Jasmine fought the urge to roll her eyes as he took his seat. He was far from the first man to gawk at her, anddefinitelynot the last, as Viscount Rothwell took the seat to her left.
Blond and blue-eyed, Lord Rothwell had the straightest teeth she had ever seen. She had seen them plenty during his multiple attempts to court her. But looks alone didn’t make up for a patronizing nature, and Jasmine had never appreciated being talked down to.
“You look lovely, Lady Jasmine.” Lord Rothwell spoke gently, as if soothing a scared animal. “It is good to see you safely returned. I prayed for a second chance to speak with you. The Lord has seen fit to answer me.”
“Good for you,” Jasmine grumbled. “God seldom answersmyprayers.”
“Perhaps that is about to change. I know we’ve had some setbacks between us, but my affection for you remains as strong as ever.” He pulled his chair closer to hers until their elbows touched. “I’ve spoken to your mother about my intentions. Pray, allow me another chance to capture your heart.”
She scooted her chair away from him.
“No, thank you.”
Stuck between two of her worst options, Jasmine held her arms close to her and made a prayer of her own.
Lord, please don’t make me marry either of these men.
Jasmine lifted a half-full flute of champagne to her lips. She drained the glass in one swallow and gestured for another. She motioned for the server to continue pouring until it reached the top.
After all the guests sat down, Matthew entered the dining room. He flashed everyone an apologetic smile as he passed by. The ladies on either side of him scooted their chairs away as he took his seat. Once settled, Matthew directed his attention to Lord Bolderwood and General Ortiz across from him and joined in their discussion.
Jasmine strained to listen, but through the clattering plates, she heard only a few words.
Battalion… Napoleon… war…
Contracts.
Servants brought forth the first course, and Jasmine focused on her soup—a tasteless clear broth.
Her eyes trailed to Matthew. Poised and professional, he mastered the conversation. She couldn’t hear them over the sound of Lord Rothwell’s muttering.
“It’s deplorable that Lord Bolderwood has brought tradesmen and bastards. It reflects poorly on our entire nation.”
“They’re here under our invitation, and they’re my friends,” Jasmine snipped. “Mr. Sanderson is a gentleman, Mr. Reeves is a war hero, and Lord Lincolnshire is a viscount—same as you,Lord Rothwell.”
“Unable to tend to his own land and has towork? Building weapons.” He scoffed. “It’s obscene, and insulting. Lord Lincolnshire isnotthe same as me. You should be more discerning with yourfriends, Lady Jasmine.”
Don Lorenzo perked up at the name. He leaned forward, speaking around her to Lord Rothwell.
“That is theLincolnshire Slayer?The one with”—he pursed his lips as he searched for the word. Giving up, he twirled his finger near his head—“el pelo rizado.”
“Yes, with thecurlyhair,” Lord Rothwell said.
“Are the rumors of him true?”
“They aren’t,” Jasmine cut in. It didn’t matter which rumor he was referring to.“None of it is true.”
Ignoring her, Lord Rothwell responded, “He’s worse than the rumors make him out to be. He’s a libertine, and corrupt down to his core.”
Don Lorenzo laughed. “I like him already.”
The servants brought forth the next course. Lamb seasoned with rosemary and garlic—one of Jasmine’s favorites—but it brought her no fulfillment. She picked at her food, moving it around her plate with her fork. Between the sounds of chewing and clinking flatware, conversation quieted, allowing Matthew’s words to be heard clear across the table.
“We are more than capable of supplying your needs,” Matthew said. “Not only rifles, we’re working with Duke Kendall to expand his specialty interests, and are exploring other weaponry. Whatever you have in mind, we can satisfy it.”
“Are you propositioning a gentleman across the dinner table, Lord Lincolnshire?” An older, pudgy man scoffed. “There are better times to discuss business!”
“I am propositioning a general across the dinner table, Lord Stretton. We are at war,” Matthew replied. “There is never a more appropriate time to discuss the topic. As I’m sure General Ortiz would agree, time is of the essence. Every battle lost is a tragedy.”