Don Lorenzo cut in, voice sharp as a dagger. “The tragedy youwould bring is my country’s dependence on English weapons. Dependent on you personally, Lord Lincolnshire, when the war has ended. Napoleon is all but defeated.”
“There is never an end to war.” Matthew’s eyes narrowed on Don Lorenzo. “Your name, sir?”
“Conde Lorenzo de Morales.” He smirked. “Es un placer conocer al Asesino de Lincolnshire.”
“I’m learning a lot of Spanish words today.Hm…Asesino,” Matthew rolled the word on his tongue. “Your Excellency,thiswar is ending, but there will be others. The numbers do not lie, battalions with our rifles suffer fewer casualties. I offer my inventions to your country, not as shackles, but as safety. If mutual interests align, all parties benefit. Is that not the purpose of your visit?” Matthew’s eyes shifted to Jasmine before addressing Don Lorenzo. “Diplomacy?”
“Exactamente. I’m here seeking a beneficial partnership.” Don Lorenzo leered down at Jasmine before speaking to Matthew. “Same as you.”
“My lords,” Lord Rothwell interjected. “This talk of diplomacy and war is not a conversation we should have around ladies. Perhaps we should save it for the war room?”
“What they don’t understand won’t hurt them.” Don Lorenzo snickered. Jasmine glared at him. “In Spain women do not concern themselves with politics and war. Their minds are not so complex. Is it different here in London?”
“Women have complex minds, regardless of their location,” Matthew said. “I would wager several of the ladies present could offer better solutions to these issues, if given a voice.”
Nervous laughter sounded from a handful of ladies. The women shifted uncomfortably in their seats, their eyes darting to Jasmine’s mother and father, who merely watched the events unfold.
Matthew raised his glass to both of them at the head of the table. “For example—I’m sure thatnonewould argue that our hostess, Lady Dorchester, is the most intelligent person in the room.”
“Flattery will get you nowhere, Lord Lincolnshire,” her mother admonished, but then winked at the rest of the guests. “But I do so love to hear it.”
Matthew sipped his champagne and spoke to the table at large. “Don’t let their pretty faces fool you. In particular, Lady Jasmine possesses a quick wit. Just this afternoon she taught me the Spanish word forfriend.”
Jasmine’s face heated as his eyes met hers across the table. His face gentled. As if he were discussing the news over his breakfast table, he asked, “Lady Jasmine, you’ve lived in both Spain and England. What is your opinion on the subject?”
All eyes focused on her, and the room silenced.
Jasmine fidgeted with her gloves under the table. For a long moment, she considered her response.
“If I understand the question, Lord Lincolnshire, you’re asking my opinion on whether Spain should buy weapons from your company?” Jasmine asked. Matthew nodded and waited for her to continue. “My simple answer isno, Lord Lincolnshire.”
“And your complicated answer?” Grinning at her, he teased, “As a businessman and a craftsman, I appreciate knowing where I’m lacking.”
“It has nothing to do with you or your business, but your product.” Eased into a friendly debate, Jasmine continued, “I don’t believe any country should purchase weapons at all. As nations, we must do better to prevent bloodshed. Both countries have experienced great losses, with thousands of soldiers returning home wounded, if at all. Not only every battle, but everylifelost is a tragedy.”
“Exactamente, Lady Jasmine.” The corner of Matthew’s mouth lifted with the flash of a smile. “See? Much more intelligent than I.”
Her heart fluttered with the warmth andpridein his eyes.
Then, the whispers started.
Her rush of happiness vanished when her eyes left his. Several occupants of the table stared at her with their mouths agape. A pale shade of horror graced several ladies’ faces. At the head of the table, the fire in her mother’s intense appraisal could have warmed London for an entire winter, balanced by her father’s cool indifference.
Jasmine didn’t know which hurt worse.
After a moment of stunned silence, Lord Stretton guffawed. “You’re right, Lord Lincolnshire, thereisa brain in there, with more sentimentality than sense!”
A chain reaction of laughter rumbled the table, and all Jasmine wanted to do was crawl into a hole and hide. Turning red up to herears, she bit the inside of her cheek and stared down at her plate. The lamb blurred into a grey blob as her eyes watered. Blinking hard, she reminded herself to smile.
“I can see that the rumor of his ruthlessness is true,” Don Lorenzo said with an impressed air. If he had a quill, he would have taken notes.
“I hope you have learned your lesson,” Lord Rothwell said to Jasmine. “You would do well to reconsider your friendships.”
That was it. Jasmine would follow her mother’s advice and remain silent for the rest of the meal. Then she would go to the wine cellar, open up her mother’s oldest bottle of amontillado, and get drunk.
Dinner couldn’t end fast enough.
***
