Sophie stood staring after him, listening to the clattering hoofbeats fade away. Oh, yes indeed, Lord Jack Wilde was different from any other suitor she’d ever known. He stirred needs and desires that she hadn’t even realized existed. He filled her with a sweet, aching longing and made her feel alive, thrillingly so. Her body was still tingling from the contact with his hard, virile one.
Exhaling slowly, Sophie climbed the bank and reluctantly turned toward the house.
In the battle of her conflicting emotions, desire was winning, she knew. Yet she was not willing to end their forbidden liaison just yet. At the end of the week, she would have to set aside her foolish longings, but for a few days more, she could pretend their growing intimacy was real and not some feverish, self-indulgent fantasy.
For a few days more she could let herself dream.
Upon returning to the Hall in time to greet the early risers, Sophie devoted her attention to the guests, particularly the Duke of Dunmore. Hosting such high-ranking nobility would be a challenge since the Fortins had never moved in his gilded circles. Indeed, Sophie ordinarily would not even have made his acquaintance. But at the beginning of the Season, Dunmore had spied her at a musical evening and requested an introduction.
She had previously attended several other large country house parties, however, and observed the glittering aristocracy at play, although Mrs. Pennant’s gathering would boast less grandeur. For diversions, Sophie had planned an assortment of lawn games and alfresco picnics, theatrical readings, and tours of the local sights, but only one assembly with the neighboring gentry and no formal balls.
That first afternoon, the company visited the ruins of an ancient abbey, while the evening was devoted to enacting parts of Shakespeare’s comedy, A Midsummer Night’s Dream. Great hilarity ensued from the actors’ efforts, both good and bad. Lady Skye proved so excellent at dramatic readings, she seemed a born thespian. And Lord Jack was a natural himself. The cousins’ delightful interplay on the makeshift stage was contagious, Sophie reflected.
She wished she could have joined in their witty exchanges, but she had to keep up appearances of shunning the Wildes. Even if she couldn’t speak to Lord Jack, however, she was keenly aware of his presence at every moment.
She was just as conscious of the powerful feelings he stirred inside her. No doubt it was delusional to think their connection went beyond the physical. That there was something more intimate that linked them on a deeper level. But she couldn’t deny that he filled her with hope.
The duke, on the other hand, was nearly as staid and boring as Lord Jack had charged. Watching the two gentlemen in close proximity, Sophie couldn’t help making comparisons. Dunmore’s rather formal manners gave him a stilted tone, a severe contrast to Jack’s easy ways, while his grace’s ostentatious display of wealth actually made her uncomfortable. And most vexing, the duke was constantly at her side, which his rival didn’t fail to observe.
Twice during that evening, she met Lord Jack’s gaze across the drawing room. He looked perfectly solemn except for the devils dancing in his eyes, as if to say, “I told you so.”
How the two men interacted with her was another enormous difference between them. Lord Jack tre
ated her much as he did his cousin, with teasing affection. Except that with her, Sophie realized, there was a sexual element to his ribbing that was not in the least cousinly. He was a deliberate provocateur, and he good-naturedly accepted raillery in return. She wouldn’t dream of arguing with the duke so overtly for fear he would take offense.
But the most significant disparity was how they each affected her. Dunmore was kind and generous but didn’t stir her passion the way a single glance from Lord Jack could do.
That evening when the tea tray was brought in, Sophie settled in one corner to pour. When Lord Jack approached her, her body gave a shiver, acknowledging that she was within touching distance of him. And when he reached for his cup and their fingers brushed, something primitive and elemental arced between them.
That mere touch of hands was electric, as was the heated look in his eyes. They were in a room full of people, yet for a moment it was as though only the two of them existed.
Regrettably, though, the duke’s advance broke the spell, and his grace clung to her side for the rest of the evening, precluding any further contact with Lord Jack. The next morning, she would have sought him out at the bridge, except that it was pouring rain when she woke.
Lord Jack was frowning faintly when she saw him briefly at breakfast. “Why haven’t we spent any time together?” he murmured.
“I cannot get away from Dunmore.”
Rather than show amusement, he muttered a low oath.
Sophie shared his discontent—then and later. All that day rain kept the company indoors, so they played parlor games, and in the evening, enjoyed more cards and music.
The tension between her father and Lord Jack was still obvious. Papa was not at all happy that a young lady as beautiful as Lady Skye was there to distract the duke.
Her mother, too, was a little concerned, for before she said good night that evening, she drew Sophie aside to murmur a warning in her ear.
“Remember, my love, the purpose of this week is to secure the duke’s proposal.”
“What do you mean, Mama?”
“The duke will not be pleased to have Lord Jack as a rival.”
“You needn’t worry,” Sophie reassured her. “There is nothing serious about Lord Jack’s attentions to me.”
“No? I saw him watching you rather intently this afternoon. Your father is right, that man is scandalously forward.”
A vast understatement, Sophie thought wryly. Her mother would be appalled if she knew about the secret liaison she and Jack were conducting.
“Please, consider your father’s feelings, Sophie. You know it is his greatest wish to see you well married. Even without the unpleasantness of our history with the Wildes, he would not want you allied with so outrageous a family.”