Papa shook his head and walked to the window. Facing away from them, he took a series of steady breaths. Then, he returned his attention to them, and the cool finality in his voice dashed all hope in Jasmine’s heart.
“We are in this position because we do not talk to each other. That ends now. I will not bring another person into this family until it is functional. And that is final.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Ladies, it’s Time to Shine!
Thetonis sparkling with excitement! Duke Kendall is openly searching for a wife! Tonight, His Grace is hosting a Jewel Ball to celebrate the occasion. Ladies, wear your best gold, glitter, and glamour. You might shine brightly enough to catch his eye!
On the subject of diamonds—after burning hot and heavy, have Lord Lincolnshire and Lady Jasmine’s romance simply sizzled out? Sources close to the family say that an engagement is in the wings, but how long is the Lincolnshire Slayer going to wait before placing a ring on a poor Phoenix’s finger?
While Lord Lincolnshire waits in the shadows, other suitors circle, ready to swoop in. A certain Spanish Count has made no secret of his interest in Marquess Dorchester’s daughter. Witnesses saw Don Lorenzo perched next to Lady Jasmine in the same box at the theatre this past Wednesday.
Another suitor has been knocked from the nest, but has found himself another bird. Lady Ravenshaw was seen wearing a sizable diamond on her left hand at Lady Stretton’s soirée. With a crooked nose, a new fiancée, and a newfound sense of financial freedom, Lord Roth—
Matthew crumpled the paper in his fist, unable to look at the man’s name for the ten thousandth time that week.
“Brother!” Caroline admonished over the breakfast table. “I wanted to read that!”
He tossed the crumpled ball in her direction. It sailed over an oceanof half-empty plates and teacups. She caught it from the air and carefully flattened it on the table.
Matthew’s gaze focused on her. “You wouldn’t be ‘sources close to the family’, would you?”
“Don’t look at me!” Caroline pointed to Trevor on the other side of the table.
The boy blushed and averted his eyes. “I thought it would help.”
“It didn’t.” Matthew brushed a hand through his hair. “No more talking to the papers. Did we not learn from last time?”
Everyone nodded but remained silent. Caroline absently moved food around her plate. Trevor’s knife sawed through a slice of ham—louder without the typical bustle of conversation. Cassandra and Seth indiscreetly studied him, ready to put out any fires if he erupted.
Matthew bit into a blueberry scone. It crumbled into dust in his mouth, and he washed the grit down with a sip of cold tea. Saturday mornings used to mean rest. Now it meant no forward progress on Rothwell’sforgiveness.
It had been two weeks already!
All week, he scrambled to gather pieces of paper he had sent flying into the wind. But now he was at a standstill, waiting on his solicitors to settle an estate in Scotland.
He opened his pocket watch to Jasmine’s portrait, reminding himself why he labored. He completed the requirements set out for him, down to the letter. Now, all he could do was wait.
Following their argument, Lord Dorchester had barred Matthew from the Sinclair Mansion, but not Cassandra. Through her, Matthew sent gifts, but he had received nothing in return. No letters or messages from Jasmine other than updates from Cassandra that she was well—missing him, but well.
Even though Matthew couldn’t speak to Jasmine, he went to the same events she did. Every stolen glance between them was a shot to his heart, but it gave him something to hold on to. Heartache threatened to drown him, and rage simmered in the same pot. He spenthis mornings sparring with Seth, and his evenings practicing with Duke Kendall’s pistol. He could hit the targets perfectly with his eyes open—but not blindfolded.
Now Duke Kendall was hunting for a wife. Matthew needed to be ready to fight on all fronts. He looked to Caroline, who bit into a slice of toast while reading from the scandal sheet. If Duke Kendall asked for her hand, could Matthew refuse? He couldn’t let Caroline out of his sight, but he couldn’t endure another week without Jasmine. He needed to speak with Lord Dorchester tonight—he would grovel at his feet if he had to.
Memories tortured him of Jasmine’s lips, hovering over his own, whispering,‘I want to get used to you.’
He pushed his plate away and sighed.
“I should be going,” Cassandra said.
The men at the table stood as Cassandra did. She gripped the table for support and held Seth’s hand. She was in the wobbly stage of pregnancy, where she insisted she had balance that she didn’t possess. Seth walked her to the door with a concerned furrow to his brow.
“Are you sure you’re up to movement?” Seth asked. “No one would fault you if you wished to stay home and rest.”
“I’m fine,” Cassandra assured him. “Finish your breakfast. I can manage by myself.”
She leaned up on her toes and kissed Seth’s cheek. Other families might be outraged at the physical affection the Coopers gave their spouses—but his parents had a love match cemented by touch. Matthew had always wanted that for himself. He wanted Jasmine kissing him on the cheek before he left for work, to hold her in their own bed, and indulge in intimacies that extended far beyond sexual desire—a true connection of souls.
