“They can be. A man is capable of great wrongs if he thinks he’s right,” Papa warned. “Ask yourself,whywas Matthew with you tonight?”
“Because we’re friends!” Exasperated, Jasmine huffed. “He wentdown there to talk to me. We’ve been arguing since I got back.”
“Another reason to take your time and get to know each other,” he said. “I’ve explained my expectations to Lord Lincolnshire. Tomorrow, he’ll ask for your mother’s permission to court you. Together, we will work out a schedule, and after two weeks, he’ll propose. After the banns are read, you’ll marry.”
“Banns?!” Jasmine’s heart plummeted. That could take months.Monthsof living under her mother’s roof, being dragged to event after event. And a full courtship?
So much wasted time.
“Those areLord Lincolnshire’srules.” Papa took one of her hands and held it in his. “If you still wish to marry him after those two weeks, I’ll allow you to be married by common license the next week.”
Three weeks. That wasn’ttoobad.
“Thank you.” Jasmine smiled and squeezed his hand. “That’s reasonable.”
“Don’t thank me yet.” He held up a hand. “Until he proposes, I cannot reject your other offers of courtship, nor will I.”
Heat rose within her. “You’ll truly allow Lord Rothwell to court meagain? And you don’t know Don Lorenzo at all! He’s intolerable!”
“To avertscandal,” he said directly, “I would ask courtship of any man who asks for your hand.” He tapped her chin until she looked at him. “Don’t look at this like a curse. I want to give you time to change your mind.”
Broken, Jasmine asked, “What if Matthew changeshismind?”
Papa smiled.
“If he’s the right man, he won’t.”
Chapter Thirteen
Sunday luncheon at the Sinclair Mansion was normally a small affair. Today, Jasmine may as well have been at the Epsom Derby. On the back lawn, a white and green striped canopy protected hundreds of guests from the midday sun. High-society members in their Sunday best mingled with foreign guests. They sat at round tables, sampled finger food, and conversed over tea.
Jasmine picked at a buttered roll,hoping the bread would absorb the wine left over in her stomach from the night before. The wailing of the string quartet aggravated a dull throbbing in her left temple. Even so, she strained to hear Matthew’s voice over the crowd.
Dashing in a charcoal suit, he appeared promptly after church, holding a bouquet of pink roses for Jasmine in one hand, and white tulips for Mother in the other. Mildly appeased, Mother took the flowers for the white flag they were, and ushered him to a table on the opposite side of the lawn—in full view of the guests. Jasmine’s eyes kept darting to her parents, trying to gauge their reactions, but she could hardly see them through the crowd.
Near the edge of the canopy, Jasmine visited with Cassandra and Caroline while they waited for Matthew to finish. Cassandra sat with the full confidence of a society matron, shielding both debutantes from unwanted company. That morning, Cassandra had offered her congratulations, her support, and her understanding.
“Do you two know… everything?” Jasmine grimaced. “About last night?”
“Oh, yes,” Caroline chirped. “A self-locking door! What terrible luck, and at such an inopportune time. I would love to hearyourside of the story.”
“Be quiet,” Cassandra hissed. “This needs to be a respectable courtship.”
“Coming from you.” Caroline laughed. “How did your nuptials come about, Mrs. Storage Closet?”
Cassandra blushed a vibrant red. “We should be respectable in public.”
“You don’t do that either.” Caroline turned to Jasmine with a mischievous smirk. “The last time they were in London, Cassandra and Seth landed in the society pages three times for indecency.”
“This is aboutJasmine.” She pulled Caroline in and whispered, “If there’s any further sense of impropriety, they won’t let me chaperone.” Cassandra looked around the crowd and told Jasmine, “I’ll do what I can to get you away from here.”
Caroline glanced around. “Are these people here all the time?”
“Most of them, yes. We’re hosting them,” Jasmine said. “Can’t walk five steps without bumping into someone.”
“For how long?” Caroline asked.
“Another two weeks,” Jasmine grumbled.
