Cassandra teased, “One day, Lady Worthing, you’re going to find a man who will sweep you off your feet.”
“I couldn’t imagine a worse fate.” Honora picked up her needle and thread. “My feet like to remain firmly on the floor.”
Once more, Percival knocked on the door.
“Pardon me, my lady. A gentleman has called and asked for you and Her Ladyship.” He discreetly looked around. “Might you know where she may be found?”
“Is it calling hour already?” Jasmine’s eyes traveled to the clock in the room. Half past twelve. Soon, there would be a flood of visitors to attend to. She groaned and reluctantly stood.
“My mother is in the garden. I’ll fetch her myself.” She spoke to the ladies. “Stay as long as you’d like, but please say goodbye before you leave.”
Making her way through the house, Jasmine followed the path down the winding stairs, and toward the door to the gardens.
In the middle of the hall stood Lord Rothwell. Unaccompanied. His blue eyes sparkled above a smile as white as the bouquet of roses in his hands. He had the audacity to walk alone in her home!
She stomped past him.
“Go away, Lord Rothwell. I’m not at home.”
Undeterred, he followed her.
“It’s my turn to call today, Lady Jasmine. I’ve come to request an outing of my own. A ride through the park, or a walk through themuseum?”
“There are plenty of ladies who would love to be on your arm.” She lengthened her stride. “Go find one.”
“Perhaps Mrs. Reeves would accompany us. It would only be fair after chaperoning her brother.” Dropping his gentlemanly facade, he hissed, “To keep the playing field even.”
“The playing field?” She stopped and shot him her nastiest glare. “You’re wasting both of our time. I will never choose you, Lord Rothwell.”
“Why not? Your standards are the lowest I’ve ever seen. You would marry a social outcast over a man with a respectable title and a good name.” His face hardened. “Someone who doesn’t care if you’re a harlot.”
“What did you call me?!” She clenched her fist. “Leave my home immediately.”
As she stormed away from him, his quiet response stopped her in her tracks.
“I saw you on Saturday.”
Her stomach churned, and a chill crept up her spine. Adopting a haughty tone, she said, “You sat next to me at dinner—it was hard to miss me.”
“Don’t play coy. Late in the evening, I saw you leaving the cellar. Lip stain smudged and dress rumpled. You were in quite the state. To my surprise, not three minutes later did your father and Lord Lincolnshire emerge. Some conversation you must have had down there.”
“You followed me?!”
“Naïve as you are, I can understand how rake could seduce you. But to lower yourself to the taint of a murderer is beyond shameful. Lucky for you, it doesn’t matter to me that you’re damaged goods, as long as you aren’t with child.”
“I am not damaged,” she hissed. “And do not talk about Lord Lincolnshire like that.”
“He is beneath you. It isn’t too late to turn back to the right path—what you werebornfor.”
“I was born forMatthew!” Jasmine snapped. As the words left her, she felt thetruthin them and clamped her hand over her mouth. Lord Rothwell’s face twisted with hatred.
Her heart beat in double-time, and her instincts warned her to flee.
“I’ll say it was me,” he ground out. “It’ll be your word against mine.”
“You’ll be doing me a favor.” She turned and walked away. “It’ll only hasten my marriage to Matthew.”
As she lengthened her strides, he stomped after her. “You’ve always been a cut above the cloth, haven’t you?”
