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“No,” she said with a pause. A smile formed upon her lips. “Although, I’m quite certain we could say you assist needy unmarried women.”
This time his laugh sounded completely real. “I rather like that. What else?”
“If you could give five pounds to a home for orphaned children my friend operates, I could say you are generous to the poor orphans.”
“Done.”
“Over the next day or so, I will find other brilliant things to say about you.”
He approached her slowly until he stood directly in front of her. She strained her neck to look up at him. Most men of her acquaintance barely matched her height, but not Matthew. As he bent down to her level, she gasped at his nearness. It had nothing to do with his perfectly molded lips, she told herself.
She couldn’t still be attracted to him. It had been five years. No, the nervous feeling in her belly stemmed purely from the fact that he could ruin her.
“You have one month,” he whispered.
Jennette blinked. “Pardon?”
“One month to find me a bride. If after one month you don’t have me well-matched, I will have a special license with both our names on it.”
She pressed her lips together and swallowed the lump of fear down. She could do this. All she had to do was find the most desperate spinster she knew and throw her at him. Besides, her ship to Florence departed in less than a month. If she failed, at least she would be gone before he could marry her.
But she would not disappoint him—her guilt wouldn’t allow it. He deserved some happiness in his life after all that she’d put him through.
“Very well.”
He stared at her with those cold gray eyes burning into her soul. “If you try to dupe me, I’ll make sure everyone in Christendom knows who killed John.”
“I understand.”
“Now,” he said as he straightened to his full height. He reached behind her and fixed her crooked wings. “Put a smile on your face and get back to your party. And happy birthday, Jennette.”
“Thank you,” she said.
He smirked. “Save me a dance.”
“You’re coming inside?”
“There is no better time to start your plan than now, don’t you agree?”
Matthew didn’t wait for her reply. After tying on his mask, he strode for the terrace, leaving Jennette behind. As he entered the ball, a footman walked by with glasses of wine. Matthew pilfered a glass and drank the fruity liquid down in two gulps.
His talk in the garden had not gone as he’d hoped. Somehow, that woman had twisted things around until he was threatening her with marriage. He’d only intended to speak with her. Inform her that he would be reentering Society. But his damned emotions had taken over.
Walking to the refreshment table, he pondered his predicament. He highly doubted Jennette’s ability to find him a willing bride in such a short time frame. She probably had some information on a few people and planned to use it to blackmail one of them into marrying him.
N
ot that he didn’t appreciate that bit of irony.
But at the same time, he didn’t trust her. He would give her one week to show him what type of woman she could offer him. If he didn’t approve of them or they wouldn’t have anything to do with him, Jennette was fair game.
He was being reasonable. And he knew the only way she’d agree to marry him was a public compromising. He hadn’t the heart to tell the world, or even the ton, what had really happened on the field that day. When he had given his promise to John to protect her name, he meant it.
No one would ever discover the truth from him.
Except Vanessa.
That one drunken bitter night when he’d spilled the truth to her. But that was what mistresses were for, after all. Secrets and passion. Subjects too sensitive for anyone else. Vanessa had given him her word never to reveal his secrets, and he’d paid her well for that service.
