Chapter Thirty-Four
“Must I marry him?” Caroline whispered, staring at the floor.
Jasmine held her hand on the sofa in the Reeves’ sitting room.
She still wore her opera gown, the fabric ruined and wind-blown after driving to find help for her husband.
Matthew sat in an armchair with his elbows on his knees, hiding his head in his hands.
Cassandra sat on other side of the sofa, barefoot and in her night clothes, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth.
Seth and Lord Blackmoor stood along the wall, both with circles under their eyes—waiting for Matthew to speak.
But he said nothing.
The sun had yet to rise, leaving the room in darkness save for one candle on the tea table. The flame swayed as Jasmine moved to kiss Caroline’s brow.
“You won’t marry Duke Kendall.” She addressed the group. “There must be something we can do.”
Seth stepped forward. “I say we take her to Lincolnshire now. If she rides with me, I’ll have her there in two days.”
“How long are you going to hide her? You might miss the baby’s birth.” Cassandra placed a hand on her belly. “We should send word to Earl Bolderwood in Hampshire. He will not allow this.”
“You’ll never get a letter to him,” Lord Blackmoor said. “If you try to remove her from London, Duke Kendall will find her. Every movement will be tracked.”
Jasmine pursed her lips. That was the only reason she hadn’t rushed off to her parents. She would certainly need their guidance, but they hadn’t been able to stop him before. How would now be any different?
“If we hide her, he’ll kill Rothwell, and I’ll hang.” Matthew lifted his head. “I know he will. He’ll do it to get me out of the way.”
“If he suspects any treachery, he might do it anyway,” Jasmine said. “If he’s watching us, we should act like we’re doing as he asked. When he proposes, Caroline will refuse him. Anything after that will make him seem like a spurned suitor.”
“As if that will matter to him.” Cassandra shook her head. “Caroline will suffer either way. She’ll never marry if she publicly rejects a duke. We’ll need to end this quietly before that happens.”
“Nothing about this will be quiet,” Matthew said. “Reputation and marriage are the least of her concerns. Isn’t it better for her to be a spinster than—”
“You speak as if I’m not here!” Caroline shrugged out of Jasmine’s embrace and stood.
“No one has the right to make this decision for me. I want a family, and I want my children’s uncle to be alive.
” Tears spilled from her eyes. “He’ll hang you if I don’t agree.
How could you ask me to choose myself over you? ”
“I’m not asking anything—only that you be patient with me.” Matthew’s voice gentled. “I know one thing—we need to find Rothwell. If he shows his face in public even once, Duke Kendall will lose his leverage. Blackmoor, do you think you can help on that front?”
“I’ll try, but the mansion is a fortress.” Blackmoor frowned. “I’ve sent scouts in before, but they’ve never returned.”
“Maybe I could convince him to tell me where he is?” Caroline offered. “He wants me, and he thinks I’m innocent. We can use that to our advantage. I could flirt with him, get him to lower his guard.”
Jasmine remembered her own attempt at the same thing. “It won’t work—I’ve tried.”
“Yes, but he wasn’t interested in you,” Caroline insisted. “This is my life, too! It’s worth a try, at least. If we let him think he’s won, maybe he’ll slip?”
“He’ll see through it, and you’ll be in greater danger.” Matthew ran his hands through his hair and breathed through his teeth. “We need to be prepared for everything. Aside from Rothwell, our next priority should be fixing the pistol in case I need to use it. Seth?”
“I’ll check it again, but I doubt we’ll have a different result.”
“We’ll try anyway.” Matthew checked his watch. “Our craftsmen will be at the factory within the hour—we’ll greet them at the door. How much time will you need to be ready to leave?”
Seth glanced down at his clothes, and then Cassandra. “Five minutes?”
“Wake Trevor too,” she said.
Seth gave a firm nod, and exited the room.
Lord Blackmoor shared a look with Matthew. “I’ll find out whatever I can, and report back tonight.” He turned to Jasmine and Cassandra. “I’ll place sentries outside. No harm will come to anyone within these walls.”
Jasmine smiled at him weakly. She wished to thank him, but didn’t know where to start. The moment passed, and he departed.
Cassandra rose from the sofa. “I believe we could all use some rest. Jasmine, you’re welcome to any bedchamber.” She placed her arm around Caroline and guided her to the hall. “A few hours of sleep, and we’ll look at this with fresh eyes.”
“I won’t be able to sleep,” Caroline argued, but followed her sister. “You must let me help.”
Their soft voices echoed as they walked away, leaving Jasmine alone with Matthew. His face fell, and his shoulders slumped. Jasmine wrapped her arms around him and kissed him—a lingering touch of lips, reconnecting with him as hopelessness engulfed them both.
“I was afraid for you,” she whispered. Terrified to watch him walk away with shackles on his wrists.
“I’m so sorry.” His voice broke. “This is my fault. I gave him the gun and the rounds. I thought myself clever, I thought—”
“No, there was no way you could have known.” Even as she said the words, it was difficult to not place blame on herself. It had been her idea for the family to attend the opera in the first place.
“I don’t know what to do,” he admitted quietly. “He’s holding us by the throat, but I’d rather die than let him have Caroline.”
“And leave me alone?” Tears formed in her eyes. “Don’t speak like that. Don’t even think it. I will not lose you.”
His eyes met hers earnestly. “Nothing will happen to me, I promise you.”
She choked back a sob. “Don’t make a promise you can’t keep, Matthew.”
He held her face in both hands and wiped away her tears with his thumbs. “I’ll keep it because I’m making it to you. We always keep the promises between us, and I promise: we’ll find a way. Keep thinking,” he pleaded against her lips. “If anyone can solve this, it’s you.”
She gave a watery sigh and buried her head in his shoulder. “You have such faith in me.”
He leaned his head on hers. “I have faith in us.”
Seth politely cleared his throat from the doorway, fully dressed. “Ready when you are.”
After another long kiss, Matthew released her and followed Seth.
After he left, she paced the bottom floor of Cassandra’s home, fighting exhaustion.
She should lie in a bed, but she would find no rest. There were too many variables to account for.
Duke Kendall owned the playing field, and he never played fair.
But who could hold him accountable? The only authority above him was the King, and he would be of no help. She needed someone who held influence outside of the aristocracy, someone who could act without consequence.
She stopped pacing.
There was one other person who possessed the same level of immunity. One person even Duke Kendall couldn’t cross without causing considerable political fallout for the entire country.
And that person owed her a favor.
She exited Cassandra’s house and made her way to the phaeton parked in the front. The horses snorted in protest when they saw her. A pang of guilt gripped her, but she ignored them and climbed into the carriage.
Duke Kendall would expect her to seek comfort from her parents, but they wouldn’t be her first stop. She drove to her father’s mansion and ascended the steps to the guest wing. Knowing full well the impropriety of such an act, she addressed a Spanish footman outside of Don Lorenzo’s suite.
“Please inform His Excellency I am here to speak with him.”
Wordlessly, the servant ducked into the room. He emerged moments later and held the door open for her. “You may enter, my lady. He will be with you shortly.”
The door closed behind her, and she stood awkwardly in the center of the room.
It was furnished with deep burgundy settees and leather chairs.
The cream colored walls reflected the grey light from the windows.
A door on one side led to an adjoining bedchamber, where a faint creaking of floorboards came from the other side.
Within minutes, Don Lorenzo emerged wearing a silk shirt and black breeches. With an unshaven face and his hair tousled from sleep, he seemed an entirely different person.
“Buenas dias.” He greeted her with a grin, raking his eyes over her. “If I knew you marrying another would have you in my bedchamber—and in last evening’s dress, no less—I would have recommended it sooner. Does your husband know you are here?”
“He does not.” Jasmine stifled her revulsion and curtsied to him. “Thank you for seeing me. I understand it’s earlier than you typically rise.”
“She’s thanking me. Perhaps I am still dreaming.” He laughed. “What brings you to me this morning, Lady Lincolnshire?”
Jasmine wasted no time.
“At my wedding, you asked if there was anything you could do to help me against Duke Kendall, did you mean it?”
“Anything within my ability and my obligations to the Spanish Crown,” he said pointedly. “You may ask, but I make no guarantees.”
She inhaled deeply. He was going to think she had gone mad, but she had nothing to lose.
“My family is in trouble. Duke Kendall is holding a man hostage to blackmail my husband into forcing my sister-in-law into marriage.”
Don Lorenzo raised a brow, as if considering whether or not to ring for a physician. He opened the door to the hall. She expected him to throw her out, but instead he spoke to the footman.
“Would you mind fetching us breakfast?” he asked. He closed the door and gestured for her to sit. “I believe you should start from the beginning.”
She sank into a leather chair. Having released the worst of it, a flood of words tumbled forth from her lips. He listened patiently while she told him everything.
Midway through her explanation, a breakfast tray arrived. The maid’s eyes widened only a fraction to see her there before scurrying from the room. Having talked herself hoarse, Jasmine sipped her tea. When she finished speaking, Don Lorenzo sat back with his fingertip on his chin.
“An unfortunate chain of events, but I fail to see how I can be of assistance.”
“I’m not certain either, but I need allies. Duke Kendall’s birthday ball is this Friday. Ask to be invited and he’ll be unable to refuse you.”
“After all of that, you’re asking me to attend a ball?” He regarded her skeptically. “What will you require of me there?”
“I want you to do the right thing—whatever that may be. Duke Kendall will have my husband shoot blindfolded.” She sighed, staring into the dark surface of her tea. “That’s where I’ll need help. If anything goes wrong, you can step in where others cannot.”
A notch formed between his brows. He raised a muffin to his lips, bit into it, and chewed slowly.
“If I understand correctly—you wish for me to ruin a duke’s birthday ball, stand in the way of his marriage, and possibly involve myself in a murder. All to your benefit?” He bent over with his laughter. “Your personal affairs ceased to be my concern when you married another man.”
“If you’re not interested in helping me, you shouldn’t have wasted my time.” She stood and crossed the room with steady strides.
“Wait,” he called out.
She paused in the doorway and turned to him.
He leaned forward. “What color is it?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“The blindfold,” he drawled. “What color will it be?”
“Black. Does it matter?”
“It may.” An unidentifiable gleam crossed his features. “We’ll see on Friday.”