Sophie hesitated, then nodded.
“And you’ll marry me three weeks after that.”
It was not a question; Sophie only just stopped her nod.
“And furthermore,” Jack continued, his blue gaze holding hers, “if I’m to toe the line until your uncle gets back, then so shall you.”
“Me?”
“No more flirting with your suitors—other than me.”
“I do not flirt.” With an offended air, Sophie drew back.
“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 ton would be safer than at Little Bickmanstead. Mere hours had sufficed for Jack to make it patently clear that he had meant every word he had uttered in Great-Aunt Evangeline’s summer-house. Twenty-four hours had been enough for her to realize that, that being so, the possibility of ever denying him receded even further with every successive day.
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.”