Chapter Twenty-Nine #2
Mama sighed and placed a hand on her heart. “We are profoundly proud of him. If only His Grace had taken more care. My son-in-law—”
“Speaking of my husband,” Jasmine cut in, seeing her chance to escape. “I need to find him. He’s been gone too long.”
She placed a kiss on her mother’s cheek and promised to call upon the Benevolent Ladies in a few days, and said her farewells. Their conversation resumed once she left.
She surveyed the room, searching for Matthew. Near the punch bowl, Cassandra and Caroline were occupied in conversation with Lord Blackmoor and Earl Bolderwood—who carried his granddaughter Rose on his shoulders. On the other side of the room, the remaining Spanish diplomats surrounded her father.
Matthew’s laughter carried over the dull hum of conversation. She followed the sound and saw him through the open double doors leading to the lawn.
He stood outside on the terrace, speaking to Seth and Mr. Sanderson.
He held a glass of brandy in one hand and a cigar in the other.
The three raised their glasses in the air, then Matthew brought his to his lips.
All she wanted to do was kiss him and taste the brandy on his tongue.
She needed her husband to take her home and love her until the morning.
She made her way to the door, but before she reached it, a voice called to her.
“Felicidades, Senora Lincolnshire.”
Jasmine stifled a groan and turned to greet Don Lorenzo. He wore a black suit, a gold waistcoat, and held two fizzing flutes of champagne in his hands.
He offered her a glass. “A toast?”
She glanced down at the glass, then stepped back, shaking her head.
“No, thank you,” she said primly. “I’m not thirsty.”
“Hm.” He pursed his lips and lowered the champagne. “I trust you are fully recovered from your sudden illness at the Jewel Ball?”
“I assure you, I’m fine.” She plastered on a smile. “I’m the happiest I’ve ever been. I’m married to a man I love, and no longer need to suffer your acquaintance.”
“You always wound me. I’m glad to hear you’re well. You see…” He lowered his voice. “I saw you fall ill next to Duke Kendall.” A cold tension shivered down her spine when he whispered, “?Se ha recuperado del ataque?”
She stifled the tremor in her hands by clasping them together.
“I’ve recovered from my illness with no lasting effects.” She swallowed hard and fought the urge to slap him. “Why didn’t you do anything?”
“I did what I could.” He shifted his gaze to Lord Blackmoor then back to her. “Are there no legal consequences in England for illnesses like yours?”
“No.” She inhaled deeply and straightened her spine. “Not when you fall ill at a duke’s ball.”
“Lady Lincolnshire, if there is anything I can do—”
“You can’t. You’ll make it worse.” She shook her head. “Thank you for your concern. If you’ll excuse me, I need to find my husband. Have a safe voyage back to Spain, Don Lorenzo.”
“I believe I’ll extend my stay in London,” he said, bowing to her. “Tell your husband I wish to speak with him.”
“Tell him yourself,” she snapped.
She pivoted and took steady steps to the door, leaving him far behind.
Calming her racing heart, she assured herself she was safe now, with a husband who would protect her in a crisis.
A man who would take action instead of merely alerting the authorities.
As she stepped outside, she inhaled the fragrance of fresh-cut grass and the spicy scent of cigar smoke.
Matthew turned to her, and his smile widened.
He put out his cigar on a silver ashtray and offered her his arm.
She leaned into his embrace and gently met his gaze.
“I missed you,” she whispered.
He raised her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles. “I missed you.”
Seth cleared his throat. She shifted her attention to him—and a furiously blushing Mr. Sanderson. Both gunsmiths bowed to her, but Mr. Sanderson kept his eyes glued to the ground after he rose.
Seth came forward to wrap one arm around her shoulders. “Welcome to the family, Jasmine.” He shot Matthew a smirk. “Finally.”
As Matthew and Seth huddled over her, Mr. Sanderson kept his eyes averted.
“Are you well, Mr. Sanderson?” Jasmine asked. “You’re flushed.”
“Felicitations, Lady Lincolnshire. I’m… well—I’m f-fine.” He spoke to his shoes. “You make a lovely bride. Welcome to the family. I attend breakfast every Saturday, and would very much like to continue, if it pleases—my goodness—if it’s all right with you, my lady.”
“It’s your breakfast table as much as it is mine.” She laughed. “You needn’t be frightened of me, Mr. Sanderson. I won’t bite.”
“No, I know you won’t bite me.” He coughed. “But you know? I believe I hear someone calling my name. I should go.” Mr. Sanderson bowed once more and bolted into the house. Seth laughed, then followed him inside.
Jasmine raised an eyebrow at Matthew. “What was that about?”
Matthew’s blush matched Mr. Sanderson’s.
“Zeke was there that night,” he said slowly.
Jasmine frowned. “He was where, which night?”
“At the factory,” he trailed off, then his voice pitched. “In the room right next to mine.”
A flush rushed to Jasmine’s cheeks, and she clasped her hands over her mouth. “No.”
“He’s past it. Well. For the most part,” he said sheepishly. “He’s forgiven me.”
“Forgiven you,” she accused. “How am I to sit at a breakfast table with someone who has heard me—”
“The same way we all will, love—by pretending it never happened.” Matthew placed a discreet kiss to her cheekbone and pulled her closer. “This is nothing new for us. You’ve married into a strange family. You’ll grow accustomed to it.”
He guided her to look in at their family, standing in a circle inside.
Papa stood straight-backed, speaking to Seth, Trevor, and Mr. Sanderson.
Cassandra, Caroline and Honora giggled as they gossiped.
Lord Blackmoor remained at the edge, silently watching.
Earl Bolderwood removed Rose from his shoulders and handed her to Mama.
With a twinkle in her eye, she placed the child on her hip and rubbed their noses together.
“It’s a beautiful family,” Jasmine said coyly. “But it’s missing something.”
“And what is that?”
She whispered against his ear, “An heir.”
Gooseflesh rose over his neck, his grip on her hand tightened, and his hazy eyes met hers.
“You’re right, it could use an heir.” His voice roughened—throaty and deep. “You want to go home and try to make one?”
She grinned.
“I thought you would never ask.”