There was a bitter taste in his mouth. Jack drew a sharp breath and looked up, over Sophies head. He felt cold. A steel fist had closed about his heart, squeezing unmercifully.
He took a jerky step back. I regret, Miss Winterton, if my attentions have been unwelcome. I will not trouble you more. I realize my actions must have complicated your search for a suitable suitor. You have my apologies. With a curt bow, Jack turned to leave. And hesitated.
His face in profile, Sophie saw his lips twist in the travesty of a smile. Then he turned his head to look down at her. I can only hope, my dear, that when you find your pot of gold at the end of the rainbow youre not disappointed. With a curt nod, he strode away, opening and shutting the door carefully.
Leaving Sophie in the centre of the empty room.
For a long moment, she remained as she was, proudly erect, then her shoulders slumped. Sophie bowed her head, drawing in an aching breath, squeezing her eyes tight against the pain that blossomed inside.
Ten minutes later, she returned to the ballroom, no trace of misery on her face. Coolly composed, she joined her little circle, brightly responding to Belle Chessingtons quips. A quick glance about revealed the fact that Jacks dark head was nowhere to be seen. Sophie crumpled inside. She had done the right thing. She must remember that.
If this was what it took to ensure he prospered and lived the life he should live, so be it.
From an alcove by the card room, almost at the other end of the floor, Jack brooded on Sophies ready smiles. If he had needed any further proof of the superficiality of her feelings for him, he had just received it. Raising his glass, he downed a mouthful of the golden liquor it contained.
There you are. Been looking all over. Ned ducked round the palm that blocked the opening of the alcove. His eyes fell on Jacks glass. Whats that?
Brandy, Jack growled and took another long sip.
Ned raised his brows. Didnt see any of that in the refreshment room.
No. Jack smiled, somewhat grimly, across the room and said no more. Ned didnt need to drink himself into a stupor.
I danced the last cotillion with Clarissa, Ned said. Her blasted card was virtually full and that bounder Gurnards taking her in to supper. Should I hang around here or can we leave?
His gaze on Sophie, Jack considered the point. I dont advise leaving until after supper, or itll be said you only came to dance with Clarissa.
I did only come to dance with Clarissa, Ned groaned. Can we just cut and run?
Very slowly, Jack shook his head, his attention still fixed across the room. I told you, this games not for the faint-hearted. For a long moment, he said no more; Ned waited patiently.
Abruptly, Jack shook himself and straightened from the wall. He looked at Ned, his usual arrogant expression in place. Go and join some other young ladys circle. But whatever you do, dont be anywhere near Clarissa at suppertime. At Neds disgusted look, Jack relented. If you survive that far, I dont suppose it would hurt to talk to her afterwards-but no more than fifteen minutes.
Wooing a young lady in the ton is the very devil, Ned declared. Where do all these rules come from? With a disgusted shake of his head, he took himself off.
With his protégé under control, Jack leaned back into the shadows of the alcove, and kept watch on the woman who, regardless of all else, was still his.
FOUR DAYS LATER, Sophie sat in the carriage and stared gloomily at the dull prospect beyond the window. Lucillas little excursion, announced this morning, had taken the household by surprise. In retrospect, she should have suspected her aunt was planning something; there had been moments recently when Lucilla had been peculiarly abstracted. This three-day sojourn at Little Bickmanstead, the old manor belonging to Lucillas ancient Aunt Evangeline, was the result.
Despondent, Sophie sighed softly, her gaze taking in the leaden skies. In perfect accord with her mood, the unseasonably fine spell had come to an abrupt end on the night she had refused to let Jack offer for her. A rainstorm had swept the capital. Ever since, the clouds had threatened, low and menacing, moving Lucilla to veto their rides.
Glumly, Sophie wondered if Jack understood-or if he thought she was avoiding him. The miserable truth was, she did not think she could cope with any meeting just now. Perhaps Fate had sent the rain to her aid?
Certainly Jack himself seemed in no hurry to speak with her again. Perhaps he never would. He had been present at the balls they had attended over the past three nights. She had seen him in the distance, but he had not approached her. Indeed, once, when they had passed close while she had been strolling the floor on one of her would-be suitors arms, and their gazes had met, he had merely inclined his head in a distant fashion. She had replied in kind, but inside the ache had intensified.
Sophie closed her eyes and searched for peace in the repetitive rocking of the coach. She had done the right thing-she kept telling herself so. Her tears, perforce, had been shed discreetly, far from Lucillas sharp eyes. She had stifled her grief, refusing to dwell on it; suppressed, it had swelled until it pervaded her, beating leaden in her veins, a cold misery enshrouding her soul. A misery she was determined none would ever see.
Which meant she had to face the possibility that Jack might take up the invitation Lucilla had extended to join them at Little Bickmanstead. The guest list numbered some twenty-seven souls, invited to enjoy a few days of rural peace in the rambling old house close by Epping Forest. But Jack wouldnt come, not now. Sophie sighed, feeling not relief, but an inexpressible sadness at the thought.
The well-sprung travelling carriage rolled over a rut, throwing Clarissa against her shoulder. They disentangled themselves and sat up, both checking on Lucilla, seated opposite, her dresser, Mimms, by her side. Her aunt, Sophie noted, was looking distinctly seedy. A light flush tinted Lucillas alabaster cheeks and her eyes were overbright.
Touching a lace-edged handkerchief to her nose, Lucilla sniffed delicately. Incidentally, Clarissa, I had meant to mention it before now-but you really dont want to encourage that guardsman, Captain Gurnard. Lucilla wrinkled her nose. Im not at all sure hes quite the thing, despite all appearances to the contrary.
Fear not, Mama. Clarissa smiled gaily. Ive no intention of succumbing to the captains wiles. Indeed, I agree with you, theres definitely something not quite about him.
Lucilla shot her daughter a narrow-eyed glance, then, apparently reassured, she blew her nose and settled back against the cushions.
Clarissa continued to smile sunnily. Her plans were proceeding, albeit not as swiftly as she would have liked. Ned was proving remarkably resistant to the idea of imitating her other swains; he showed no signs of wanting to prostrate himself at her feet. However, as she found such behaviour a mite inconvenient, Clarissa was perfectly ready to settle for a declaration of undying love and future happiness. Her current problem lay in how to obtain it.
Hopefully, a few days in quieter, more familiar surroundings, even without the helpful presence of the captain to spur Ned on, would advance her cause.
The carriage checked and turned. Sophie looked out and saw two imposing gateposts just ahead. Then the scrunch of gravel announced they had entered the drive. The house lay ahead, screened by ancient beeches. When they emerged in the forecourt, Sophie saw a long, two-storey building in a hotchpotch of styles sprawling before them. One thing was instantly apparent: housing a party of forty would not stretch the accommodations of Little Bickmanstead. Indeed, losing a party of forty in the rambling old mansion looked a very likely possibility.
Drops of rain began spotting the grey stone slabs of the porch as they hurried inside. A fleeting glance over her shoulder revealed a bank of black clouds racing in from the east. The other members of the family had elected to ride from town, Horatio keeping a watchful eye on his brood. Minton and the other higher servants had followed close behind, the luggage with them. The forecourt became a scene of frenzied activity as they all hurried to dismount and stable the horses and unpack the baggage before the storm hit.
The family gathered in the hall, looking about with interest. The rectangular hall was dark, wood panelling and old tapestries combining to bolster the gloom. An ancient butler had admitted them; an even more ancient housekeeper came forward, a lamp in her hand.
As the woman bobbed a curtsy before her, Lucilla put out a hand to the table in the centre of the room. Oh, dear.
One glance at her deathly pale face was enough to send them all into a panic.
My dear? Horatio hurried to her side.
Mama? came from a number of throats.
Mummy, you look sick, came from Hermione, gazing upwards as she held her mothers hand.
Lucilla closed her eyes. Im dreadfully afraid, she began, her words very faint.
Dont say anything, Horatio advised. Here, lean on me-well have you to bed in a trice.
The old housekeeper, eyes wide, beckoned them up the stairs. Ive readied all the rooms as instructed.
Minton was already sorting through the bags. Sending Clarissa ahead with Mimms and the housekeeper, Sophie came to her aunts other side. Together, she and Horatio supported a rapidly wilting Lucilla up the stairs and along a dim and drafty corridor to a large chamber. Mimms was in charge there; the bed was turned down, the housekeeper dispatched for a warming pan. A fire was cracking into life in the grate.
They quickly helped Lucilla to bed, laying her back on the soft pillows and tucking the covers about her. Once installed, she regained a little colour. She opened her eyes and regarded them ruefully. And sniffed. This is terrible. Ive organized it all-there are twenty-seven people on their way here. Theyll all arrive before dinner. And if the rain persists, theyll need to be entertained for the next two days.
Dont worry about anything, Horatio said, patting her hand. But even he was frowning as the ordeal before them became clear.
But you havent a hostess. Lucilla put her handkerchief to her nose, cutting off what sounded like a tearful wail. She blinked rapidly.