Jack glanced down at her. I couldnt keep away. It was, he somewhat ruefully reflected, the literal truth. He had fully intended to allow the Webbs reasonable time to settle in the capital; instead, he had not been able to resist the compulsion to take Sophie for a drive, to show her the ton, and display her to them, safely anchored by his side. Staking his claim-and in such uncharacteristically blunt fashion that Sophies aunt had seen fit to metaphorically wag her finger at him. Even the weather was conspiring to make him rush on with his wooing, the bright sunshine more redolent of April and May than chilly March.
He had expected some confusion in response to his forthright answer. Instead, to his delight, Sophie raised her chin and calmly stated, In that case, you may make yourself useful and tell me who all these people are. My aunt has had little time to fill me in, and there are many I dont recognize.
Jack grinned. It was close on noon, a most fashionable time to be seen driving in the Park. The Misses Berry you must recall, he said as they swept down on an ancient landau drawn up by the verge. Theyre always to be found at precisely that spot, morning and afternoon throughout the Season.
Of course I remember them. With a gay smile, Sophie nodded to the two old dames, bundled up in scarves and shawls on the seat of the landau. They nodded back. As the curricle swept past, Sophie saw the gleam in their bright eyes.
Next we have Lady Staunton and her daughters. You dont need to know them, although doubtless your cousin will make the younger girls acquaintance.
Sophie bestowed a distant smile on the bevy of girlish faces turned to stare in open envy as she went by. Despite Jorges undoubted expertise, she doubted it was her new carriage dress that had excited their interest.
As she looked ahead once more, she saw a tall woman, modishly gowned in bright cherry-red, strolling the lawns just ahead. Her hand rested on the arm of a rakishly handsome buck. Both looked up as the carriage neared. The womans face lit up; she raised her hand in what appeared, to Sophie, a distinctly imperious summons.
The reaction on her right was immediate; Jack stiffened. As it became clear the carriage was not about to stop, nor even slow, Sophie glanced up. Chilly reserve had laid hold of Jacks features; as Sophie watched, he inclined his head in the most remote of greetings.
The carriage swept on, leaving the couple behind. Relaxing against the padded seat, Sophie forced her lips to behave. And that was? she prompted.
The glance she received was dark with warning. She met it with a lifted brow-and waited.
Harriette Wilson, came the answer. Someone you definitely do not need to know.
His repressive tone evoked a gurgle of laughter; Sophie swallowed it and airly looked around. Lady Cowpers barouche was drawn up in a curve of the carriageway; Sophie waved as they passed, pleased to note her ladyships answering smile. Lady Cowper was yet another old friend of her late mamas.
They passed many others; Jack knew them all. His running commentary kept Sophie amused and distracted. She was content to enjoy his company and his apparent liking for hers; she would dwell on what it might mean later. So she smiled and laughed up at him, basking in the glow of his very blue eyes.
Jack!
The hail jolted them from their absorption.
It emanated from a young, dark-haired gentleman, clearly of the first stare, who, together with his similarly well-turned-out companion, was perched on the driving seat of a swan-necked phaeton, approaching at a clipping pace. Jack reined his horses to the side of the track; the elegant equipage executed a neat turn and came to a swooping stop beside them.
Been searching for you forever, the young gentleman declared, his eyes, also deeply blue, passing from Jack to Sophie. He smiled with cheery good-humour. Dashed if Id thought to find you here!
Glancing up at her escorts face, Sophie saw a whimsical smile soften his hard features.
Gerald. Jack nodded to his brother, his knowledgeable gaze roving over the finer points of the pair of high-bred horses harnessed between the long shafts of the phaeton, itself spanking new if its gleaming paintwork was to be believed. Whered you get this rig?
The phaetons fresh out of old Smitherss workshop. The nags are Hardcastles. Hell let me have them for a tithe their true value-five hundred the pair. The phaetonll be full price, though, and you know what Smithers is like.
Brows lifting, Jack nodded. With a deft twirl of his wrist, he looped his reins and offered them to Sophie. Will you do me the honour, my dear?
Scrambling to hide her surprise, greatly pleased for she well knew that few gentlemen would entrust their horses to a mere female, Sophie graciously nodded and took the reins. With a reassuring smile, Jack climbed down. The horses shifted slightly; determined to keep them in line, Sophie kept her eyes firmly on them, her brow furrowing in concentration.
Hiding his grin, Jack paced slowly around Geralds carriage and horses, his blue eyes shrewdly assessing. Gerald and his friend watched with bated breath, their eagerness barely suppressed. Then, rejoining Sophie and retaking possession of the reins with a warm smile, Jack nodded at his brother. Not a bad set-up.
Gerald grinned delightedly.
But allow me to make you known to Miss Winterton. Jack paused to allow Gerald to bow, lithely graceful. My youngest brother, Gerald Lester.
Having had time to note the similarity between Jack and the youthful gentleman, also dark-haired, blue-eyed and broad-shouldered, but without the heavy musculature that characterized her escorts more mature frame, Sophie showed no surprise.
While his brother introduced Lord Somerby, his companion, Jack cast a last glance over the phaeton and pair. His lips quirked. Turning to Gerald, he smoothly said, And now youll have to excuse us. Im overdue to return Miss Winterton to her home.
Jack! Geralds pained exclamation was heartfelt. Dash it all-dont tease. May I have them or not?
Jack chuckled. You may. But make sure you get an account from Smithers. Drop by this evening and Ill give you a draft. Although it was his own money Gerald would be spending, as his trustee until his twenty-fifth birthday, Jack had to approve all his youngest brothers transactions.
Geralds smile was ecstatic. Ill be around at seven. With an insouciant wave of his whip, he touched his horses ears. As the phaeton disappeared along the avenue, his gay carolling rolled back to them.
Smiling at Jacks exuberance, a sort of boundless joie de vivre, Sophie glanced up at her companion.
As if sensing her regard, Jacks smile, distant as he contemplated his brothers delight, refocused on her face. And now, I fear, I really should return you to Mount Street, my dear.
So saying, he whipped up his horses; they took the turn into the main avenue in style. As they bowled along, a stylish matron chatting idly with an acquaintance in her carriage, glanced up, then waved them down. Jack politely drew in beside the ladys barouche.
Sophia, my dear! Lady Osbaldestone beamed at her. I take it your aunt has finally arrived in town?
Indeed, maam. Sophie leant from the curricle to shake her ladyships hand. Well be here for the Season.
Sophia, my dear! Lady Osbaldestone beamed at her. I take it your aunt has finally arrived in town?
Indeed, maam. Sophie leant from the curricle to shake her ladyships hand. Well be here for the Season.
And a good thing, too! Its entirely more than time you were amongst us again. Her ladyships eyes gleamed with a fervour to which Sophie was innured.
Jack was not so fortunate. He exchanged nods with Lady Osbaldestone, wryly resigned to being ignored for at least the next ten minutes. Lady Osbaldestones lack of concern in finding a young lady with whom she clearly claimed more than a passing acquaintance alone in his presence registered-and made his inner smile even more wry. There had been a time, not so very far distant, when she would not have been so sanguine. However, over the past year, his acknowledged search for a wife had gained him, if not immunity from all suspicion, then at least a certain acceptance amongst the grandes dames. He suspected they viewed him as a leopard who, at least temporarily, had changed his spots.
That much, he was willing to concede, might be true. Nevertheless, the underlying temperament remained.
As he heard her ladyships plans for Sophies future unfurl, his instincts rose to shake his complacency.
He waited until they had, at last, parted from his ladyship and were once more rolling towards the gates before saying, Lady Osbaldestone seems quite determined to see you well wed.
Totally unconcerned by her ladyships grand schemes, which had even stretched as far as the Duke of Huntington, Sophie smiled gaily. Indeed. They are all of them busy hatching schemes.
All of them?
There was something in his flat tones that made her glance up but her companions expression was inscrutable. Light-hearted still, even light-headed, the aftermath, no doubt, of an uninterrupted hour of his company, Sophie grinned. All of my mothers old friends, she explained. They all look upon me as a motherless chick-one and all, theyre determined to see me properly established. She uttered the last words in a passable imitation of Lady Osbaldestones haughty accents.
She glanced up, expecting to see him smiling, laughing with her at the prospect of so many matrons busily scheming on her behalf. Instead, his face remained stony, devoid of expression. Jack felt her glance. His emotions straining at the leash, he looked down.
Sophie met his dark gaze, and felt a vice slowly close about her heart. Avid, eager to find the reason, for that and the force that held them in a curious hiatus, out of time, she searched his face and his deeply glowing eyes. Jack watched as her smile slowly faded, to be replaced with puzzlement-and a clear query.
Sophie- He drew in a deep breath and glanced ahead, just in time to avoid colliding with a natty trilby, swung through the gates far too fast.
Jack swore. In the ensuing chaos as he calmed his own horses, then received the shrill and abject apologies of the trilbys owner, a young sprig barely old enough to shave and, in Jacks pithily offered opinion, of insufficient experience to be entrusted with the reins, the purport of Lucillas words returned to him.