“Jasmine,” Aunt Valentine warned.
“Moving on.” Cassandra lightly steered the conversation back to the list. “Commodore Sebastian Leopold.”
“He’s the tall man talking with Matthew,” Jasmine said. With his blue uniform with gold buttons and long blond hair tied in a ponytail, the Commodore possessed a gentle beauty and smile. “I spoke to him yesterday. He’s a man of few words, but polite, and he seemed sincere.Only recently returned from the Peninsula. He likes music and spicy food.”
“When was thisconversation?” Aunt Valentine raised a brow and examined her daughter.
“Before dinner, while you were scheming with Cassandra.” Jasmine sat straight and met her mother’s gaze with an identical one of her own. “I thought that you would be proud of me for being proactive.”
Returning her attention to the list, Jasmine yanked the parchment from Cassandra, held it up to her mother, and pointed at the next name with such force that the ink smudged and coated the fingertip of her glove.
“I amnotmarrying Matthew Cooper.”
“What were your requests again? Oh yes,” Aunt Valentine counted on her fingers, “witty conversations, intelligent, attractive, ‘fine-smelling’—"
“It’s important!”
“Itisimportant,” Cassandra agreed.
“Not in Spain,” Aunt Valentine finished.
It was a tired argument. Their parents would certainly have arranged the match if not for the fervent and repeated refusal of both Jasmine and Matthew. Cassandra could only imagine the utter chaos of such a marriage. Both were ceaselessly energetic and impulsive, delving headfirst into new projects and adventures. There wouldn’t be a peaceful moment in their home.
Jasmine made a face. “He’s like my brother.”
“And yet there is no blood relation, which is more than what half of the peerage can say.”
Cassandra took the paper from Jasmine, lightly as to not disturb the glaring competition occurring between the ladies, and her chest tightened, coiling with a cool numbness as she read aloud the last name on the list.
“Mr. Seth Reeves?”
Aunt Valentine broke from Jasmine’s glare and turned to them with a serious expression.
“It would be foolish not to consider him.” Aunt Valentine took her list from Cassandra and used her plate to weigh it down on the table. “If they win this contest, your brother and Mr. Reeves will be the most eligible bachelors in all of Britain. Of course, prior to the signing of any marriage contracts, the rumors concerning him being the Earl’s bastard would need to be addressed.”
“Mama!” Jasmine hissed.
The occupants of the table next to theirs side-eyed them, and a few ladies clucked in indignation.
Aunt Valentine tsked.
“Let them listen, they all want to know.” She turned to Cassandra. “Is it true?”
Cassandra looked between Mr. Reeves and Lord Bolderwood. She couldn’t imagine such a man losing himself to passion, but what did she know of men? It wasn’t uncommon for gentlemen to have affairs that resulted in children. For all she knew, evenMatthewcould have a bastard or two toddling about in some countryside.
Wasthere a resemblance? Mr. Reeves had broad shoulders, but a lean definition to his frame, where Lord Bolderwood was burly and stout. With his son Adrian, there was no question of legitimacy. Mr. Reeves possessed the same black hair, but it wasn’t as if that were a rare trait. And yet… all three men had identical midnight eyes, and their faces were all schooled in the same manner. Not bored, not commanding, but disciplined.
The face of a soldier.
Mr. Reeves was certainly familiar enough with the manor, and entirely too comfortable walking the halls disheveled and dirty. He wore new clothes clearly tailored to him, though she had never seenthem before. He arrived on horseback with a key and a rucksack, as comfortable as a man returning home from a fishing trip.
“This ismybedchamber.”
Cassandra’s mouth opened and closed a few times before sound came out.
“I’m not sure.”
“Can you find out?” Aunt Valentine asked.
