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

by Lower, Becky

  His eyes blinked as he regarded her. “You make a valid point. I think it’s admirable that you’re taking something you’re good at, and turning it into a business venture that will, hopefully, make you a lot of money. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

  “My sisters always wondered why, with so much injustice in the world, I couldn’t get involved. But their causes weren’t exciting to me. Fashion is where I fit. But enough of me, for the moment. Tell me, how’s the little colt?”

  “Ah, he’s an absolute prize. Parr’s already getting him used to being handled, and his form is beautiful.”

  “Have you chosen a name for him yet?”

  “I have. And you came up with it. He is well suited to be called Blaze of Glory, since that’s how he will cross the finish line in a few years. In a blaze of glory. We’ll call him Blaze.”

  Jasmine’s heart jumped and she wove her gloved hands together in excitement. Alistair had selected one of her names for the horse, and that could only mean he approved of her, and would welcome her as a potential partner in his life and in his bed.

  “How exciting. I can’t wait now to see him blaze across the finish line.”

  What Alistair said next made her heart jump again, for an entirely different reason.

  He locked eyes with her, and said softly, “Perhaps we can find even more that excites you, in the next few weeks.” He dropped his gaze again to her swell of exposed bosom.

  As Alistair turned to speak to her father, an outbreak of butterflies appeared in Jasmine’s stomach. But unlike the torrent of emotion she found herself in the middle of when Parr’s hot hands raked over her, these butterflies made her uneasy. She lowered her fan. What was wrong with her? She was exactly where she was supposed to be, rightfully beside the handsome, if somewhat older, Viscount of Foxborough. The way the theatregoers responded to seeing them together made her well aware what a coup this was. And he was expressing an unveiled interest in getting to know her better. More intimately. She glanced across the men to gauge her mother’s reaction. Charlotte was actually glowing, and couldn’t keep the smile from her face as she waved hello to friends and acquaintances.

  As the house lights dimmed in preparation for the theatrical performance, Jasmine thought about Alistair’s hands on her bosom. Love would come, she was certain of it. All she had to do was get through the next few weeks, until he was totally besotted with her and would do anything for her. She’d let him paw at her to his heart’s content.

  She’d probably even enjoy it. Lord knows, she had welcomed Philippe’s bold moves last year. They made her body hum in a way it never had before. And Parr’s kisses in the stable stall rocked her back on her heels. She had never experienced such emotion before. Just thinking about their torrid encounter caused her core to ache. She squirmed in her seat as she thought about becoming more familiar with Alistair. She’d welcome his advances, to a point. But she wouldn’t be so bold as Lydia Smith and invite Alistair to bed her. At least not until he proposed to her and placed a huge ring on her finger. Love would come. Wouldn’t it?

  • • •

  Alistair had to admit, he’d enjoyed himself this evening. He brushed his chin with a hand as he waited for the driver to open the door to his carriage, which had stopped in front of his house. The lights were on in the house, and, as the butler opened the door for him, he mentally began to tally the way this evening had gone to evenings he had shared with Lydia Smith. He dropped into a chair in the library, poured a brandy, and lit a cheroot. As he sniffed the amber liquid swirling in the glass, he compared the two women.

  True enough, Lydia had provided him with heart-pumping sexual excitement from the moment they first met. And she lived up to the expectations she set, as she was superb in bed. Maybe the whisperings about her husband’s demise so soon after they married were true, and she had enticed him to the point where his heart gave out. What a way to go, Alistair thought. His cock swelled within his dress pants as he recalled the last evening he’d shared with Lydia, before she left to aid her sister in her late-stage pregnancy. The memory of that encounter would have to sustain him until she returned, in three weeks’ time. He ground his teeth as he counted the days. Alistair was certain he would not be ending his evenings with Jasmine in the same fashion, regardless of how often they got together.

  First, she had to have a chaperone everywhere she went. Tonight it was her parents, so he couldn’t even hold her hand without having George raise an eyebrow at him. And two days hence, when she arrived here to go riding with him, he was certain she’d have her lady’s maid, Colleen, with her. And that one had the eyes of a hawk, so there’d be no sneaking off for a coupling, such as what he’d shared with Lydia last week. With a groan, he rubbed his hands over his eyes to banish thoughts of Lydia and her lush curves from his mind. For the time being, anyway.

  Second, where Lydia used coquetry that made him wild with desire, mixing it with stimulating conversation that made him respect her mind as well, Jasmine could not. Lydia retained control of her late husband’s considerable fortune, and managed the various investments on her own, rather than employing a solicitor. Therefore, her knowledge of current events and businesses matched his own, a point he highly respected. On the other hand, Jasmine’s attempts at seduction were amusing at best. Only when she forgot she was trying to forge a union between them and talked about her vision for her fashion business did she become even remotely interesting.

  She would probably be a very successful businessperson, as long as her brother took care of the books and left her to what she was good at — design and marketing. Her gown this evening had garnered many a compliment, and when she told the ladies they could buy one similar to it from her shop, she assured herself of having a successful opening. Plus, she had the added incentive of revenge working for her, since Philippe Louboutin had stolen her initial boot design and was passing it off as his own. Alistair smiled as he took a sip of brandy. Poor French bastard. He didn’t know the maelstrom that was coming his way.

  Third, there was the not-so-small matter of her father and their business partnership. Alistair realized that he needed George Fitzpatrick as much as George needed him. Even though Alistair had now met some of the most influential families, and was invited on social excursions without the Fitzpatricks, he must not rely solely on his English title to get ahead here. His racetrack needed the backing of New York’s elite society, and George held the key to the club. If Alistair overstepped in his relationship with Jasmine, George would not look upon it lightly. The over-protective feeling that George had toward his daughters was a mantle he wore proudly. Alistair had best remember to tread lightly.

  He was interrupted in his musings by Parr, who’d let himself into the house once he had taken care of the horses that had drawn the carriage. He knocked on the library door and entered the room.

  “You’re up late, Parr. I thought you’d be long abed by now, and leave the horses to the driver to take care of.”

  “No, I was waiting up to talk to you. Should have done it a couple days ago, but I kept chickening out.”

  That got his attention. “What is it, Parr? Has one of the horses gone lame?”

  “No, this has naught to do with horseflesh. It has to do with Miss Fitzpatrick.”

  Alistair sat up straighter and lifted his brandy glass to his lips. He definitely hadn’t seen this conversation coming.

  “Sit then, and tell me about Miss Fitzpatrick. Did she do or say something during your riding lessons with her?”

  “No, sir, but she did buy me a new cap.” He removed the tweed cap as he sat down and placed it on Alistair’s desk.

  “It’s a nice cap, Parr, and I’d say that was the least she could do to pay you back for your hard work. I know she couldn’t have been an easy student.”

  Parr dropped his eyes to the cap and said nothing.

  “Well, ge
t on with it. What did she do?”

  Parr rolled his shoulders. “It’s not what she did, sir. It’s what I did. I kissed her.”

  That really got his attention. Jasmine was not one to dispense with kisses without reason. He rolled the cheroot in his fingers. “I see. And how did she react?”

  Parr dropped his gaze. “Ah, she slapped me, as well she should have. It won’t ever happen agin, sir. I overstepped, and I’m sorry.”

  “Are you interested in the woman?”

  Parr shot him a quick glance. Just by the way Parr stared at him, Alistair answered his own question. The boy had it bad for Jasmine. He took another sip of his brandy.

  “Why shouldn’t it happen again, if you’re interested in her, and court her appropriately? She’s a young, single woman, closer in age to you than to me.”

  Parr stood up. “For many reasons. I’m but a simple stable boy to her, regardless of how many times she hears that we are partners. And you’re the one she wants, not me. She told me as much. I would never do anything that would get between us. As I said, I overstepped in the heat of the moment, and it won’t happen agin.”

  Alistair stared at his brandy. There was heat between them? He had not yet seen that side of Jasmine. Interesting.

  “All right then, Parr. Thank you for telling me. Miss Fitzpatrick hasn’t mentioned anything of the incident to me yet, but if she does, I now have the facts at my disposal. Get a move on now, and get to bed. We’re training Big Red in the morning to break from the starting line, so you need to be fresh.”

  “Thank you, Alistair, for not sacking me because of what I’ve done.” Parr grabbed his cap and placed it back on his head before he scurried from the room.

  Alistair now had even more to think about. True enough, he needed a temporary companion to fill the void left behind by Lydia. And, for the time being, it would be Jasmine, despite the lack of any heat between them. Perhaps he should try for a kiss, same as Parr, just to see if he responded the same as the lovesick lad he’d just seen before him. That provided another wrinkle in the equation.

  No, she was a placeholder for Lydia, nothing more. If she thought there was more to the relationship than was there, that couldn’t possibly be held against him. After all, he’d had numerous young ladies try to replace his deceased wife before he left England, and, while they may have built up the relationships in their heads, he was still loyal to his wife, and the sacrifice she had made for him.

  Alistair stood and walked to the bookshelves, to the portrait of his late wife. Catherine had been beautiful and all he ever wanted, and she was gone, because he’d gotten her with child. He’d never forgive himself. He sighed softly as he ran a finger down her painted cheek.

  He had no plans to marry anytime soon, and put a woman into that precarious position again. No, Lydia would do quite nicely, since she merely wanted a suitable companion at various society functions and a decent lover in her bed. Alistair’s chest puffed out as he realized he was more than adequate on both counts.

  His thoughts turned to Parr. He owed it to the Irish lad to make a go of their partnership, and to build his stable into something they could both be proud of. Hell, he owed Parr a lot more than a good future. But for now, that would be enough. Using Parr’s grey horse as a stud, they would soon host a barn full of thoroughbreds that would solidify their reputations in the racing community.

  He loved the look of the new colt, Blaze. But the next colt, which would be the result of Grey and one of his mares, would be far superior to Blaze, and he couldn’t wait to get started. That was what was truly important. Matches between horses, rather than matches between men and women. He’d talk to Parr in the morning about it.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Parr turned from his work as footsteps signaled Alistair’s approach to the stable. They’d spent a long morning together, teaching a horse to break from the starting line at the sound of a gunshot without rearing up at the noise. He was now in the paddock with another of the horses, and a long lead rope. Even though the two-year-old was familiar with him, and welcomed his touch when they were in the stalls, being out in the open with the rambunctious stallion was a challenge. He had to learn to walk, trot, and canter on command, and the horse was wanting none of it. Parr welcomed the break and crossed to Alistair’s side.

  “Top o’ the morning to you, Alistair.”

  “Looks as if you’ve got your hands full there.”

  Parr’s gaze moved back to the horse. “Aye, but he’s a beauty. ’Twill be a pleasure to get on his back.”

  “Speaking of beauties, I wanted to talk to you about Grey. Let’s go into the stable and strategize over who we want to pair him with for our first joint venture.”

  Parr’s heart began to race. This was the reason Alistair originally teamed up with him, and he was eager to get their partnership solidified. Together they moved into the warm barn. Parr took off his cap and ran his fingers through his dark hair. He brushed the gray tweed cap before he set it back on his head, simply so he could feel the richness of the fabric. Such a fine cap.

  Alistair stood in the middle of the barn, in the large center aisle made of cobblestones, and drew in a deep breath. “I always enjoy the smells of a barn. Hay, horses, and dung. To me, it’s a better scent than any woman’s finest perfume.”

  Parr smiled. “Now you know why I won’t take you up on your offer to move into the house.” He turned his back to Alistair as he ran a hand down the nearest horse, hoping Alistair wouldn’t notice his slight excited tremble. “I didn’t even ask you last night how your evening with Miss Fitzpatrick went. Did you have a good time?”

  Alistair gave him a quick glance. “Yes, I did, but she’s no Lydia Smith.”

  Parr shrugged and released a slow breath. “Maybe she’s not got the same manner that Mrs. Smith does, but she’s a lovely woman all the same.”

  Alistair clamped his hand on Parr’s shoulder as he laughed. “No, she’s definitely not in the same manner as Mrs. Smith, but you’re right. She’s a lovely young, impetuous woman. I enjoy her company, especially when she starts talking about her business plans.”

  “And what is she saying about her business plans?”

  Alistair smiled. “She plans to draw and quarter that poor French cobbler who stole her boot design.”

  Parr grinned. “Ah, good on her.”

  “And it’s my understanding that you helped her with that design. Is that correct?”

  “The first one she drew, aye. After that, though, they were all her own. I merely pointed out a few things that were essential in any riding boot.”

  “Well, possibly after her business takes off, we should approach her about some kind of fee to be paid to you, since you gave her sound, practical advice. She owes you that, at least.”

  Parr took a step away from Alistair before he replied. “No, the girl owes me naught.” He brought his eyes back to Alistair. “So, I take it you’ll be seeing her agin?”

  “Yes. In fact, she is coming out here to go riding with me tomorrow. She’ll do nicely until Lydia returns from Virginia. But I digress. Let’s talk horses instead of women.”

  Parr raced to his quarters to get the breeding book. Aye, talk of horses was far better than talk of Jasmine filling in for Mrs. Smith. Especially since Parr had little doubt how Alistair and Mrs. Smith passed their time together. He turned and began to walk down the aisle of the barn, looking at each horse.

  “I was thinking that the chestnut mare, Dolly, would be a good match for Grey. Let me show you why.”

  Together, they walked toward the horse, all thoughts of Jasmine left behind. At least, Parr hoped, that was the case with Alistair. As for himself, she had not been far from his thoughts since the day they met.

  • • •

  Charlotte placed the long list of items to be purchased back in her reticule w
ith a sigh. “I need to stop at the closest tea room and sit for a few minutes, Jasmine. I’m not as young as I used to be.”

  “But isn’t it exciting, Mother? I mean, in all the years we’ve been shopping together, we’ve never come to the warehouse district before. All these wonderful treasures were under our noses all this time, and we didn’t even know it. Have you ever seen such an assortment of beads in your life?” She ran her hand through a bin of red glass beads as she talked. “Thank God for Blake’s suggestions. But all right, let’s take a break.”

  As they ordered their tea, Charlotte turned to the window, where she spied the carriage with all their purchases piling up inside. Robert, the groomsman, was patiently waiting for them, and guarding all the goods. She faced her daughter.

  “While I appreciate you spending some time with me, dear, this shopping excursion is exhausting, to say the least. You’ve been working so diligently with Colleen, and you two have your heads together constantly as you discuss this new venture of yours. I must admit I’ve been a bit jealous of how close you’ve become. I haven’t had much of a chance to talk strategy with you about the viscount. What are your plans?”

  Jasmine waited to answer as the tea and scones were served.

  Charlotte poured the aromatic liquid into graceful china cups. She took a sip. “Ah, Grey’s Tea. My new favorite.” She turned her attention back to her daughter. “So?”

  “My new business is a part of my grand scheme, Mother. Alistair appreciates a woman with a strong mind, one who can follow his line of thought when he discusses business, so what better way to win his admiration than to set up my own company? Already, he’s taken a keen interest in what I have planned. And once you and I finish buying all the adornments that we need for the shop, Colleen and I can begin setting up the space the way we want it. We should be ready for business within a couple of days. All my friends are asking when they can come and visit.”