Matthew left her in the dark.
He trulyleft 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 theton, 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. “Youhavebeen 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 cannotleave. The festivities have scarcely started,” Duke Kendall lamented. “After all the work we’ve done, I take it wedding bells arenotin the future?”
She looked away, unable to answer—because her first thought wasno. 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 gravityshifted.
