The Tempestuous Debutante: Book 4 in the Cotillion Ball Series (Crimson Romance) (17 page)

“Aren’t you the clever one, Mr. Wickersham, bringing an open carriage, so we’ll need to snuggle close to each other under a blanket?” She flashed her best smile as she settled herself next to him on the seat.

Alistair laughed at her boldness. “I did bring several blankets, so you won’t get chilled on the way there. I know it’s a bit unusual, but I do love having the wind in my face. I’ll admit to a bit of claustrophobia in a closed carriage. Those tiny windows and the skinny door make me unsettled.”

He pulled a blanket out from behind the seat and opened it with a flourish. He laid the blanket over her, taking care to cover her arms. He leaned close to her as he tucked the fabric around her, and gazed into her eyes. Their mouths were mere inches apart. She caught the scent of his sandalwood soap, and the hint of tobacco.

“There. Warm enough?”

She returned his stare. “There’s one more thing you could do to really warm me up, Mr. Wickersham. Or should I say Alistair?” She pulled an arm out from under the cover and wrapped it around the back of his head, pulling him in for a kiss.

He acted a bit surprised at her boldness, but returned the kiss, slanting his lips over hers. The kiss began lightly, feather-soft. Not good enough for her. She was certain his kisses with Lydia Smith were not so tame. She deepened the kiss and moaned slightly, for effect. Alistair wrapped his arms around her and drew her closer to him. This was more like it. His tongue begged entry into her mouth, so she moaned again and allowed him access. The kiss became quite pleasant.

Now that she thought about it, an open carriage might be the best thing that could happen to their relationship. After all, they were still parked in front of her house, and were kissing out in the open. If her parents were watching, they would demand Alistair offer marriage to protect her virtue, having taken such liberties in front of all of New York City.

As they broke apart, Jasmine took a quick glance toward the house, a bit disappointed to see no one at the windows. And the street was empty of spectators. Damnation.

“Well, that was unexpected, Miss Fitzpatrick,” Alistair said as he picked up the reins and began the drive to the restaurant.

“But not unwanted, I hope?” she replied as she ran her hand over her hair.

“Not at all, fair lady. Not at all.” He took the reins in one hand and wrapped his other around her, pulling her close to him. Jasmine didn’t mind the contact, but she also noticed she didn’t feel the frisson she had with Parr. Or even with Philippe. Perhaps there were too many layers of fabric between them. That must be what it was, she was certain of it.

The ride was accomplished in a few short minutes. Alistair pulled up in front of the restaurant and jumped down from the carriage. When he wrapped his hands around Jasmine’s waist, she didn’t feel any fluttering in her stomach. Lord, even Philippe, with all his bad habits, had done more for her sexual appetite than Alistair! She couldn’t help but compare his kiss to the one she shared with Parr. Why hadn’t her reaction been the same? This was the man she desperately wanted to marry, and tonight signaled a major step forward in her efforts. So why did she feel so hollow?

• • •

As they were ushered into a private dining room of the restaurant, Amanda Phillips’s mother came up to Jasmine and Alistair. Mr. Phillips was on the board of directors at the bank, so it came as no surprise they were at this dinner. What Jasmine didn’t expect was to be pulled away for a private chat.

“Jasmine, dear, we’re so excited. And it’s all your doing.”

She searched Mrs. Phillips’s face for a clue, but found nothing. “Are you talking about my new shop?”

“Indirectly, I suppose. After all, it was at your shop where Amanda came into contact again with Blake Morgan. They’ve been seeing each other ever since. We had such hopes for them last year, but then, he thought Heather was a better match … ”

Jasmine smiled slightly. “And we all know her heart was with David all along. Blake was never a real contender for my sister’s heart. I’m glad he and Amanda are seeing each other. I thought all along they belonged together. After all, he towers over her, even with her being so tall. Not many men can do that.”

“It’s not just his height that I’m impressed with. He is a successful businessman, he’s kind and thoughtful. I’ll have you know that the first afternoon he came calling on Amanda, he brought me a bouquet of lovely scented flowers! We are so hoping he’ll propose before the season starts. Amanda is dreading becoming one of the ‘poor unfortunates,’ as she calls them. Walking into the debutante ball with a ring on her finger will be so much better.”

Mrs. Phillips took hold of Jasmine’s hand. “I see you’re of the same mind, with your young man.” She nodded in Alistair’s direction. “Well, maybe not so young, but you get my meaning. Marriage to a viscount, no less. How wonderful for you.”

Jasmine squeezed Mrs. Phillips’s hand. “My relationship with Alistair is moving along, but we’re very far from a proposal yet, I’m afraid. I have hopes for a good outcome, though.”

“You’ll do it, my girl. You’ve always been the kind of woman who gets what she goes after.” Mrs. Phillips gave her a brief hug and left her side. Jasmine wandered over to where Alistair stood with two other gentlemen. She slipped her arm around his.

“Ah, here’s the mastermind behind the bank’s latest venture.” Charles Gray, her father’s dearest friend, placed his hand on Jasmine’s shoulder. “When your father told me of your business plans, I was so impressed. You’ve always had an eye for fashion, and it’s great that you’ve figured out a way to use it to your advantage. Is this lovely creation one of yours?” He motioned to her dress.

“Yes, it is, Mr. Gray.” She ran her hands down the lush silver brocade silk with its subtle feather pattern. It had been adorned at the sleeves and bodice with small black feathers, and her jet-black onyx necklace and earrings complemented her choice of embellishment. “Thank you for noticing. We just finished it this afternoon.”

Jasmine leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. “I never had Ginger’s head for figures, so I’m perfectly content to leave that end of the business to Halwyn, and I’ll handle the creative part. And I’ve already got a celebrity client! Eliza Logan, the Irish actress, wants me to make four exclusive dresses for her. We started today on the first one.”

“I had confidence that you’d make a go of whatever you decided to do.” Mr. Gray glanced around the room before he whispered to her. “Professionally and personally.” His eyes flickered over Alistair before he said, “It looks as if we’re all here now. Shall we take our seats and commence with dinner?”

Was there a hint of disdain as Mr. Gray’s eyes moved over Alistair? Or had Jasmine only imagined it? Coming on the heels of Mrs. Phillips’s remark about his age, Mr. Gray’s expression made her wonder.
Does everyone think I’m interested in Alistair simply because of his title? Perhaps I should be a bit more demonstrative with him at dinner, and squash their foolish notion.

But she had to admit, perhaps it was not such a foolish notion after all.

• • •

If Alistair’s purpose in escorting Jasmine to tonight’s dinner was to cause a stir, he certainly succeeded. And not just with her, although she was far more bold tonight than she had been to date. But he caught the veiled glimpses from behind the ladies’ fans. Clearly, they thought he was risking scandal by merely being seen with someone so much younger than himself. Or maybe they were simply jealous that it was not their own darling daughter who was on his arm. Either way, he struggled against their reactions all evening. When the men in the room caught his eye, he found their responses equally unsettling, as they nodded their approval with wicked smiles on their faces, or outright winks in his direction. They might agree with their wives that he was a dirty old man, but their expressions told him each and every one would be more than willing to trade places with him.

The ride back to the Fitzpatrick home was a fairly subdued affair, after the kiss that began their evening. Jasmine seemed content to merely wrap her arm around his as he steered the horses down the street. She laid her head on his shoulder and together they listened to the muffled night noises from the streets of New York.

He tied up the horses at the hitching post outside the home and helped Jasmine down from the carriage. As he caught her around the waist and lifted her to the street, her body brushed up against his. Again, his nether regions remained stoic. He bent down and captured her lips, plundering her mouth once again. She placed her hands on his shoulders and sighed softly, but was quick to break the contact.

“Please, Mr. Wickersham, we’re in the middle of the sidewalk!” She pulled away from him slightly.

“You didn’t seem to mind that we were in the open at the beginning of the evening when we kissed.”

“It’s one thing to be under a blanket in a proper carriage. It’s quite another to be brazenly groping each other on the street.”

Alistair laughed and pulled her to him again for another languid kiss. Still no reaction from his body. If this had been Lydia, he would not have been able to walk her to the door without bodily pain. He drew back, and took her arm as they made their way to her front door. She turned toward him as they reached the landing, brushed his cheek with a kiss, thanked him for the wonderful evening, and darted inside.

Well, this wasn’t Lydia, it was Jasmine. As Alistair began his ride home, he let himself think of her. True enough, she was a pretty girl, and her place in society was secure. He truly enjoyed her parents, and would have no trouble relating to them as in-laws. Perhaps it was not as far-fetched as he’d originally thought for them to wed. And then, after the obligatory heir, if Jasmine rejected his sexual advances, he’d go back to Lydia. He’d discuss the matter with George soon. He knew Jasmine was expecting an offer shortly.

Christ, he wished Lydia’s sister would have her blasted baby so she could return home. Return to him. He could almost smell her musky rose scent as he thought about her, with his swollen manhood between his legs, for the remainder of the ride home.

Parr’s eyes rose from the front of his horse when he caught wind of the footsteps coming into the stable. He was soaking the hoof of the horse in a mixture of Epsom salts and water, and it was hard to keep the horse still. The cure for an abscess was almost as bad as the abscess itself, and the horse wanted none of it. So he didn’t rise from his task. He merely waited to see to whom the footsteps belonged.

His heart stuttered for a moment when he caught sight of a petite form and a head of dark, curly hair. He hadn’t seen Jasmine close up since the night of the colt’s birth. Why was she here?

“Oh, hi, Parr,” she breathed. “What are you doing?”

He rose, finally, from his seat. He didn’t care if the horse overturned his bucket. He needed to get close to Jasmine, and to smell her lavender scent again. He crossed the stall to her side in a few steps. Only the railing remained between them. Best to stay inside the stall and put at least that small measure of safety between them.

“Treating this lazy sod for his abscess. If he weren’t content to just stand around all the time, I don’t think this woulda happened.”

“I stopped by to check on Blaze on my way in. He’s growing up fast.”

“Aye, he’s a pretty fella.” Parr placed his hands on the top railing and held on tightly, to stop himself from vaulting over the stall and sweeping Jasmine into his arms. That would be disastrous, for both of them. If he did something that stupid, he’d have to leave Alistair and their business behind.

“Why are you here?” he croaked.

Jasmine bounced from one foot to the other, before taking up a length of rawhide and running it through her fingers. She was nervous. And all Parr could think about was having those fingers run through his hair instead of the rawhide. She stole a glance up at him through her lashes.

Her long, sooty lashes. He groaned inwardly.

“Papa and Alistair are inside, talking business, but I needed to see you. I, uh, have a couple pieces of news I wanted to share.”

“Are you here to tell me your mission is accomplished and that you are now engaged to Alistair?” He tried, and failed, to keep the anger from his voice. He avoided her stare.

“No. Well, not yet, anyway.”

“Well then, what else could possibly be so earth-shattering that you’d risk coming here, into my stable? You know I’m not to be trusted.”

“Eliza Logan. The actress. Do you know her?”

“Lord, a’ course I do. She’s a legend in Ireland. But how do you know her?”

“Because she came into my shop yesterday and ordered four dresses from me! I offered to make them exclusive to her, and she was thrilled.”

Parr’s head snapped up and he stared into Jasmine’s beautiful chocolate eyes, to see if she was making a joke at his expense. She seemed serious and excited. His manhood responded. He leaned closer.

“How did that happen?”

“Colleen went to the theater where she was performing, and Eliza noticed her gown. So she made an appointment to come to the store the next day. I stayed up all night preparing sketches of dresses for her to look at, based on Colleen’s description of her. But the gowns she ordered are even more luxurious than I imagined. She’s something else.”

“Congratulations then. If you’re dressing Eliza Logan, you’re on your way. See, I told you, cailín, you were capable.”

Jasmine ducked her head. “Yes, you were the first one to believe in me. Thank you, Parr.”

“So, your second bit of news can’t be nearly as good as the first, but I’m eager to hear it.”

“Did Alistair say anything to you about an agreement about the boots?”

“What boots? What are you talking about?”

Jasmine’s cheeks puffed as she held her breath, and then let it go. “I guess he didn’t then. I told him about your part in coming up with the original design of the riding boots, and he said I should give you some kind of fee for each pair that was sold. So, he prepared a document that assures a transfer of funds into your account each month, based on how many pairs of boots we sell.”