The Tempestuous Debutante: Book 4 in the Cotillion Ball Series (Crimson Romance) (3 page)

“’Tis only my quarters, cailín. Nothing for you to see.”

Jasmine turned and peeked up at him from under her lashes. Long lashes, he noticed. “You mean, you live out here with the horses?”

“’Tis not so unusual, is it? Besides, ’tis warm and cozy, and I’m near my livestock, should any of them need me.”

He and Jasmine stared at each other for a long moment before they both turned at the sound of Alistair Wickersham and George Fitzpatrick returning from the field. Grateful for the interruption, Parr blew out a long breath. ’Twould not pay for him to be alone with this young cailín for too long. No good would come of it.

Alistair enjoyed George Fitzpatrick’s company immensely. However, he was not fond of the predatory gleam in his daughter’s eyes. Or her mother’s, for that matter. The daughter’s eyes devoured him as if he was a scrumptious dessert and she had a sweet tooth. He had seen enough of her type in England, which was one of the reasons why he’d chosen to come to America. He supposed women in America were no different from women in England. All mothers wanted their daughters to marry well, and the young ladies who were raised in society did expect a certain lifestyle to be maintained. He could not really fault the women. But it was too early after the death of his wife to want to embroil himself in another relationship. And to put another woman’s health in peril.

Acknowledging that his temporary respite from the machinations of society was at an end, he blew out a soft breath. He supposed being in Miss Fitzpatrick’s presence was going to be the cost of doing business with her father. He gave her a sidelong glance and smiled slightly at her impromptu invitation as they walked alongside her parents and Parr from the stable to the waiting carriage.

“Of course, I’d love to join your family for dinner later this week,” he replied.

She clapped her hands together. “Ooh, good. Mother, can we host Mr. Wickersham tomorrow evening?”

Charlotte patted her daughter’s hand. “No, not tomorrow. Your father and I have been invited to the Harper residence for dinner. Perhaps on Friday?” she asked Alistair.

“I, too, have been invited to the Harpers’s tomorrow night. I’ll need to look at my calendar before I can commit to dinner on Friday. Can we discuss it further at the Harpers’s?”

“Oh, how lovely. We will look forward to seeing you tomorrow evening, then, Mr. Wickersham.” Charlotte dipped her head slightly before she turned and was assisted into the carriage.

Jasmine smiled up at him. “Until we meet again, sir.” She extended her hand to him, palm-side down, as if expecting him to kiss it. Alistair held the hand firmly as he helped the annoying young woman step up into the carriage.

As the vehicle pulled away, he turned to Parr. “So, were the ladies much trouble for you?”

“No, they kept me amused. Although the daughter is a bit of a handful. Did you make some headway with Mr. Fitzpatrick?”

“Yes, he now sees our vision. I explained about our partnership, but he need be the only one who knows, if that’s what you prefer.”

“The women assumed you were my employer, partly because I’m sleeping in the stable. Which is fine with me. They dinna need to know our arrangement, and until I can make enough money from the purses on our horses to become an equal partner financially, I’m happy to let them think I’m merely the stable boy.”

Alistair clamped him on the shoulder. “If that’s the way you want it, fine. But we both know this venture would be lost without your special way with the horses.”

“For the love of God, the last thing I’d be wanting is to have to sit through fancy dinners, dressed to the nines, and make small talk with simple women. No, Alistair, I’ll leave that chore up to you, and gladly. I’d rather be talking to me horses any day.”

Alistair grinned. “I have to admit, on many occasions, I’ve found a horse better company than society women myself. Especially the ones who have never read a book in their lives. Such as Miss Fitzpatrick.”

“I’m not so sure about that one,” Parr replied. “She’s definitely spoiled, and doesn’t think before she talks, but I believe the girl is far more clever than she lets on.”

As the two men walked toward the house for their supper, Alistair replied, “Well, hopefully we won’t have to deal with her too much.” He turned to Parr, but couldn’t read his expression. “Right, Parr?”

He shrugged. “Aye, right you are. Best to leave that one to her kind, men who don’t demand much from their women, other than that they are pretty.”

Alistair raised an eyebrow at Parr’s remark, feeling as though he missed something, but wasn’t quite sure what it might be.

• • •

“I don’t understand why I can’t go with you and Papa to the Harpers’s tonight!” Jasmine pouted as she poured tea for herself and her mother the following afternoon. “It’s merely a dinner party, not a formal affair.”

Her mother blew out a long breath. “Dear Lord, Jasmine, you’ll be the death of me. It is for precisely that reason that you can’t come. It’s a dinner party, not a soirée. An equal number of men and women have been invited, and the seating arrangements have been made. You know how society works, and quit pretending you don’t. It would be highly inappropriate for us to bring an uninvited guest along, even if you are our daughter.”

Jasmine strode around the room, a bundle of nervous energy. Her slippers whispered across the floor. She wished she were wearing boots instead, so her feet could make some noise. “Alistair said nothing about bringing a guest, so he’ll be sitting next to an empty chair. A chair I could be filling.”

“Please, dear. Refer to him properly, even in private. He’s Mr. Wickersham, not Alistair. And you don’t know that he’ll be sitting alone. I’m sure Edith Harper has found a single woman to occupy the chair next to him.”

Jasmine was pushing this conversation too far and could tell it was upsetting her mother, but she couldn’t stop herself. After all, she had a very tight timeline to work with. April was only a few months away and she wanted a ring from the viscount by then. She couldn’t miss any opportunity to further her cause.

Her mother continued. “Mr. Harper is a real estate developer, so I’m quite certain he’s the one who assisted Mr. Wickersham in finding the property in the Bronx. And while you’re right that he just moved here permanently, did it not occur to you that he’s undoubtedly made several preliminary trips here, to buy his property and build that magnificent stable? That didn’t happen overnight, you know.”

Jasmine finally plopped down into a chair and groaned. “So, he may have known the Harpers for as long as a year?”

“Quite possibly.”

“And I’m certain that awful woman, Mrs. Harper, has wasted no time in finding someone to pair him up with, so she can brag about it. You know how she likes to claim herself as a consummate matchmaker. The viscount may be harder to snare than I originally thought.” Jasmine chewed her bottom lip as she began to strategize. “This might throw my whole plan into jeopardy, then. I thought no one was aware of him but our family, and that I could have a few months to get to know him without the distraction of the rest of society.”

Her mother reached over and patted her hand. “I know, dear, and that is what I want for you as well, but that’s evidently not the reality of the situation. I assume his visits up until now have been all business, which is why we haven’t met him before. But since he has moved here permanently, and has a house and staff, he’ll start entertaining. Just because the Viscount of Foxborough is new to us doesn’t mean he’s not already been accepted into New York society. Say what they will in public about not being impressed by titles. In private, you know every man wants to align their fortunes with him, and every mother wants to pair him up with their daughters.” She brushed an imaginary wrinkle from her soft wine-colored wool afternoon dress.

“Not that I consider myself in the same category as every other mother. When it comes to you girls, my matchmaking skills are above reproach. Your father is a powerful and distinguished figure in this city, but I’m quite certain Alistair Wickersham would not be turned away from society if your father weren’t there. We’re probably in for a battle if you’ve already set your sights on him.”

Jasmine sighed. She was not at all happy with the way things had developed yesterday at the stable. The mere fact that she’d been left with that odious stable boy while Alistair and her father were out roaming around in some great field angered her. She’d assumed her appearance would be enough to capture his interest, even before she opened her mouth. True enough, he was a tad older than she had hoped for, and his hair was thinning on top, but she could live with that. He was handsome, in a highbred English sort of fashion.

The way he peered down his finely shaped nose excited her instead of causing her dismay. She had stared into his pale blue eyes, looking for a spark of interest, but he’d kept his feelings for her, if he had any, hidden during their time together. Exactly the type of response she would expect from a member of England’s ruling class. He would not wear his heart on his sleeve, as so many American men did.
And French men, for that matter
, she thought with a smile, as she remembered the cobbler, Philippe Louboutin’s, advances on her last year. No, she was not pleased with yesterday’s events. She needed another chance to capture Alistair’s elusive attention. And the sooner, the better.

The next evening, Alistair Wickersham alighted from his horse at the same moment the Fitzpatricks pulled up at the door to the Harper residence. He adjusted his cravat as he waited for George and Charlotte Fitzpatrick to descend from their carriage.

“How nice to see you again.” He bowed low over Charlotte Fitzpatrick’s hand, and then clasped hands with George. “I’m looking forward to this dinner, and becoming better acquainted with more of your friends.”

“Yes, I think Charles Gray will be here this evening. I’m especially keen for you to meet him. He knows good horseflesh when he sees it, so he’d love to come to your home and see what you’ve got in your stable.”

As they talked on the sidewalk, Alistair listened to the conversation with half an ear. The other half picked up more horse’s hooves coming down the street, and he turned to watch as a graceful black carriage pulled up to the front door. A lone woman — the loveliest woman Alistair had come across in New York — climbed down from the conveyance. He was immediately drawn to her beautiful red hair and her porcelain skin. His curiosity was piqued.

“Who is that, Mrs. Fitzpatrick?” He motioned with his head to the woman, who was making her way into the house. The dark brown mantle around her shoulders enabled her burnished locks to take on an even brighter sheen. From what he could see of her dress underneath the mantle, the color was a vivid shade of purple. The hat adorning her head was a confection of deep purple and brown flowers with a jaunty purple feather. He preferred women who weren’t afraid of vivid colors. They usually had bold personalities to match. Alistair was immediately drawn to her.

Charlotte glanced at the woman, and quickly turned to Alistair. “Oh dear, why ever would Mrs. Harper invite Mrs. Smith to her dinner party?”

Alistair’s heart immediately sank. “Mrs. Smith? So the woman is married? Where is her husband, then?”

Charlotte shook her head. “No, not married. She’s a widow. She’d only been married to her husband for six months when he died. So tragic. But she caused a scandal since she didn’t go into mourning for the requisite year. Instead, she livened up the dance floor during the season, stealing the hearts of many a young man. It was as if her signature musk perfume that she gets from France cast a spell over the gents. She’s a lovely young woman, true enough, and I feel sorry for her loss of her husband, but she flaunts the rules of society in our faces. I’m surprised Mrs. Harper would invite her alone to this dinner.”

Alistair breathed a little easier at the pronouncement that the lovely vision who’d just entered the house was a widow. He was eager to get inside and to meet this beauty. And to sniff that musk perfume for himself. “Shall we join the others? I dare say, January temperatures in New York are not to my liking.” He shivered for effect, and shrugged his shoulders.

Together, they walked inside the warm and spacious townhouse. As the men doffed their silk top hats and cloaks, Charlotte unbuttoned her mantle and removed her hat. All were handed off to the servants before Mrs. Harper invited them into the parlor. She flitted around her guests, making certain they all had a drink in their hands.

“Ah, Viscount,” she gushed. “How lovely to see you again. I have someone I’m dying for you to meet. I invited her tonight to be your companion at dinner. Please come with me.” She flicked a smile at Charlotte before she placed her hand on Alistair’s arm and led him to the other side of the room and straight to Lydia Smith.

• • •

As they observed the direction Mrs. Harper was heading with Mr. Wickersham, Charlotte turned to her husband and whispered, “The old busybody! Eloise Harper would just love to be able to gloat that it was she who made a match for the viscount. This does not bode well for Jasmine. She’s in for a royal battle, so to speak.”

“Jasmine, or you, my dear? Has Jasmine even expressed a serious interest in Alistair to you, or are you merely entranced by his title? And isn’t he a bit old for our daughter? Besides, if she has told you she’s interested and you two are orchestrating events to capture his attentions, wouldn’t people accuse you of the same thing you’re accusing Mrs. Harper of?”

“Oh, hush, George. You know I only want the best for my girls. Look how well it worked out with Heather and David.”

George raised an eyebrow. “Need I remind you that Heather spent some time behind bars as a result of that pairing? Admittedly, teaching slaves to read and write in the deep South was rather naïve of her, but it was due to your machinations that she was there in the first place.”

Charlotte turned from him and took a moment to smooth her green silk gown, trimmed in black velvet. She straightened out the fringe that adorned the bodice before she answered. “But now they’re happily married. And that’s what counts. Not the travails they had to wade through to get there. And our eldest daughter Pepper and Michael are so perfectly matched. I only hope for the same for Jasmine. And marrying a titled gentleman from England would do wonders for her standing in society. She’ll be invited to join the best civic organizations, and will rub shoulders with the finest ladies in New York.”