In hushed tones, the butler promised to inquire if Mrs. Pennant was receiving and showed Jack to a parlor to wait.
He was left cooling his heels for nearly a quarter of an hour before the servant returned and escorted him upstairs to an elegant sitting room. Jack found the elderly lady seated in a plush velvet chair. Her silver hair and stooped posture made her appear fragile with age, but her blue eyes sparkled with curiosity and interest as he sketched her a polite bow.
“Forgive me for not descending the stairs to receive you, Lord Jack,” Mrs. Pennant said in greeting, “but my old bones strongly object to movement at this ungodly time of day. What brings you here? I confess astonishment that you would show your face here, given the rift between the Wildes and the Fortins.”
“I came to retrieve my cutlass, ma’am. I mistakenly left it in your library the night of your masquerade.”
She stared at him for upward of ten seconds before letting out a cackle of laughter, which had the unfortunate effect of inducing a coughing fit.
Quickly going down on one knee beside her, Jack snatched up an embroidered handkerchief lying on a side table and pressed it into her hand.
Mrs. Pennant wheezed into the cloth for another few moments, then dabbed her damp eyes as she observed him with obvious amusement. “Leave it to you to do the unexpected, my lord. No, you needn’t worry. I am not in danger of expiring.” She waved him to a chair. “You have some nerve, returning to the scene of the crime, as it were.”
Jack grinned, knowing he had negotiated his first major hurdle. Instead of throwing him out on his ear, Sophie’s great-aunt seemed eager to learn why he had called. But winning over this crotchety lady would not be easy.
“I have come to make you a proposition, Mrs. Pennant. I understand you are planning a house party in Berkshire this week in order to sweeten up the Duke of Dunmore.”
Her gaze narrowed. “You are a frank one, aren’t you?”
“You are known for your plain-speaking yourself,” Jack countered.
“I am. I fancy directness over mealymouth bromides. Therefore, pray be direct.”
“Do I understand correctly that you don’t want your niece to wed Dunmore?”
She hesitated but eventually nodded. “You could say so.”
“Then I wish to make my case for why you should grant me permission to court her.”
“Indeed?” Astonishment spread over Mrs. Pennant’s wrinkled features. “Are you telling me you want to wed my niece?”
Jack answered honestly. “I don’t yet know if matrimony is in the cards. We only met just this week.”
“So you are not claiming to love her.”
“I admit I am enamored of her, but I don’t know her well enough yet to love her, and it is too soon to tell if a courtship could lead to marriage. But I want the chance for us to become better acquainted and determine if we could be a match … which is why I am requesting an invitation to your house party.”
Her rasping laugh sounded again. “You are inventive, I’ll give you that. I presume you will tell me why I should invite you.”
“Because time is running short for me to win your niece’s affections before Dunmore proposes.”
“Does Sophie favor your courtship?”
Jack hesitated. “I have reason to believe she might entertain my suit if it weren’t for her father’s objections.”
The elderly lady’s mouth turned down in a frown. “If this is some lark of yours, Lord Jack …”
“I assure you, I am in earnest.”
“Why should I believe you—a hellion with a taste for the devil? For the past decade you have left a string of broken hearts in your wake.”
“I have no intention of breaking your niece’s heart, madam,” Jack assured her.
“To my knowledge you have never been marriage-minded.”
He smiled. “Because I have never met the right match. Until Sophie, I have never met the woman who could make me contemplate matrimony.” Which was certainly an understatement, he reflected drolly.
“But surely you realize the obstacles you face? Oliver Fortin would never countenance your courtship of his daughter, even if I would.”