And she needed information.
Jasmine spoke to Cassandra. “Tell Matthew I am his—no one else’s.”
Cassandra gasped. “Jasmine, you cannot agree to this!”
Before Cassandra could protest further, Jasmine turned to Mama. “Tell Duke Kendall I accept his invitation. Have Minnie prepare my black satin dress.”
“Black?” Mama’s horrified gasp matched Cassandra’s. “You cannot wear black to a ball!”
“Not justanyball, Mama. Duke Kendall wants a beautiful jewel on his arm tonight.” Jasmine smirked. “Let’s see how he likes obsidian.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Ah, my constant companion.Scorn.
Whispers followed Matthew as he made the rounds in Duke Kendall’s ballroom. The small favor he had gained from his societal rise in Almack’s evaporated. As far as society was concerned, he was no more than a rake who had strung Lady Jasmine along for a week and then abandoned her.
Ladies in gemstone-colored dresses and sparkling baubles smothered the room, vastly outnumbering the men. Every unmarried Miss in London wished for her own Cinderella story, while single gentlemen circled, waiting to pick up Duke Kendall’s scraps. Keeping his head on a swivel, Matthew searched for his sisters.
Around him, servants walked by in purple velvet livery, carrying silver trays of sandwiches, biscuits, and candied fruits. His stomach growled. He plucked a ham sandwich from one tray, then a macaroon from another, but the bite-sized refreshments did little to sate his appetite.
He had missed dinner.
General Ortiz had requested a tour of the factory that afternoon, and it ran late into the evening. Contracts were well underway, but the success of having such a big client felt empty. The chase was over, and now all it meant was more paperwork.
As he walked the ballroom, the heat of someone’s gaze burned through him, pulling him from his thoughts. Lifting his eyes, he met Rothwell’s sneer. Matthew returned the expression with equal vitriol.
The damned ingrate. He shouldthankme.
Although Rothwell had no financial concerns, his social currency was worthless. When Matthew’s family fought, they attacked as a pack. Blackmoor went digging and struck gold. Well-to-do peers might have outstanding debts at a gentlemen’s club or two, but Rothwell held unpaid house accounts at multiple brothels. And thanks to Honora and Caroline, everyone in thetonknew which ones.
The strike to Rothwell’s reputation wouldn’t heal quickly. He held his nose high, but even from a distance Matthew could tell it was crooked. The bruising had faded, but every time Rothwell looked in the mirror, he would think of Jasmine’s fist colliding with his face.
That was consolation, if nothing else.
Not finding his sisters in the crowd, he settled in a space next to the wall, with a clear view of the entrance. He took a glass of punch from a passing footman. The liquid coated his tongue with a spike of sugar-sweetened rum and citrus. Not enough alcohol to make him drunk, unfortunately, but it gave him something to do with his hands. Tapping his fingertips against the glass to the rhythm of the music, he closed his eyes and listened to the melody of strings and flutes.
Calming himself, he took a deep breath.
And smelled cloves.
Matthew opened his eyes and suppressed a groan.
Don Lorenzo stood next to him as if they were old friends. The Spaniard had embraced the spirit of the ball, with gold rings adorning each of his fingers and a diamond stud in his left ear. He preened like a peacock in a sapphire-blue tailcoat, with a court sword fashioned to his belt.
Flashy, but useless.
“Buenas noches, Lord Lincolnshire. I’ve been trying to speak with you, but you’re never alone.” He made a show of looking around. “Where are your beautiful sisters?”
Matthew sipped from his glass and pretended the other man wasn’t there.
Don Lorenzo chuckled.
“You are as ruthless as they say.” He leaned forward with a mischievous grin. “What you did to Lord Rothwell was a work of art. A costly mistake, was it not?”
Matthew gritted his teeth.
“How fortunate you earned it back in one day. I heard all about your acquisition this morning. I should congratulate you. General Ortiz is purchasing weapons from you—and at the quite the sum.” Don Lorenzo lowered his voice. “It’s a shame the contract wasn’t awarded to someoneSpanish.”