Chapter Twenty-Four
Matthew left her in the dark.
He truly left her.
Jasmine held her hand to her chest. Short, shallow breaths escaped her, and she fought back tears. Her knees threatened to give out, and she held onto the wall for support.
This was all a terrible mistake.
She hadn’t thought that she could lose him over this. So sure his heart belonged to her, she had been callous with it. She didn’t know the first step to fixing this—or if there was any fixing it at all.
In situations like these, Jasmine remembered her mother’s advice.
Chin up. Chest out. Shoulders straight.
Smile.
She didn’t think she could manage that last one. She forced a smile, but it faltered. If only she could go home and spend the rest of the night in bed—but the event wasn’t half over, and she had already been gone too long.
Jasmine ran her fingers through her hair, taming the locks as best she could. A glance at the dark mirror above the mantel only revealed her shadow. It didn’t matter what she looked like—she would be the talk of the ton, regardless.
Best not keep them waiting.
Yellow candlelight spilled into the room when she opened the door to leave. She stepped into the hallway and faced the maid, waiting obediently outside.
“Please escort me back to Duke Kendall,” Jasmine said.
The maid nodded and led the way. Jasmine followed her through winding hallways that all looked the same.
Purple drapery lined every wall, darkening the halls further as they walked.
But was this the way they came? It didn’t seem so, but the music of a quadrille echoed in the manor, growing louder with each step closer to the ballroom.
Ahead, at a turn in the hallway, Duke Kendall spoke to three servants—two maids and a footman carrying a silver tray of punch. They all stepped back and bowed their heads.
As if they weren’t there, Duke Kendall smiled at her and opened his arms in welcome.
“Ah! There she is,” he said, as if finding a lost child. “I was quite certain you wouldn’t return.” He stepped closer, and his tone changed to one of concern. “My lady, you’re flushed.”
“I’m fine, Your Grace,” Jasmine lied. “It’s merely warm this evening.”
“How rude of me—you must be parched.” He shot her a smirk. “You have been dancing all night.”
He waved a hand in the air. The footman stepped forward, and Duke Kendall plucked a small glass of punch from the tray.
He swirled the glass like a showman and held it to her, balanced in his open palm.
Fighting the urge to throw it in his face, Jasmine took the glass and politely sipped.
She cringed. Too strong by far, the pungent sting of alcohol burned her nose, gritty as if he poured earth into it.
“Thank you, Your Grace,” Jasmine forced out. “You’re always so kind.”
“Where is Lord Lincolnshire?” Duke Kendall looked around as if Matthew would materialize in the hallway. “I was hoping to find the two of you together.”
“He’s likely departed for the evening.”
After an argument like that, Matthew would run away.
As he always did.
“Oh, he cannot leave. The festivities have scarcely started,” Duke Kendall lamented. “After all the work we’ve done, I take it wedding bells are not in the future?”
She looked away, unable to answer—because her first thought was no. A buzzing rang in her ears, and her pulse throbbed in her temple at the gut-wrenching thought that Matthew might not want to marry her.
“Seems like your little plan failed,” Duke Kendall crooned. “But have no fear, I’ll ensure that Lord Lincolnshire does right by you.” He offered Jasmine his arm and waited for her to take it. “Trust me, you’ll be engaged by the end of the evening.”
Pushing down her revulsion, Jasmine took two steps forward…
And gravity shifted.
The glass of punch fell from her hands, landing soundlessly on the carpet below. Stumbling, she reached for the wall to steady herself. Her stomach heaved. The edges of her vision blurred.
And Duke Kendall laughed.
“What did you—” her voice slurred. She opened her mouth to speak again, but couldn’t get words out. The room spun in a haze of color and light. Closing her eyes, she pressed her hand to the wall…
… or was it the floor?
“My dear, you look unwell,” Duke Kendall’s voice warbled in her ears, and shadows surrounded her. “My maids will see you to a place where you can rest.” He snapped his fingers. “Girls?”
Jasmine tried to take a step back—fought to stay awake. She opened her eyes as wide as she could, but they drooped. Pressure closed over both of her arms, then lifted. She struggled, but her body was heavy.
And then she was falling.
***
Matthew paced on the back terrace, breathing through his teeth. The wind burned his cheeks. Raising his face to the heavens, he prayed for patience. He needed to apologize, and he would—when he calmed down. Even infuriated with her, he loved her. But damn it—she made his heart hurt.
Because Jasmine didn’t love him.
After all the work he did to earn her favor, he still wasn’t enough.
The music from the ballroom carried into the open air. He should go back in. But what for? To watch Jasmine dance with Duke Kendall all night?
No, he wouldn’t stand for it.
He needed to box. Pummel something, or get some sense knocked into him—whichever came first. It was Saturday evening, so there would be a match at the Rookery. He would take part, no matter the cost.
Decision made, Matthew reentered the ballroom to say goodnight to his sisters.
The stifling humidity of perfume and sweat covered the room.
Once more, a crowd formed a circle around a dancing couple—murmuring and whispering.
As he searched for his sisters, he caught scraps of conversation: lovely couple… golden pair… perfect match….
“Exquisite, isn’t she?”
Matthew clenched his jaw. Trying to ignore the whispering, he scanned the room for Cassandra and Caroline. And near the front of the circle, he spotted Cassandra staring helplessly at the dancers. Her gaze shot to him as he approached, and she glared.
As if his evening wasn’t unpleasant enough.
“Where have you been?” she hissed. “I needed you here!”
“I stepped outside. I needed air,” Matthew grumbled. He took in Cassandra’s distraught expression and released an exasperated sigh. “What is it now?”
But then he noticed Cassandra was alone.
A chill crawled over his skin. He shifted his gaze.
And in the middle of the room…
Duke Kendall waltzed with Caroline.
Caroline’s white dress fluttered like a dove’s wings with their graceful movement. Her golden hair glowed under the flickering lights, matching the gold rings adorning Duke Kendall’s fingers on her back. She glimmered like a diamond, as bright as the gleam in Duke Kendall’s eyes.
“How did this happen?” Matthew asked.
Cassandra’s voice trembled. “You weren’t here, and I couldn’t refuse him.”
Matthew cursed under his breath.
“It’s not your fault. I’ll take care of this,” he assured her. “Stay here and wait for me. I’ll have the carriage brought around. As soon as Caroline returns, we’re leaving.”
And first thing in the morning, his sisters would leave London.
As Matthew turned to find a footman to summon their carriage, Aunt Valentine bustled through the crowd to them. Terse-lipped, she glanced around and sighed.
“I had hoped Jasmine was with you,” Aunt Valentine said. “Have either of you seen her?”
“I haven’t spoken to Jasmine all night.” Cassandra furrowed her brow and asked Matthew, “Have you?”
“The last I saw her, she was in the hallway with a maid,” Matthew half lied. They would both hear the truth from Jasmine tomorrow, no need to tell them now. He didn’t need four women angry with him tonight.
“I don’t need to know the details,” Aunt Valentine said carefully. “Only the time.”
He checked his watch.
Was it midnight already?
“About an hour ago,” Matthew said.
“I’ll keep searching.” Aunt Valentine huffed. “If you see her, send her my way.”
And all business, Aunt Valentine walked away, her head held high, as if nothing was amiss. Matthew’s scowl deepened. Jasmine should have returned by now. She was likely hiding somewhere, as she always did when overwhelmed.
Or crying.
That he might have brought her to tears left a bitter taste in his mouth, but he could only focus on one problem at a time. There was no fixing anything with Jasmine tonight. He would only make matters worse. Aunt Valentine would have to take care of her own debutante.
He needed to look after his.
The waltz ended, the crowd parted, and silence descended over the ballroom.
All eyes were on them now, and Duke Kendall’s hand was still on Caroline’s back.
A blush covered her freckled cheeks. She stood proudly, looking like a duchess.
In the carriage, he would trample that dream once and for all, and then arrange a marriage for her.
As he should have done already.
Matthew donned a stoic expression as Duke Kendall escorted Caroline to him. First, Duke Kendall inclined his head to Cassandra.
“Here you are, Mrs. Reeves—your charge. Safely returned, as promised.” Duke Kendall turned to Caroline and whispered close to her ear, “It was a pleasure waltzing with you, Miss Caroline.”
“Yes it was, Your Grace.” Caroline stepped away from him, curtsied low, and smiled. “We must do it again some time.”
“I assure you, we will.”
Duke Kendall had the audacity to wink at her, and Matthew stepped between them. Duke Kendall’s smile widened further.
“Lord Lincolnshire, I must thank you for allowing me to dance with two of your loveliest ladies tonight.” His gaze traveled to Cassandra. “Perhaps a minuet next with Mrs. Reeves, to top it off?”
“She’ll have to decline,” Matthew answered for her. “My family and I are departing for the evening. Thank you for your hospitality, Your Grace.”
“You cannot leave yet,” Duke Kendall said. “I see so little of you lately, I insist we have a proper conversation. Walk with me, Lord Lincolnshire.”