“And no more waltzing with anyone but me.”
“That’s outrageous!” Sophie disengaged from Jack’s arms. “You don’t know what you’re asking.”
“I know only too well,” Jack growled, letting her go. “Fair’s fair, Sophie. No more going to supper with any gentleman but me-and certainly no driving or going apart with anyone else.”
Smoothing down her skirts, Sophie humphed.
Jack caught her chin on his hand and tipped her head up until her eyes met his. “Are we agreed, Sophie?”
Sophie could feel her pulse racing. Her eyes met his, intensely blue, and she felt like she was drowning. His face, all hard angles and planes, was very near, his lips, hard and finely chiselled, but inches away. “Yes,” she whispered and breathed again when he released her.
With his customary grace, Jack offered her his arm.
Drawing her dignity about her, Sophie picked up her basket and placed her hand on his sleeve. She allowed him to lead her down the steps and back towards the house, all the way struggling to cope with the sensation of being balanced on a knife-edge. Determined to give the reprobate by her side no inkling of her difficulty, she kept her gaze on the scenery and her head very high.
Jack viewed the sight through narrowed eyes. Then he smiled, slowly, and started to plan.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
THE PARTY broke up the next morning. By then, everyone was aware that something had changed, that Jack stood, in some unspecified way, as Sophie’s protector. Despite her disapproval of his tactics, Sophie could not help feeling grateful, especially when he helped shoulder the responsibility for their return to the capital. Even with Lucilla all but fully recovered, with her uncle absent, she had not been looking forward to travelling with all her cousins, Toby the only adult male in sight.
But by mid-morning, when she emerged from the door of her great-aunt’s home, all was under control. Her younger cousins were to ride as before, much to their delight. With Jack, Toby and Ned to keep them in line, Sophie had no residual qualms. The carriage stood waiting, Clarissa already aboard. Her arms full of rugs and cushions, Sophie glanced back.
Lucilla came slowly through the hall, leaning heavily on Jack’s arm. Although still wan, her aunt showed no signs of faintness. Sophie turned and hurried down the steps to prepare Lucilla’s seat in the carriage.
At the top of the steps, Lucilla paused to breathe in the crisp morning air. Blue skies had returned; fluffy white clouds held no lingering menace. With a small, highly satisfied smile, she glanced at Jack beside her. “I’m very glad you did not disappoint me, Mr. Lester.”
Recalled from his study of Sophie’s curvaceous rear, neatly outlined as she stood on the carriage step and leaned in, Jack looked down at Lucilla, one brow slowly rising. “That was never my intention, ma’am.”
Lucilla’s smile broadened. “I’m so glad,” she said, patting his arm. “Now, if you’ll give me your arm…?”
Jack got his revenge by lifting her easily and carrying her down the steps. As he settled her amid Sophie’s cushions and rugs, Lucilla favoured him with a dignified glare. Then her lips twitched and she lay back on the seat, waving him away.
His own lips curving, Jack handed Sophie up, resisting the temptation to bestow a fond pat on her retreating anatomy. And then they were away.
FIVE NIGHTS LATER, under the glare of the chandeliers in the Duchess of Richmond’s ballroom, Sophie dimly wondered why she had imagined awaiting her uncle’s return in the bosom of the
Casting a glance up at him as he stood, planted immovably by her side, starkly handsome in severe black and white, Sophie stifled a sudden tremor.
Jack caught her glance. He bent his head to hers. “There’s another waltz coming up.”
Sophie shot him a warning glance. “I’ve already danced one waltz with you.”
His rakish grin surfaced. “You’re allowed two dances with any gentleman.”
“But not two waltzes, if I’m wise.”
“Don’t be wise, my Sophie.” His eyes gently teased. “Come dance with me. I promise you no one will remark unduly.”
Resistance, of course, was useless. Sophie allowed him to lead her to the floor, knowing any show of reluctance would be pure hypocrisy. She loved being held in his arms; at the moment, waltzing was the only safe way to indulge her senses.
As they circled the floor, she noted the looks of resignation many of her mother’s old friends turned upon them. In contrast, Lady Drummond-Burrell, that most haughty of Almack’s patronesses, smiled with chilly approval.
“Amazing,” Jack said, indicating her ladyship with an inclination of his head. “Nothing pleases them more than the sight of a fallen rake.”
Sophie tried to frown but failed. “Nonsense,” she said.
“No, it’s not. They’ll all approve once the news gets out.”
Sophie did frown then. Jack had told her how the change in his fortune had come about. “Why hasn’t it got out by now? Presuming it’s real, of course.”
The arm about her tightened, squeezing in warning. “It’s real,” Jack replied. “But I confess I purposely neglected to mention it to anyone.”
“Why?”
“You’ve met the elder Miss Billingham; just imagine her sort, multiplied by at least a hundred, all with yours truly in their sights.”
Sophie giggled. “Surely you weren’t afraid?”
“Afraid?” Jack raised an arrogant brow. “Naturally not. I merely have an innate dislike of tripping over debs at every turn.”
Sophie laughed, the delicious sound teasing Jack’s senses, tightening the tension inside him until it was well- nigh unbearable. He metaphorically gritted his teeth. The wait, he promised himself, would be worth it.
At the end of the dance, he escorted Sophie back to her aunt and took up his position-by her side.
Sophie knew better than to argue. Lord Ruthven stopped by, then Lord Selbourne joined them. With practised ease, Sophie laughed and chatted. While there were many gentlemen who still sought her company, her suitors, not only the three she had already dismissed but all the others who had viewed her with matrimony in mind, rarely hove in sight. Jack’s presence, large and dark by her shoulder, was more than enough to make them think twice. Their rides in the Park every morning continued, but with Jack by her side, she found herself blissfully free of encumbrances. It was impossible to misinterpret his interest; as he was so tall, whenever he spoke with her, he bent his head to hers, and she, motivated by her instincts, naturally turned into his strength, reinforcing the image that they were one, wanting only the official announcement. Horatio’s absence explained their present hiatus; none doubted the announcement would eventually come, as her mother’s old friends’ attitudes clearly showed.
She was his, and every passing day made her more aware of that truth. And that much more nervous of her uncle’s return. She still doubted Jack’s story; she had seen the passion in him and knew his love to be strong enough to motivate the most enormous lie. Regardless of what he said, it was possible. Only Horatio could lay her doubts to rest-and none knew when he would return.
With an inward sigh, Sophie mentally girded her loins. She glanced across at Clarissa, holding court on the other side of her aunt’s chaise. Her cousin looked radiant, charming her many youthful swains yet, as Sophie had noticed, careful to give none any particular encouragement. Beside her, Ned occupied a position that had much in common with Jack’s. Sophie’s lips twitched; she returned her gaze to Lord Selbourne. There was a light in Ned’s eyes that she did not think Clarissa had yet noticed.
Ned, in fact, was almost as impatient as Jack. But both his and Clarissa’s parents had agreed that no formal offer should be considered until after Clarissa’s Season. Which meant he had a far longer wait ahead of him; and, to his mind, far less assurance of gaining the prize at the end.
