“I told you I would.”
“And you keep your promises.”
“Well, yes. But I am a terrible daughter, sneaking out against my parents’ express wishes.”
He laughed as he dismounted. “You are an angelic daughter.”
“Certainly I am angelic compared to you. You are a rebel through and through. I am a conformist at heart.”
“I think there is a secret rebel inside you just longing to be free. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be here with me now.”
Sophie gave him no argument. This escapade with him was pure fantasy; indeed, it seemed unreal. But the truth was, she wanted to be wooed by this irresistible, enchanting man. He was the epitome of the boldly passionate rogue. He offered excitement and the promise of passion and forbidden love. What woman could resist that alluring combination?
Leading the bay, Lord Jack took her hand and guided her down the grassy slope to the rushing stream that ran beneath the bridge, where he tethered the horse to a tree branch. Sophie watched as he reached in his saddlebag and drew out a blanket, a small cloth bundle, and a flask of what he said was cider.
“I brought us a treat. I wasn’t inclined to wait until a formal breakfast to sate my hunger.”
He spread the blanket on the grass beside the stream, then settled with her there. To her delight, he opened the cloth to reveal a half dozen buttered crumpets.
“How did you come by these?” Sophie asked, accepting a crumpet.
“I made friends with your cook and pilfered your aunt’s pantry.”
“You mean you cozened the cook? Is there any female you cannot charm?”
“You have been more difficult than most. Why is that, do you think?”
“Probably because I was raised to be wary of seductive libertines like you.”
He made a tsking sound and offered her the flask. “So tell me about yourself, Sophie Fortin.”
“What do you wish to know?”
“Everything. We have a lifetime of catching up to do.”
It seemed he truly did want to know her better, Sophie realized as they shared the crumpets and cider. He asked about her childhood in Surrey, her schooling, her late brother.… At the reminder of her loss, Sophie swallowed the ache in her throat. She still couldn’t think of Theo without hurting inside, but she told Lord Jack about the sudden fever that had claimed her brother and devastated her family.
As if recognizing her sadness, Lord Jack changed the subject to her impending engagement.
“You have made your father’s ambitions for you very clear. What does your mother think?”
“She has the same hopes for me. Mama is a gentle soul but pragmatic. She believes that daughters ought to marry as their parents bid.”
“I still wonder at their choice for you,” he said, lying back on the blanket and lacing his hands behind his head. “You have little in common with Dunmore.”
“Why do you say so?”
“He lives to ride to hounds, for one thing.”
Sophie winced. “I confess I am not fond of foxhunting. I would feel too much sympathy for the poor fox. My parents never kept saddle horses either, so I don’t ride particularly well.”
“In that respect, Skye and Kate are better suited to Dunmore than you are. They were practically born in the saddle.”
“Well, fortunately horsemanship is not a prerequisite for marriage.”
“But you cannot claim to be a good match. We have already discussed his lack of passion. You know you are unlikely to find pleasure in your nuptial bed.”
“Marriage is not about pleasure,” Sophie countered.