Sophie could not refute her mother. The Wildes were pleasure-seekers who lived life to the fullest, and Jack was the worst transgressor.
“Either of the Wilde cousins could spoil your chances of marrying the duke,” Rebecca added for emphasis. “Lord Jack could easily ruin your sterling reputation. You don’t want to put your father in the position of having to defend your honor, do you?”
“No, of course not.”
“And Lady Skye is so beautiful, she could possibly steal his grace away from you. You must have an eye to your future, dearest.”
“I know, Mama.”
She didn’t want to think of her future, however, for then she would have to remember what she yearned for in a life’s mate. She didn’t want nice and dull; she wanted brazen and brash and exhilarating. She didn’t want staid and boring; she wanted passionate and adventurous and exciting. Not only was she chafing to escape the stifling confines of the house party, she wanted to escape specifically with Lord Jack. A taboo sentiment that made her feel profoundly guilty after hearing her mother’s gentle admonitions.
The reminder of all her parents had at stake, as well as the potential threat to her father, left Sophie wondering if perhaps she ought to end Lord Jack’s clandestine courtship right then before it went any further.
Her mind was almost made up when she went below stairs to speak to the staff about the next day’s menus and plans. Afterward, she retired to her bedchamber, feeling despondent and restless.
She had just donned her nightdress and sat down before her dressing table to brush her hair and plait her unruly curls so she wouldn’t wake with a tangled mess, when she heard an odd clicking sound at her window.
Quickly pulling on a dressing gown, she went to investigate. The rain had stopped some time ago, but opening the window let in a cool, damp breeze. Upon peering down into the darkness, she realized the strange little clicks were deliberate: Lord Jack was throwing pebbles at her windowpane from the gardens below.
Her heart leapt so foolishly with gladness that she spoke more sternly than she intended.
“What do you think you are doing?” she called down to him in a stage whisper.
“I am playing Romeo,” he replied as he moved to the ivy-covered wall beneath her window and began climbing up the trellis.
“Are you mad?” Sophie demanded in disbelief when he reached her, even though she should have expected the unexpected from him. To be a Wilde meant to ignore boundaries.
“Not at all. Do you intend to let me in?”
“No, of course not.”
“The longer I remain out here clinging to the wall, the greater the risk I’ll be seen.”
With a soft huff of exasperation, Sophie stepped back to give him room to climb inside. Then she shut the window and drew the draperies. Even though she knew he would be difficult to be rid of, she had to conceal his visit, for the alternative would be disastrous. There had been one duel between their relatives already, and her father would surely come out the loser if it came to a contest of arms with Lord Jack—or most any other sort of contest, for that matter.
When she turned to face Lord Jack, he scanned her nightclothes with his gaze, lingering on the bosom of her nightdress. Realizing her dressing gown was hanging open, she hurriedly tied the front ribbons.
“There is no need for you to be so prim and proper with me, Fair Juliet,” the rogue said with a wicked grin.
“I beg to differ. You shouldn’t be in my bedchamber at all, certainly not this late at night when we are both half dressed.”
He was still wearing satin evening breeches, stockings, and pumps, she noted, but no coat or waistcoat or cravat, and his shirt had no collar. It was one thing to meet him privately when they were both fully clothed, but this highly intimate setting screamed impropriety and was ripe for scandal. She couldn’t lock the door to prevent interruptions, however, for fear he would draw the wrong conclusion about her willingness to entertain him.
Lord Jack cocked his head at her. “Why are you so peevish?”
“I am not peevish. I am worried about my father. If he discovers you here, blood could be shed—and it likely won’t be your blood, since by all reports you are a crack shot and skilled swordsman.”
“Then it is fortunate that I don’t intend to be caught.”
“Will you please keep your voice down? Someone could hear you.”
“Very well, I will whisper if it pleases you.”
“It would please me better if you would leave.”
“It will be safer to wait until the household is asleep.”
He did have a point, Sophie acknowledged, her annoyance growing at his nonchalance. “You could have waited until morning instead of sneaking into my room.”