The Tempestuous Debutante: Book 4 in the Cotillion Ball Series (Crimson Romance) by Becky Lower Page B

designs for new slippers and boots. Colleen and I met with a cobbler the other day who seems willing to create a few pairs so I can display them in the shop. If I add several gowns to go with them, we should have the making of a nice shop display.”
    As Jasmine continued to lay out the plans for her business, Alistair let his mind wander. Yes, she was lacking in some of the social graces Lydia had mastered. And he was certain Jasmine had no idea how to properly seduce a man. There was something to be said for an older, more seasoned woman. But Lydia was out of town for several weeks, and he needed a partner for his various social obligations. He could do far worse than Jasmine Fitzpatrick. At the very least, she was a step above the other young ladies he’d met, since she didn’t just talk incessantly about the latest bauble or design to emerge from France, but was acting upon her interest by being enterprising. Besides, if he appeared to be smitten with her, matrons with their eligible daughters would leave him be. For the time being, anyway.
    As the dessert plates were cleared away, Alistair took hold of her hand. “Miss Fitzpatrick, I am going to be in town in two days, for a meeting with the bank’s Board of Directors. I was planning to stay after the meeting and attend the theatre. There’s a new musical called
The Elves
that I’ve been meaning to see. I’ve already rented a box for the performance. Would you care to accompany me?”
    Jasmine dipped her head so she could gaze up at him through her lashes, which she batted at him. He had to repress a grin at her behavior.
    “Why, I’d be delighted, Mr. Wickersham.” She smiled up at him.
    He then turned to George. “Perhaps you and Charlotte could join us?”
    “I’ll check with my wife to make certain our calendar is clear. If it is, we’d love to accompany you. I’ll send word around to you tomorrow.”
    Alistair led his guests out of the house and made certain they got on their way without mishap. With the wheels from their carriage spewing up the gravel, he closed the door and went to his library. He poured himself a brandy, lit a cigar, and leaned back in his leather chair. He swirled the pungent, amber liquid in its snifter before he took a sip. Yes, until Lydia returned to New York, Miss Fitzpatrick would do nicely.
    • • •
    Jasmine settled back against the squabs in her father’s sumptuous carriage. The leather seats were cool in the evening air, but she was feeling heated nonetheless. She opened her fan and waved it back and forth for a few minutes, then snapped it shut with a groan of breath. Her father had fallen into a light sleep the minute the carriage pulled away from Alistair’s house and was snoring gently, so she was left alone with her thoughts.
    And those thoughts were rioting out of control. She finally had gotten her wish. Alistair was taking her to the theatre in two days’ time, declaring to all of New York society that he had made a choice in the matrimony department. Lydia Smith might be able to get him into her bed, but she couldn’t get him to the altar. Jasmine could and would. So why was she not over the moon?
    Tears of frustration threatened again, and she opened her fan back up to dry them. She’d be damned if she let another tear fall for Parr. She touched her lips as she recalled their stormy, tempestuous kiss in the stable. What had she been thinking, drawing him back in for another taste after she’d just slapped him for his impudence? What did that say about her? That she, too, was impudent? Tempestuous? Scandalous? Yes, yes, and yes! She placed a hand on her stomach as it rioted out of control. She would have to make certain that, in the future, she spent no time alone with him, since she couldn’t trust herself around him. She was much better off with Alistair, on all accounts.
    First, he was titled. What would Heather and Ginger have to say when she married a viscount? Despite her watery eyes and her