“Do you know what I think? This is still a game to you, and you have let your wounded pride overrule your better judgment. You are pursuing me because you cannot bear to lose a competition to Dunmore.”
“I don’t like losing, true. But we are long past games.”
“Are we?” She held Jack’s gaze levelly. “You don’t love me. You implied as much during our last night together.”
His expression turned enigmatic. “I don’t love you yet. But I admire you and desire you.”
Yet. Sophie tried to ignore his startling choice of words. That he was leaving open the possibility of falling in love with her should not be enough to send her hopes soaring.
“Desire,” she pointed out, “is not adequate justification for me to forsake my family and renege on my promises.”
“But it is far more than you will have with Dunmore.”
“Still, it is not enough for what you are asking me to do.”
At her answer, Jack looked as frustrated as she felt.
“Answer me honestly …” Sophie pressed when he was silent. “Could you ever love me?”
“Honestly?” The intensity of his gaze was mesmerizing, but her heart sank at his reply: “Perhaps. Given time. You are everything I would want in a wife. If I were ever to fall in love, it would be with you.”
Sophie shook her head sadly. Perhaps wasn’t enough. If she succumbed to Jack’s temptation, he might break her heart, and she would certainly break her parents’ hearts. Even if he somehow became a prince and miraculously overcame her parents’ opposition, what sort of future would they have together if he were forced to live a life he’d never wanted, with a father he despised?
“If I must have a loveless marriage,” she said in a low voice, “it might as well be with Dunmore.”
When Jack started to protest, Sophie held up a hand. “I am resigned to the marriage, Jack. This … attraction between us … whatever romance we had … has been a pleasant fantasy, nothing more.”
His heavy brows snapped together. “Merely pleasant?”
“Very well, more than pleasant … it has been wonderful. But it is still only a fantasy.”
His jaw hardened. “I am not giving up, Sophie.”
“Jack, please … I think you had best go. I will tell my aunt you called. She is still asleep and cannot be disturbed.” Sophie rose and so did he. “The servant will show you out.”
“I can find my own way out.”
But he failed to match his words to action. Instead, he moved closer and reached up to caress her lower lip with a forefinger.
At the erotic gesture, Sophie felt her stomach quiver. Remembering the smoldering heat Jack had roused in her the last time he’d touched her, she clenched her hands to prevent herself from reaching up and pulling his mouth to hers. She well knew that he used passion as a weapon to gain whatever he wanted, and this time she would very likely succumb to his promise of bliss.
Deliberately she stepped back, out of reach.
After another long moment, Jack finally acceded to her wishes. With a brief bow, he made for the door, giving up without any further fight.
When he was gone, Sophie stood there trembling, torn between cursing and crying at the same time. Eventually she went to the window to look down on the street and saw Jack striding to his carriage. He didn’t glance back as he climbed inside.
Fresh despair filled her as his coach drove off, yet she forced herself to turn away from the window. It was deplorable to be pining after Jack in this shameless way. It was even worse to be having second thoughts about her decision to marry the duke.
Damn Jack for making her yearn so foolishly. Damn and blast him for stirring up such profound dissatisfaction inside her. She had convinced herself she was prepared to wed Dunmore, but now she was no longer certain.…
Sophie clenched her fists again. She absolutely had to gain better control over her treacherous feelings. Lord Jack Wilde was a devilishly charming rogue who turned sensible women insensible, and she was determined to be sensible.
Even if it killed her.
Mrs. Pennant finally woke an hour later but remained in bed, looking haggard. Thus, Sophie was more gentle than she’d intended when she took her aunt to task for deceiving her.
“Why did you not tell me you were in league with Lord Jack?” she chided mildly as she arranged the breakfast tray on Mrs. Pennant’s lap.