—you know that. But that’s not all.” Unable to meet Seth’s eyes, Matthew looked at the floor. “I promised I would bring Cassandra.”
Seth stepped forward with lethal quickness. Matthew stepped back and flinched.
“That’s no longer your promise to make,” Seth ground out. Crossing his arms over his chest, he stared Matthew down. “My wife and my unborn child will not be attending Duke Kendall’s birthday celebration. I don’t care what the consequences are for you.”
The door creaked open, and Zeke walked in. The clink-clanking sound of the factory stole into the room before he closed the door. He glanced at Matthew and gave him a welcoming smile.
“I’m surprised to see you this morning, Lord Lincolnshire. I expected you would be—”
“I know damn well what you expected,” Matthew snapped.
Zeke’s brown eyes widened at Matthew’s sharp tone. He moved to stand in front of his desk and spoke to Seth as if Matthew wasn’t there.
“Viscount Lincolnshire is in a foul mood this morning.”
“You don’t know the half of it.” Seth paced around the room, circling Matthew. “He’s lost his mind.”
“Such hostility is unusual for a man who is to be wed.”
“He’s like a baited badger.”
“One would think he would be dancing for joy.”
“I wouldn’t be in the office.”
“Will you both stop?!” Matthew snapped. “I’m not marrying her yet! I have to court her.” He took in a deep breath and reined in his aggravation. “She doesn’t love me.”
Until the night before, he hadn’t realized how important it was for Jasmine to love him when they married. As a man. He wanted to make love to her on their first night as husband and wife.
“I can’t fail again.” His shoulders slumped and his voice caught. “I don’t think I could survive it if she got on another ship.”
Seth and Zeke shared a glance.
Seth stepped forward. “Do you need advice?”
“Not from you, Seth.” Matthew stuck his fingers in his ears. “You lost the right to give me advice on women when you married my sister.”
Seth sighed and stepped aside. “Zeke, help me out.”
Academically, Zeke asked, “How do you normally seduce women?”
Matthew considered the question.
“I don’t normally seduce women in daylight,” Matthew drawled. He normally didn’t seduce women on tables either. With the way Jasmine kissed him, seduction wasn’t the issue. “She’s attracted to me, but her heart is different. I can’t always have her in a bed.”
Zeke shook his head. “It’s not the bedchamber where true seduction occurs.”
Matthew raised an eyebrow. “And what do you know about true seduction?”
“I don’t talk about it in the office because I’m a gentleman, but I have”—his eyes shifted away, and he blushed—“romantic exploits of my own.”
Seth barked a laugh and threw his arm around Zeke’s shoulder. “Our little boy.”
Zeke shrugged Seth off of him, moved to the side, and fixed his suit. With a cough, he turned his attention back to Matthew. “Listen to me. You have to cater to her interests. What are they?”
Matthew paused. “What do you mean?”
“What does she do in her free time?” Zeke asked, as if teaching a child arithmetic. “Does she read? Does she like flowers, embroidery, fashion…?”
“Well…” Matthew took time to consider the question.
A long time.
Zeke put his head in his hands.
“I’m thinking!”
“One thing,” Seth said.
Matthew ran through Zeke’s questions in his mind. Jasmine enjoyed being outside with the sun on her face and the wind in her hair. She had no interest in flowers or art. The best times he had found common ground with her were over the breakfast table, tea, or drinks.
“She likes food,” Matthew said.
“That’s a good start,” Zeke replied. “Ask her about her favorite Spanish dishes, hire a chef, and try them together. You could bond over it!”
“That will take some time to sort out, but I suppose that could work.” Matthew faced Seth. “What do you have? Spare me the intimate details, if you will.”
“You need to show off, while being physically close to her.” Seth snapped his fingers and grinned. “I know just the thing! It might solve both of your problems. Trust me, it’s foolproof.”