Lover Be Mine (Legendary Lovers 2)

“If so, you will give me a hearing.”

“I will do nothing of the kind. You are a trickster, resorting to such underhanded means.”

“I only require a few moments of your time.”

Fortin started to retort, but Rebecca Fortin spoke up in her soft voice. “Perhaps we should hear him out, my dear.”

Fortin sat there fuming, yet amazingly enough, he tempered his bluster somewhat. “My wife has a delicate constitution and ought not be inconvenienced in this deplorable manner. But since you have connived to trap us here, you may as well have your say.”

Jack had debated divulging his resolve to court Sophie—but decided it wiser to soften Fortin’s resistance first.

“I know there is bad blood between us,” he began. “You hold my relatives responsible for the loss of your family’s title and fortune. But there is another side of the tale.” Jack drew out the journal from his coat pocket. “This was written by my great-uncle, Lord Philip Wilde. It is an account of events leading up to the duel with your grandfather, Gideon Fortin, Lord Harbage, and the aftermath of the tragedy. I hope to convince you to read it.”

“Why in blazes should I?” Fortin asked.

“Because the conflict between our families is built on a fallacy and has gone on long enough.”

When Mrs. Fortin laid a calming hand on her husband’s arm, Fortin gritted his teeth and allowed Jack to continue.

“We have all been misinformed about our family history, sir. Our relatives fought over a lady, true, but it was your grandfather who forced the duel out of misplaced pride.” When Fortin refused to take the proffered journal, Jack opened it instead. “If you don’t wish to read it on your own, pray let me recite a few passages at the end. This page here, for instance, was written by Philip the night before the duel.”

“I have done my utmost to make Harbage see reason. I went to him tonight and begged him to permit my withdrawal, but he refused. Two pages later, Philip’s words turn frantic. What have I done? As God is my witness, I never intended to shoot Harbage. I aimed wide, to the left. Horribly, it was not enough. As I stared at the muzzle of his pistol, my hand shook.…

“And still later, I have killed a man and now must pay the price. I shall leave my family, my home, all I hold dear. Yet the bitter despair I feel is not for my sake. It is for Gideon Fortin’s soul. Would that I could have taken his place in the cold ground.”

Jack let those revelations sink in before adding, “You see, sir, Philip Wilde only agreed to duel under duress; it was either kill or be killed. And he felt immense remorse and guilt afterward. In fact, he went to America as an act of voluntary banishment, to punish himself. He only took the lady with him after she pleaded for him to save her from retaliation by the Fortin family.”

Silence reigned in the carriage for a moment. Oliver Fortin was still scowling, but he looked a trifle less outraged, so Jack repeated his request. “Will you do me the courtesy of reading the remainder of his account, sir?”

Evidently curiosity was tempering Fortin’s distrust and anger a fraction, for he didn’t refuse outright. “Even if I were to read the blasted thing, I make no promise to draw the same conclusions as you have.”

“You can judge for yourself. The details are all laid out in the pages of this journal.”

“I still do not see the point of my reading it.”

“The point is, the truth may serve to repair the rift between the Wildes and the Fortins. The quarrel has spanned generations,” Jack said sincerely. “Isn’t it time we end it?”

Receiving no reply, he pressed on. “After reflection, you may view my family in a different light. Regrettably, however, we Wildes do bear some responsibility for your loss of rank and fortune. Your circumstances would have been much different had the duel not taken place, and I would like to make amends in some measure.”

Fortin’s gaze narrowed in suspicion. “What do you mean, make amends?”

“My brother is a marquess and my cousin an earl,” Jack said, shamelessly using his noble connections to his own advantage. “Beaufort and Traherne can both provide exceptional social opportunities for your daughter, as can my sister, Lady Katharine, and my cousin, Lady Skye.”

Fortin glanced sideways at his wife, who was watching Jack thoughtfully. The offer had clearly struck a chord with them both. If not for the duel, they would have been wealthy aristocrats. And no doubt Fortin hungered for his grandfather’s former glory—although he looked peeved at having to accept any favors from the Wilde clan.

Irritably, he held out his hand for the journal. “My family will not need your patronage should a happy event occur,” Fortin muttered, a barely veiled reference to his daughter’s prospects of becoming a duchess.

Jack repressed his own scowl at the reminder of Sophie’s likely fate and handed over the journal.

This was only his opening bid at winning her father’s favor, and he had to bide his time, no matter how frustrating he found it to summon patience.

Sophie had spent the early part of the day with her emotions unsettled and on edge. She couldn’t forget Jack’s tenderness the previous night or his stunning lovemaking … how he had kissed her breasts and stroked her to arousal, giving her incredible pleasure and making her writhe in sweet, mindless abandon.

The memory made her flush, yet her larger concern was if and how he would confront her father about the journal.

Having seen Jack waylay her parents at the conclusion of the picnic, Sophie was on tenterhooks to learn the outcome of their encounter. But when she arrived home with the rest of the party, her mother and father had already retired to their chamber—no doubt because Mama needed to rest after such unaccustomed exertion.

However, Sophie glimpsed Jack across the entry hall, standing with one shoulder propped against the wall, as if he was waiting for her. When he gave her a brief nod, suggesting that his mission had been successful, her spirits lifted absurdly. Perhaps his courtship was not too late after all.