Remembering Lady Katharine’s outlandish theory about them acting out Romeo and Juliet, Sophie shook her head. The very idea was preposterous. Unlike Shakespeare’s play, there could be no falling in love with Lord Jack at first glance. She could have nothing to do with him.
In addition to the feud, he was all wrong for her—the opposite of the proper, highborn husband her parents coveted for her. Although his altruism was highly admirable.
It was curious that he wished to keep his contributions to the Arundel Home a secret. He’d acted as if his championing helpless women was of little consequence, but Sophie knew he had impacted numerous lives for the better.
His contradictions intrigued her, a known rakehell aiding unwed mothers. Likely his compassion and benevolence stemmed from his own late mother’s circumstances. But whatever the cause, he evidently had a great deal more substance than the typical blue-blooded buck.
Or perhaps her enchantment stemmed from some flaw in herself. Undeniably, she was secretly drawn to his bold, rebel nature. Lord Jack was a charming black sheep in a family of charming black sheep. He had fire and passion and was wildly exciting, rather than dull and pleasantly boring. Of course it was vastly more enjoyable being seduced by a breathtakingly amorous pirate than having her toes crushed by a kind but awkward older duke. There really was no contest.
In any event, she needed to remember that it was highly dangerous to associate with Lord Jack, for he made her feel things she ought never feel. She would have liked to blame him for kindling this rebellious streak inside her, but that wouldn’t be fair. Of late she’d felt a vague impatience with her life, a restlessness that had grown stronger over the past few weeks. The closer she came to securing a proposal of marriage from Dunmore, the more she longed for freedom.
Yet she had a ver
y specific plan for her future and had to adhere to it. Even if she yearned for a love match with a man who inspired her deepest passions, the idea that she could marry for love was merely a self-indulgent fantasy. She knew her duty. She was her parents’ only child now and they depended on her.
If that meant she was obliged to marry a widowed duke who was more than twice her age, then she would willingly sacrifice her own self-interests and make a marriage of convenience.
As for Lord Jack Wilde … Sophie frowned as she let herself into her luxuriously appointed bedchamber. She was supremely vexed at herself for succumbing so easily to his brazen seduction. She had wholeheartedly returned his passionate kisses tonight in a temporary moment of insanity, and she would not let it happen again.
After the masquerade, Jack made appearances at another ball and then a gaming hell, so the evening was well-advanced when he arrived home. He was unsurprised, however, to learn from his footman that Lady Skye awaited him in his drawing room.
Jack heaved a long-suffering sigh, knowing what was to come. Several years ago, he’d moved out of his adopted brother’s London mansion in Grosvenor Square and into his own town house in a newer neighborhood northeast of Hyde Park, largely because he wanted to live his life away from the watchful eye of his loving but meddlesome family. All five cousins had grown up together and become as close as siblings after losing both sets of their parents to a tragic shipwreck at sea when Jack was seventeen and Skye twelve.
It was also a matter of discipline. He disliked being alone and therefore regularly forced himself to go without company. But since his new home was within a mile of both the Beaufort and Traherne town residences, he couldn’t escape his prying relatives for long.
Nor could he escape their schemes.
Jack had been genuinely amused to see Ash made the victim of Kate’s matchmaking these past few months, but being the target himself wasn’t nearly as enjoyable. Particularly when two determined Wilde females ganged up on him at once. Evidently, Skye was once again determined to corner him, this time in his own drawing room.
As expected, Skye had made herself comfortable and was curled up on a sofa with a book. Her delicate loveliness, along with her pale gold hair and wide blue eyes, gave her something of an angelic appearance but concealed her high-spirited, mischievous nature.
When she looked up with an anticipatory smile, Jack cut her off with a peremptory question. “Why the devil are you here so late? It is nearly two o’clock in the morning.”
“You know why. I want a report on your encounter with Miss Fortin. I understand you attended her aunt’s masquerade this evening.”
“You could have waited until morning to interrogate me.”
“No, I could not,” Skye replied sweetly. “I would have been too excited to sleep, not knowing the outcome.”
“Far be it from me to disturb your beauty rest,” he drawled.
Skye closed her book with a decided air of resolve. “Jack, are you going to tell me what happened or not?”
“Do I have a choice?”
“No. You know I will not leave until you satisfy my rabid curiosity.”
Jack gave another exaggerated sigh, but she ignored his hint that her presence was unwanted.
“Very well,” he relented. “But come to the kitchens with me. I won’t hold this discussion on an empty stomach.”
Giving a sage nod, Skye rose and followed him below stairs to the large kitchen. Jack often had hunger pangs at odd hours, but his cook was well aware of his habits and thus kept a plentiful supply of leftovers handy.
Upon raiding the cellar, Jack unearthed a roasted chicken leg and poured himself an ale. Skye, however, declined his offer of refreshments and sat at the servants’ table across from him, as if prepared for a long siege. “So what happened at the masquerade?”
“I fulfilled my promise to meet Miss Fortin,” he answered.
“I was right, was I not? She is no milquetoast.”