Chapter Twenty-Three #2
“Duke Kendall is an ideal and respectable match. If my daughter wishes to be a duchess, she should be given that choice,” Lord Dorchester said. “And he has yet to offer for her.”
“But I have! I’ll offer whatever you want. She’ll live like a duchess, I swear it. I will build her a castle if that’s what it takes. Please,” he begged. “Please, be reasonable.”
“We can discuss this tomorrow,” Lord Dorchester said dismissively.
“I have been trying to gain an audience with you for days. How will tomorrow be different? If you’re going to reject me, do it now. Don’t leave me hoping for another fortnight.”
“And if I do?” Lord Dorchester raised a brow. His stoic facade slipped, and his harsh gaze bore into Matthew. “If I say you cannot marry Jasmine, you’ll respect that?”
No, the word almost left his mouth, but he couldn’t lie to Lord Dorchester, so he told him the truth. “I’ll do what’s best for her—like I always do.”
Lord Dorchester shook his head and sighed. “You still haven’t learned.”
“What answer do you want from me? Every time I reach the bar you raise it. Everyone else has free access to her, regardless of danger or disrespect. You hold me to a higher standard than anyone else!”
“Precisely,” Lord Dorchester said. “And I don’t like what I see. You were raised better than this. If your father were alive—”
“If my father were alive, he would side with me,” Matthew spat.
“My father taught me how to be a man, and to stand up for what is right.” He stood at his full height and looked down at the man he once respected.
“So you’re correct, Lord Dorchester, I was raised better than this. It’s a shame you weren’t.”
Lord Dorchester opened his mouth to retort, but Matthew didn’t care to hear any more of it. He turned on his heel and made his way to the center of the room. Lord Dorchester said it himself—it was Jasmine’s decision. If she didn’t want him, and he had to mourn her again, he had to know.
He would speak with her after her dance.
And no one could stop him.
***
The hurt on Matthew’s face tugged like fractured glass in Jasmine’s chest, mixing with the unpleasant sensation of Duke Kendall’s hands on her body.
Only then did she regret her decision.
But she was doing this for him. There was no place for Duke Kendall in her marriage. She would not spend her nights comforting a husband at his wit’s end, trying to satisfy an unrelenting duke. Their friendship had gone on long enough.
She needed to break it.
Duke Kendall watched her with eyes so dark they seemed black. Where Matthew was sturdy, Duke Kendall was gangly and shorter than her by a hair. Wispy white hair shone brilliantly, matching his teeth. His pale skin looked graceful from afar, but shallow and sickly up close.
And they were close.
Closer than Matthew dared dance with her.
She tried to put a half step of distance between them, but Duke Kendall kept her close with a firm grip.
“I’m surprised you accepted my invitation.” He raised a thin eyebrow. “I thought you would put up more of a fight.”
“You aren’t a man one can easily say no to.”
“One of my many virtues. It pleases me to have you on my arm tonight—who doesn’t want a diamond?”
“I didn’t think you had an interest.” She kept her smile up, acting like a demure debutante. “When we spoke last in Earl Bolderwood’s yard, you seemed displeased with me.”
“I don’t recall,” he said wistfully. “I was preoccupied with a disappointment.”
She clenched her jaw.
“You said I had a heart of stone,” she reminded him. “What made you change your mind?”
“Oh, I haven’t changed my mind,” he sang. “You’re positively loathsome. You’re unrefined, and your blood isn’t clean. That you wore black tonight speaks to your ill-breeding.”
Jasmine’s nostrils flared, and Duke Kendall laughed.
“Why did you request my company tonight?” She narrowed her eyes. “If you find me so loathsome?”
“The same reason you accepted—to force Lord Lincolnshire to act.” He grinned, then lowered his voice. “And it worked. One dance with another and he’s seething with jealousy. See for yourself.”
She glanced over the crowd to where Matthew stood with her father. Matthew seemed ready to go to blows, gesturing animatedly while he spoke, but her father’s face remained hard. Reluctantly, she tore her gaze from them and focused on Duke Kendall.
“I didn’t plan to make him jealous.”
“No, but you knew he would be. As did I.” In one turn, he brought her closer. His breath ghosted over her ear. “Do you think it pains him to see you with a better man?”
Jasmine fought the urge to jam her heel into his toe, and she pushed herself away from him to a respectable distance.
“Isn’t that what you wanted? To hurt him?”
“Not entirely. I am on the hunt for my future duchess, after all. But it hurts my heart to see Lord Lincolnshire yearn,” he said the word as if he might vomit. “He wishes to marry you, so I’ll give you to him. It’s the least I can do for such a dear friend.”
“Give me to him?” Jasmine spat.
“Of course!” His grin sharpened. “He’s been patient, but even patient men have their limits. How far do you think he can be pushed before he explodes? Shall we find out together?”
“The way you talk about him, one might think you hated him,” she said through gritted teeth.
“That couldn’t be further from the truth. If I hated Lord Lincolnshire, I wouldn’t have saved his life.”
“Saved his life?” Her brows furrowed. “How?”
“It was my word that kept him from the hangman’s noose. And do you want to know a secret?” Then he whispered in her ear, “I lied.”
The waltz ended, and they stopped moving.
“Lied…?” she repeated hollowly. “Lied how?”
“You should ask him,” Duke Kendall chirped. He looked over her shoulder and said, “Ah! There you are Lord Lincolnshire!”
With her heart in her throat, she turned to see Matthew approaching with steady strides. Expressionless, but firm around the eyes—contained fury on the edge of snapping.
He didn’t even look at her.
Instead, he bowed to Duke Kendall. “Good evening, Your Grace. Might I have a word with your companion?”
“Lord Lincolnshire, blunt as a hammer.” Duke Kendall greeted him, then gazed over to Jasmine.
“We do have a busy evening planned, but I can excuse her for a short while. If you need somewhere private...” he whispered to Matthew darkly, “My study is always open to you. I’m sure Lady Jasmine can find her way there in a few minutes. ”
“Thank you, Your Grace.” He bowed to Duke Kendall once more, then turned on his heel and disappeared in the crowd. Jasmine lost sight of him as Duke Kendall covered her hand with his.
“Now, my dear, we can’t have you rush after him right away. It’ll be less suspicious if you wait. Let’s give him time to simmer.”
Half an hour later, Duke Kendall had a maid ‘show her to the ladies’ room.’ The young woman held her shoulders close and her eyes trained to the floor as she led Jasmine through hallways lined with stained-glass windows.
Matthew stood at a double door with his arms crossed. He looked at her for a split second, opened the door behind him, then stepped into the room.
“I’ll wait here, my lady.” The maid curtsied and moved to the side.
Tentatively, Jasmine entered the room, closing the door behind her. Dull embers in a stone fireplace lit the room. Matthew’s eyes glinted as dangerously as the swords on the walls.
“You promised you would wait for me.”
“I am waiting for you,” she said. “Didn’t you talk to Cassandra? I told her to tell you—”
“That you’re mine?” he cut in, raising his volume over hers. “You’ve just convinced the entire ton that you aren’t. Do you intend on marrying him?”
“Of course not!”
“Then why are you here?!”
“To take his measure!” She stomped her foot. “He humiliates you and he uses you. You can’t do anything, but maybe I can.” She gave him a pointed look. “You have to stand up to men like him, don’t you?”
“Men have to stand up to men like him,” he ground out. “And no one stands up to Duke Kendall. You don’t see the recklessness of your actions. Don’t play games you don’t understand.”
“Don’t underestimate me.” She huffed. “I can handle a man like Duke Kendall.”
“No, you can’t! You punch a man in the face and you think you can conquer the world.”
“I’m more than capable of taking care of myself! I can—” Jasmine stopped as Matthew stalked forward, closing the distance between them. He caught her hand and pulled her to him.
“Prove it.” He took her head in his hands. “Conquer me.”
And he kissed her. Nothing else mattered, only the warmth of his body and the silk-smooth slide of his tongue on hers.
His scent enveloped her senses, and she used her hold on his shirt to pull him closer.
Whimpering, she deepened their kiss. A pleased hum sounded from him, and he advanced, step by step, until her back rested against the wall.
Grinding his hips into her, he anchored her with his weight. Between them, he laced his fingers with hers. Easing her hands up, he kissed her wrists, one and then the other. Warmth glowed from his amber eyes.
Then a flash of steel.
In one swift movement, he seized her wrists in one hand and forced them above her head, pinning her to the wall. She gasped as her torso extended and her shoulders uncomfortably stretched. He pulled her higher until she stood on her toes.
His expression hardened.
“Fight back.”
Her lungs strained as she took a shallow breath, and her pulse thumped against her sternum. “What are you doing?”
“Settling an argument. You said you can take care of yourself, so do it. If it’s so simple, get me off of you.”
She tugged at her wrists to get them free, but they wouldn’t budge. Jasmine shifted her hips, but she wasn’t strong enough to move him. She struggled against him until she felt a twinge of pain in her shoulders. She relaxed against the wall and shook her head.
“I can’t do it,” she admitted.
“I’m using only one hand,” he murmured, squeezing her wrists as a reminder. “What do you imagine I can do with the other?”
He ran his fingertip down her cheek, past her jawline, and his leather-gloved hand rested at her throat. Slight pressure—enough to feel when she swallowed.
“I could do whatever I wish to you,” he whispered, ghosting his fingertips across the tops of her breasts. “You wouldn’t be able to stop me.” His hand stopped over her heart. “Don’t you see how fragile you are?”
She opened her mouth to argue, but found no fault in his words.
Another man would have overpowered her all too easily.
Matthew kept her hands over her head, but not to the point of pain.
Even with him angry at her, he would stop if she asked him to stop.
He didn’t want to hurt her, he wanted to prove a point.
But so did she.
“Matthew?” He lifted his head and met her eyes. “Don’t stop. I want you to touch me, I want you to kiss me—”
Covering her mouth with his, he kissed her hard.
“You torment me,” he growled.
She shifted in his hold, trying to bring him closer, but he held her down.
He removed the glove from his free hand with his teeth, and his bare fingertips roamed over the firm ridges of her corset, then down into the hollow of her hip. Shifting between her legs, he grabbed a handful of her skirt and lifted it.
“You want me to touch you… right here?” He gripped the naked flesh of her thigh. She gasped and tried to lean into his touch, but he held back. Darkly, he whispered, “I asked you a question.”
“Yes, Matthew, I want you.”
He grazed his fingertip inward, to the sensitive space between her legs—circling where she had touched herself nightly, thinking of him.
Exquisite torture surged through her as he touched her enough to tease but not fulfill.
She was close to that peak. So frustratingly close. He kept her there, right at the edge.
“You want my body, clearly, but do you care for me?” He rose and kissed her tenderly. “Do you want my heart?”
“Yes.” She leaned her brow against his. “More than anything.”
I love you. The words were on her lips, but he captured them once more in a slow, lingering kiss.
“If you want my heart…” he allowed his words to trail, and his voice turned cold. “Stop breaking it.”
And he let her go.
Her eyes shot open, and she reached for him, but he stepped away. Without another look at her, he strode from the room and closed the door behind him.
Leaving her alone.