He offered her a warm smile, and then his arm. “Are you ready?”
She took his arm and gave him a firm nod. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”
Their footsteps echoed in the home as he led her from her childhood room, down the hall to the grand staircase, then finally onto the lawn. A string quartet struck up a gentle melody, and the guests stood as she approached. Through the crowd Jasmine found Mama at the front and remembered her advice.
Chin up. Chest out. Shoulders straight.
The smile came easily.
Because Matthew waited at the end of the aisle. He stood tall—with a boyish grin on his lips and wonder on his face.
Effortlessly, her steps led her to him.
Her father kissed her cheek, then placed her hand in Matthew’s. Jasmine handed her bouquet to Cassandra, who matched Caroline in a mint green dress. There were tears in their amber eyes. Jasmine wanted to hug them both, and she would—as theirsister.
She turned to Matthew to see unshed tears inhiseyes. Goodness, she would have to be strong enough for the entire family. Standing with Matthew now, she finally felt up to the task. She laced both of her hands with his and gave them a gentle squeeze. He ran his thumb across her knuckles and pulled her in closer. The scent of his cedarwood pomade mingled with the floral scent of her bouquet, grounding her. His smile warmed her soul, and the tension melted from her shoulders.
Every voice muted. The crowd disappeared. In the next breath, it was only the two of them. Simply her and Matthew in her backyard—making promises to each other.
Why did I put so much pressure on this?
Repeating the vicar’s words, she vowed herself to Matthew. For better, for worse, she promised to love and cherish him through all the trials that life would throw their way. When asked if she would take Matthew as her wedded husband, the only answer was, “I will.”
When he slid the emerald wedding ring on her finger, it sparkled in the sunlight, fitting as if it was made for her—like the man standing before her. Then he sealed his lips to hers, with all the sweetness of a first kiss. Gentle, chaste, and a second longer than was proper. When they parted, Jasmine met the shining eyes of her husband.
The crowd formed once more, standing in unison, they clapped andcelebrated their union.
Matthew offered her his arm and gave her a devilish grin. “Shall we, Lady Lincolnshire?”
The reception flew by in a blur of felicitations, clinking glasses, and toasts. Jasmine Cooper, Viscountess Lincolnshire, scarcely had time to breathe between thanking each guest. During a lull, Matthew had briefly stepped away, and Mama took that opportunity to thrust her into the sphere of social politics—as a lady of theton.
Jasmine followed her mother, watching her maneuver the drawing-room like a chessboard. Now that she knew what to look for, Jasmine could see a woman’s work in action. A fluttering fan, a frown in just the right way, and voices edged with an abundance of concern. Gossip spread underneath in what wasn’t said, and the Benevolent Ladies pulled the strings.
“I was the one who found Lady Dorchester.” Mrs. Winslow sighed. “His Grace couldn’t be bothered to send word to her mother.”
“It’s deplorable,” Honora said. “Why, my late husband would have never ignored a woman in need.”
Lady Alverton waved her fan and clucked. “Indeed.”
“Lord Lincolnshire looked like a fairy tale prince, carrying her out.” Lady Linwood reached forward to hold Mama’s hand. “He’ll be a wonderful husband to your daughter, Lady Dorchester.”
Mama sighed and placed a hand on her heart. “We are profoundly proud of him. If only His Grace had taken more care. My son-in-law—”
“Speaking of my husband,” Jasmine cut in, seeing her chance to escape. “I need to find him. He’s been gone too long.”
She placed a kiss on her mother’s cheek and promised to call upon the Benevolent Ladies in a few days, and said her farewells. Their conversation resumed once she left.
She surveyed the room, searching for Matthew. Near the punch bowl, Cassandra and Caroline were occupied in conversation with Lord Blackmoor and Earl Bolderwood—who carried his granddaughter Rose on his shoulders. On the other side of the room, the remaining Spanish diplomats surrounded her father.
Matthew’s laughter carried over the dull hum of conversation. She followed the sound and saw him through the open double doors leading to the lawn.
He stood outside on the terrace, speaking to Seth and Mr. Sanderson. He held a glass of brandy in one hand and a cigar in the other. The three raised their glasses in the air, then Matthew brought his to his lips. All she wanted to do was kiss him and taste the brandy on his tongue. She needed her husband to take her home and love her until the morning.
She made her way to the door, but before she reached it, a voice called to her.
“Felicidades,SeñoraLincolnshire.”
Jasmine stifled a groan and turned to greet Don Lorenzo. He wore a black suit, a gold waistcoat, and held two fizzing flutes of champagne in his hands.