The Tempestuous Debutante: Book 4 in the Cotillion Ball Series (Crimson Romance) (7 page)

“Ah,
oui
, a perfect choice, mademoiselle. I’ll get to work on zis right away. But come with me now, I have a special surprise for you.” He began to draw her to the private fitting room.

“I’ll be right back, Colleen,” Jasmine called out. “Why don’t you see if you can find a pair of new shoes for yourself, while you’re here?” She hoped the task of selecting new shoes would occupy Colleen for a few minutes.

As soon as they entered the fitting room, Jasmine helped herself to a piece of French chocolate, which was on hand for all the women who frequented the shop. She nibbled on the decadent candy as the philandering man knelt before her and removed her slipper.

“Now, where did we leave off last season?” His hands cupped her naked foot and he bent over it, kissing her arch. Even though she’d had a mild flirtation with the man last year, and let him kiss her, he was now treating her as if she was some common tart. She pulled her foot away from him. A year away from Philippe had given her a fresh perspective on his behavior and she no longer wanted to play his games.

“Monsieur Louboutin, you are indeed taking far too many liberties with me!”

“
Oui
, mademoiselle, and from your breathing I can tell you are enjoying it.” He moved his hand to her foot again, wrapping it tightly around her ankle.

Again, Jasmine pulled away. Last year, she would have welcomed a dalliance with this exotic man. After all, society ladies near and far flocked to him merely to hear his heavily accented English, and to flirt with him. But since he’d put untested paint on her slippers, causing her to fall and lose her entire season, she was not so inclined this year. His touch no longer sent bolts of desire coursing through her body. However, if the surprise he offered was a good one, she could be coerced into giving him something more.

“Please, Philippe, where is my special surprise?”

Philippe then stood and stared down at her. His head drooped onto his chest. “I see how it iz this year. You are angry with Philippe. I hope the gift will make up for it.” He pulled out a pair of gorgeous white slippers, embellished with bows of pink satin ribbon that wound around her ankle. Her breath caught in her throat.

“They are beautiful, Philippe. Oh, please, let me try them on.”

He held them up to her, soles facing her. “And you see, no paint zis time.” He knelt to put them on her feet. “Am I now forgiven?” He gazed up at her as he tied the ribbons around her ankles.

Jasmine stared at her feet with the new beautiful slippers on them. She held her foot out and turned it first one way, then another, and momentarily took her eyes off the cobbler. So she was unprepared when he swooped in to capture a kiss from her. Gasping at his boldness, her mouth opened just enough to give him access, and his tongue wormed its way into her mouth. She pushed against him, hard, but he didn’t budge. The gall of this man! Thinking she would immediately swoon into his arms, just because he gave her a present!
Wonder if his accent will sound as pleasant if his tongue is swollen when I bite it?
She prepared herself for his howl of pain when she clamped down hard on his tongue. Ready, set …

“I think I’ll take these, monsieur,” Colleen called out as she strutted into the room, breaking the two apart. Jasmine quickly jumped up from the chair. “I do believe it’s past time for us to be going, lass.”

Philippe had the grace to look penitent as he quickly removed the slippers from Jasmine’s feet and wrapped them up along with Colleen’s choice. “Your slippers are no charge, mademoiselle. It’s ze least I can do to make up for your unfortunate spill.”

“Thank you, Philippe, and I’ll be back at the end of the week for my boots.” They quickly left the shop.

“That despicable man,” Jasmine muttered as they got into their carriage. “Thank you, Colleen, for coming in when you did.”

“’Twas much too quiet in the room, so I figured he was up to no good.”

“And to think, last year, I thought he was divine.”

Colleen patted her hand. “’Tis nice to see you’ve matured at least a bit since last year.”

Jasmine didn’t respond, but she was lost in thought. It wasn’t so much that she’d matured, but possibly that another man’s touch was more appealing this year. She thought about Parr, with his arms wrapped around her, comforting her as she trembled from fright. Would Philippe have been so understanding? She thought not. Or for that matter, would Alistair? Oh, for God’s sake, what was she thinking? Of course Alistair would comfort her. If only she could attract his attention, which seemed to currently be focused entirely on Mrs. Smith. With an angry flounce of her skirts, she steeled her mind to think of ways to make Alistair notice her.

• • •

Parr finished saddling the horses that would be used today at Alistair’s event. Ten people were participating in a ride to see the work being done on the racetrack. With mounts for Alistair and himself, that meant all twelve lively horses were in the paddock, and ready. The late January air was crisp and bracing. He breathed deeply, taking in the clean air.

The guests began to arrive, led by Lydia Smith. She and Alistair had moved beyond a cordial relationship in the past week, as she now openly kissed him upon her arrival. Parr was pleased for Alistair, since he had listened to the whole story about his wife, and how she and the baby she was attempting to deliver both died in childbirth. Parr determined that was part of the reason Alistair befriended him. He simply had no one else in his life, and needed a friend.

It helped that Parr genuinely enjoyed the man, in addition to finding himself in these pleasant circumstances. Since Parr’s mother passed, he too had no one in his corner. So he and Alistair were two of a kind in that regard, and leaned on each other as they went about the business of building an empire in the United States.

Jasmine and her father were also coming along on the outing. Their reasons for attending were obvious. George Fitzpatrick had a keen interest in the racetrack, and Jasmine had a keen interest in Alistair.
Ah, cailín
, he thought,
I think you’re out of luck now
. Lydia Smith was proving to be a formidable foe. She had the advantage of already having been wed once, being closer in age to Alistair, and supposedly being an intelligent woman.

Parr thought Jasmine was a smart woman, underneath all the layers of fluff she insisted on surrounding herself with. He was willing to dig to find her inner strengths, but he doubted if Alistair cared enough to look. Not when Lydia was around, anyway.

Jasmine came to his side just as he was assisting Mrs. Smith up on her mount. He held the horse’s reins as Lydia stepped up on the mounting block and got situated in the sidesaddle. He was positioning her foot in the long stirrup when Jasmine reached out and took hold of her riding boot.

“Where did you get these boots, Mrs. Smith?”

“Oh, aren’t they lovely?” Lydia pulled her foot from the stirrup and lifted her boot into the air. “They’re the latest thing from Philippe Louboutin. Isn’t he an absolute genius to have created a functional yet stylish riding boot?”

Jasmine blinked and shot a quick glance at Parr. She didn’t speak, but he did.

“Right-o, Mrs. Smith. They are indeed lovely boots. You’re all set now.” He handed the reins to her and she moved off, toward Alistair’s side.

“Are you all right, cailín?” Jasmine’s face had lost all its coloring. Even her lips were pale. She blinked the tears from her eyes.

“That blasted Frenchman stole our boot design and is claiming it’s his! How dare he?”

“Let’s talk about it as we ride, shall we? I know we can figure out what to do to get back at the lazy sod.”

Parr helped Jasmine mount up, making sure her saddle was hidden under her skirts, before he leapt on Grey’s back and they headed out.

Parr could see the anger radiating off Jasmine’s petite frame. He decided a change in topic would probably be beneficial. “I fancy Alistair is getting tired of Mrs. Smith already, don’t you?” he whispered to her.

Jasmine raised her head and took in the couple in front of them before she angrily replied, “I don’t see how you come up with that notion, Parr, since they’re glued together at the hip.” She turned away from the couple. “I can’t believe Philippe. I know the only reason he’s doing this is because I refused his advances the last time I was in the shop.”

“What did the rat bastard do to you?” Even though this was an inappropriate conversation for them to be having, Parr was glad Jasmine was comfortable enough to open up to him. She was an impetuous woman, to be sure, but he appreciated the fact she could confide in him. His hands tightened on the reins and Grey snorted his disapproval.

“Sorry, fella,” he said to the horse as he relaxed his grip. The thought of someone making improper advances on Jasmine set him on edge, and he hated the French slug for touching her, even though he’d never met the man.

“Well, it went no further than kissing, let me assure you. But that was enough. His tongue nearly gagged me.” She laughed, which was the exact response Parr was hoping for.

“So, how shall we get back at him? Is he the only cobbler in town?”

“The only one with a good reputation and a storefront, anyway.”

“So why don’t you take your designs and open up a shop to compete with him?”

Jasmine glanced over at him. “What a delicious thought. You may have hit on a really good idea, Parr. Before Heather decided to marry David, she was seeing a client of Papa’s, who owns a haberdashery in town. I know he had talked about expanding his business to include catering to women. Colleen takes her shoes to be repaired at a cobbler who doesn’t have a shop. He merely likes making and repairing shoes and boots. We could have him make the footwear and I could sell them in the haberdashery. I wonder how Blake would feel about going into partnership with me?”

“I’d say ’tis at least worthy of discussion.” Parr turned from her to watch the rest of the group. “Oh, look, Mrs. Smith has trotted on ahead of Alistair to speak to your father. Now’s your chance.”

She hesitated for a moment, but pulled away from him and rode toward Alistair, as he suggested. Was it wishful thinking on his part that she seemed a bit reluctant? ’Twas probably the leprechauns playing with his eyesight again.

Charlotte met her husband and Jasmine at the door to the family brownstone as they returned from their excursion at Alistair’s. She gave her husband a quick kiss on the cheek and ordered a bite to eat and a pot of tea be sent to him in his library. Then she hustled Jasmine into the parlor, where another pot of tea awaited. She poured them each a cup of the fragrant, hot liquid and prompted, “So, how did it go with Mr. Wickersham today? I’m so upset that I couldn’t attend because of the library board meeting. But clearly something took place — you haven’t been this excited in months.”

Jasmine smeared some soft butter on a poppy seed muffin and took a bite of the warm heavenly goodness before she shrugged. “You didn’t miss much, Mother. Lydia Smith was all over Alistair Wickersham from the moment she arrived. She even kissed him, on the mouth, in front of everyone! I barely got to talk to the man. But you are right about me being excited. Let me tell you what happened.”

She sat beside her mother on the loveseat and told her about Philippe stealing the boot design she and Parr had come up with, and how Parr suggested she go into business to compete against him.

“What a ridiculous notion, dear! I applaud your efforts, and think something should be done to that despicable man for causing you to lose out on your season last year, and now stealing your wonderful design and passing it off as his own. Even worse, having your boot design show up on the feet of Lydia Smith, making her even more appealing!” She smoothed the skirt of her navy wool afternoon dress as she thought. “You do have an eye for design, but you mustn’t let anything deter you from your goal over the next few months, which is to capture Alistair’s attentions. That should be your primary focus, and discussing ways of competing against Philippe Louboutin with the stable boy will not accomplish your mission.”

Jasmine sighed. “But I see this all as a means to that end. I keep being told that Lydia Smith is so intelligent, manages her late husband’s portfolio of investments on her own, and always has something of value to impart into the conversation. Even Papa admits she’s a wonderful conversationalist. If I take enough initiative to begin a business, however humble, don’t you think Alistair would be impressed by my ingenuity?”

Charlotte tapped her cheek with a finger. Jasmine held her breath.

“All right, dear. I’ll consent to let you talk to Blake Morgan about setting up a shoe store for ladies in his shop. Perhaps we can cut into Philippe’s business somewhat. It may be just the thing to impress Alistair Wickersham. But you’ll need more than one design, especially since Philippe has pirated that one from you.”

“Oh, I’ve been drawing boot designs, and making better, less clumsy versions of them, since Parr pointed out all the features that create a good, solid boot for riding. I just need to put the finishing touches on them, and interview Colleen’s cobbler to see if he’d be willing to take on the extra work.”

“It sounds as if you’ve been giving this some deep thought, and I couldn’t be more proud of you. But don’t lose sight of your original goal in the process. I want my daughter to be known as the Viscountess of Foxborough. Just think what it would do for our standing in society.”

Jasmine leaned over and kissed her mother’s cheek. “And I want the very same. I won’t let either of us down. If Alistair thinks of me as a clever businesswoman, he’ll forget all about the likes of Mrs. Lydia Smith.”

• • •

Parr was in the tack room, facing the chore of cleaning the equipment used the previous day on the ride. Alistair had closed the deal with George Fitzpatrick to assist his bank financially in exchange for George’s help in reaching out to the elite of New York society. They were to begin work on the racetrack as soon as the weather broke. Parr was looking forward to spring in this new land for more reasons than getting to work on the track. Everything came easier if your hands weren’t so cold you couldn’t bend your fingers. And, as soon as the spring-fed lake thawed out, he could turn the horses loose in the pasture to get their fill of water rather than trek it bucket by bucket from the trough to each horse. The tack room had a little wood stove in it, and was quite warm today. He whistled a familiar Irish tune, “Johnny, I Hardly Knew Ye,” as he worked.