“No. Particularly regarding an issue that is so personal to you.” Sophie cocked her head as she studied him. “The other night you said you knew someone who could have benefited from a refuge like Arundel. I believe I can guess whom you meant—and why you champion the vulnerable women here. It’s because your own mother found herself in a similar predicament all those years ago, isn’t it?”
The humor in his eyes promptly faded. “I don’t wish to discuss it.”
She could tell she had touched a nerve, so she left off prodding him. “Very well, but I think your image of being an uncaring rake is a sham.”
Lord Jack made no comment, only ran a hand roughly through his raven hair. She could tell he was frustrated because they were at an impasse. Perhaps he was merely spoiled; as the privileged son of a nobleman, he was surely accustomed to getting his own way.
Or perhaps it was something deeper.
He was a charming rogue, true, but she had caught a fleeting glimpse of a different man entirely, hidden beneath the façade. A serious, contemplative, complex man teeming with emotional undercurrents inside. There was an intensity about Lord Jack that was totally unexpected … and totally compelling.
As the silence drew out, Sophie saw a muscle work in his jaw. But then abruptly, without warning, he gave in. “Very well … you win.”
Her glance turned skeptical. She hadn’t thought he would relent so easily. “What do I win?”
“Never mind.”
Grasping her elbow, he guided her to the door and ushered her from the office. “Come, I will escort you to your carriage.”
Sophie’s steps lagged. “I would rather you didn’t.”
“Why not? Because you don’t want your aunt to know I am associating with you?”
His perceptiveness impressed her. “Yes, but not for the reason you think. If she knew you are proposing a clandestine rendezvous with me, she would only encourage you.”
His brows drew together thoughtfully, as if he found her admission intriguing. “Indeed?”
“Yes. For some reason my Aunt Eunice likes your boldness.” Sophie laughed softly in remembrance. “She especially admired your gall in infiltrating her ball.”
“So we would have an ally in her?”
That he wanted an ally surprised and flattered Sophie. “Well … perhaps. As it happens, she doesn’t share my parents’ desire that I wed Dunmore. But her support would make no difference to my father.”
Lord Jack was silent as he walked Sophie outside to the graveled drive where her aunt’s carriage waited.
Opening the barouche door, he handed her inside, then startled her with his next words. “I will see you tomorrow, Miss Fortin, if not before.”
Sophie sent him an exasperated look. “Did you not hear a word I said?”
“Oh, I heard every word. But I don’t want your being sold into matrimony on my conscience when I could have stopped it.” He grinned in that slow, deliberately maddening way of his. “And since there is little time left, I will simply have to go around your father.”
“What do you mean, go around him? What do you intend to do?”
In response, he only smiled enigmatically and stepped back, then shut the carriage door and rapped on the panel, giving her aunt’s coachman the office to start.
His refusal to answer her worried Sophie greatly. As the barouche rolled away, she turned in her seat to gaze back at Lord Jack through the small rear window, but he had disappeared from sight.
She caught her lower lip with her teeth, wondering if she ought to return and try to reason with him further. But she knew it would be futile.
And one thing she also knew: She hadn’t heard the last of Lord Jack Wilde. That was for certain.
He was losing the battle against desire, Jack acknowledged as he watched the barouche roll away. Before this moment, he’d never spent time contemplating the power in a kiss, but his second delectable encounter with Sophie Fortin had settled the issue for him: There truly was something special between them.
The riveting sweetness of her mouth had only made him want her more. And given the looming house party, he felt the urgency to act.
His immediate priority, Jack decided, was to cultivate an ally in Sophie’s great-aunt, Mrs. Eunice Pennant. That goal brought him once again to the Pennant residence, late the next morning. Since it was S
unday, the street was quiet, as was the interior of the house when he was admitted.