Chapter 2
Dinner in the Winters household was never quiet. There was the adorable six-year-old Jasper constantly slurping his soup just to annoy his eldest sister Jasmine. Juliet always prattled on about topics no one understood and embelished everything. Jasmine tried to stop her brother behaving like a barbarian. Aunt Cathy, who was half deaf, kept shouting nonsensical things across the table whenever she missheard a certain conversation. And finally, the baron and baroness would try at all costs to restore order that would surely never come.
"...And then Miss Everdale tripped on her own two feet and sent a wave of hot tea flying through the air, splashing Mr Merrywether." Juliet spoke.
"Jasper, for the last time, eat your soup like a gentleman." Jasmine hissed.
"I am not a gentleman yet. So I will eat my soup how I want."
"WHAT WAS THAT, BOY?" Aunt Cathy bellowed.
"Please, Cathy," Lady Jane siad to her widowed mother. "You're shouting again. Just eat your soup."
"PAH! THIS SOUP TASTES LIKE BATHWATER. I COULD HAVE MADE BETTER!"
"JASPER!" Jasmine finally yelled.
"JASMINE!" he mocked.
"Is anyone even listening to a word I am saying" Juliet whined.
"I'm not," Jasper snickered.
"THAT'S QUITE ENOUGH!" Lord Gregory bellowed. Instantly, the table fell silent.
Lady Jane sighed in relief. "Now, Jasmine, you have been invited to Lady Dashwood's ball tomorrow evening and I expect you to be on your best behaviour this season. You need to aquire a husband."
"What she means is you're getting too old to live here now," Juliet snickered.
Jasmine sighed. She had purposely avoided the marriage mart and had acted like a wallflower most of the time. "Very well, mother,"
"And incase you are unsuccessful this season, you could always marry Lord Torrington." her father added, a hint of both seriousness and mischief in his eye.
Her face paled. "NO! Anyone but Lord Borington,"
Jasper and Juliet laughed heartily while her mother stifled a giggle. Aunt Cathy remained oddly silent. They were all aware of how Lord Torrington could put people to sleep simply by opening his mouth.
"I had Louisa bring over your dress to your room." Lady Jane said happily. "You're twenty-two, dear. We would have forced you into marriage sometime. And don't pout, Jasmine, it's unbecoming."
Jasmine resisted the urge to roll her eyes at her mother. Now she'd have to act like all the other ladies of the ton: prudish, squeamish, prim. Behaviour befitting a young miss.
Maybe it would be fun.
******
It was not fun.
Jasmine had been introduced to quite a number of eligible bachelors who had so graciousely filled up her dance card. And she'd made a few new friends as well. But what really annoyed her were the dance partners she'd had.
There was one man who continuousely trode on her feet. Then there was the pompous dandy who spoke on and on about his achievements. A few more had danced with her and she'd barely acknowledged them.
Only two had been fantastic dancers and engaged her in proper conversation. Though, they hadn't seemed to be smitten by her. She would have to try harder to get their attention.
Finally, Lord Devonshire, the duke she was currently dancing with.
Even though he tried to flatter her with words, she knew he wasn't interested in marriage. He was a well known rake and if it weren't for society's rules, she wouldn't be dancing with him in the first place.
"Has anyone ever told you your eyes are enchanting?" he asked, a smirk playing on his lips."Their blue depths seem to draw one in,"
Oh, please!
"Why thank you, your grace." Jasmine replied with a fake smile.
"You are a rare beauty. Even your chestnut hair gleams in the candlelight. How have you not been claimed all these years?" As he said this, his hand that was around her waist began to slowly travel lower.
Sensing this, Jasmine discreetly - yet purposely - stomped on his foot. Lord Devonshire bit back a grunt and Jasmine gave him an insincere apology. Thankfully, the song ended and she was escorted to her next partner.
"Evening, Lord Huntingdon," she said, relief laced her greeting.
"Evening," he replied with a knowing grin. "I take it you don't like dancing with the duke,"
As he took Jasmine's gloved hand, she blushed. It was improper for her to make it obvious that she did not like dancing with someone but the duke had gone too far. What if he continued his improper advances? What if he took her innosense? What if...
Her train of thought was cut off by the earl's deep chuckle. Had she spoken out loud?
"I must say, my dear, you have quite the imagination,"
She had.
"I did not mean to speak out of turn," she mumbled as they twirled around the dancefloor.
"Not to worry. I don't quite like him myself."
"Well, I like you already, Lord Huntingdon," she beamed up at him, noticing for the first time how handsome he was and how lovely his brown eyes were.
"Please call me Andrew,"
"You may call me Jasmine,"
From that point, they had talked about nothing and everything as they danced. All else forgotten. But alas, the dance had to come to an end.
"I hope to see you again, Jasmine," Andrew said as he led her to her mother.
"And I you, Andrew,"
She couldn't be sure if he liked her as well but one thing was for sure: she had to catch the attention of three men- especially Lord Huntingdon - if she didn't want to be stuck with Lord Borington.
***88****
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Under The Moonlight
التاريخيةJasmine's attempts to secure a husband during the London season unknowingly attract the attention of Lord Andrew Lockhart, the Earl of Huntingdon. He, on the other hand did not wish to think about marriage. But when his brother is murdered by means...
