One by one, Matthew’s family members made their way into the house, but Jasmine stayed behind in the yard.
“You should go with them,” he said. “Blackmoor will protect you. You needn’t fear—”
“Am I in danger, Matthew?”
“Of course not!” His stomach lurched at the thought. “I willneverletanyonehurt you.”
“Then I won’t be afraid.” Jasmine reached for him, and he took a step away. She grabbed his hand and pulled him to her. Cupping his face in her hands, she lifted on her toes and pressed her lips to his cheekbone.
“A kiss for a king.”
Her tender touch filled his heart, and he wanted to kiss her lips and hold her. When she slipped from him, he followed her. Wrapping his arms around her, he buried his face in the crook of her shoulder.
“I don’t want you to leave.”
Jasmine threaded her fingers through his hair and held him close.
“It’s not for forever,” she whispered, and the yearning in her voice nearly broke him. “Be early to the assembly on Wednesday. I want to dance with you.”
“I’ll be there,” he promised.
After one more squeeze, she released him. He ached from herabsence and always—always—watching her walk away. Jasmine offered a small wave before she disappeared into the house, leaving Matthew alone. The wind whistled in his ears, the sky darkened with the threat of rain, but he walked back to the range.
He needed to practice.
Chapter Sixteen
“Ow!”
A drop of blood welled at the tip of Jasmine’s finger, and she pressed it to her lips. The taste of iron filled her mouth as she stemmed the bleeding from the needle prick.
“Don’t do that. Use a cloth,” Mother said from the other side of the room. “And a thimble.”
Jasmine removed her finger from her mouth. Using a thimble was worse.
On this Tuesday, Cassandra, Caroline, and Lady Worthing—who asked Jasmine to call her Honora—arrived promptly at eleven. They brought with them their children, and—to Jasmine’s horror—a velvet workbag filled with threads, needles, and a heap of baby gowns and handkerchiefs.
All ready to be embroidered.
Perched on the settee in her second-floor sitting room, she pushed a needle and thread through linen. She tried to concentrate on her task, but her attention kept traveling to the corner of the room, where Caroline played the pianoforte.
A chorus of giggles accompanied her music.
In front of her, Rose and George played with wooden blocks in the shape of farm animals. Jasmine had never expected to see Mother on the floor—pretending to be a horse. She entertained the children like a puppeteer, and the sweetness of the scene broke Jasmine’s heart.
Did she play like that with me too?
“What are you embroidering, Jasmine?” Cassandra asked.
Jasmine flushed and held the fabric close to her chest. “A handkerchief.”
After seeing Matthew so defeated the day before, she wanted to do something nice for him. She meant to monogram his initials on a handkerchief, but the children could have done a better job. So far, she had only managed a red-threaded, chicken-scratchedMin one corner.
“I’m nearly done with mine.” Cassandra lifted a white silk infant day gown. Whimsical daisies decorated the hem and half of the neckline.
Jasmine peeked at Honora’s work. With efficient movements, Honora threaded a white vine into the hem of a simple infant gown.
“Are you doing that for Cassandra, Honora?” Jasmine asked.