Jack watched her as she backed away, his eyes dark and solemn. “Sophie … you cannot marry him,” he repeated with more urgency.
Her heart twisting in her chest, Sophie forced herself to turn and make for the door. And she didn’t look back as she left Jack standing there staring after her.
Before she could rejoin the assembly, she had to detour to her bedchamber to repair her disheveled appearance. Unsteadily Sophie re-pinned her hair, then smoothed her gown and pressed a damp cloth to her flushed face. However, there was not much she could do to soften the ravished look of her red, swollen lips.
When finally she felt ready to return to the assembly, to her dismay, she met her mother in the corridor outside her bedchamber.
“You disappeared for such a long time,” Rebecca murmured, “I grew worried for you. Are you feeling unwell?”
Not so much unwell as upset. Her usually calm emotions had turned restive and rebellious, putting her in a fighting mood. “I am fine, Mama. I only needed a momentary respite from the company.”
“Are you truly fine, my love?” Her mother’s searching gaze was anxious, her tone troubled. “Are you perhaps having second thoughts about wedding Dunmore?”
“No, not at all,” Sophie lied.
Her mother must have doubted her assurances, however, for after a moment, Rebecca added in an imploring voice. “I beg you to understand, Sophie. It is not avarice driving your father. We lost one child, and you are all we have left, so naturally we want to protect you even more. We only want what is best for you. Marriage to Dunmore will set you up for life and provide you with security, a home, children. But a marriage of convenience means you must set aside your personal feelings. It would be gratifying if you could marry for love. Had your brother lived, that might have been possible. But not now.”
Guilt washed over Sophie at her mother’s plea, while fresh emotion lumped in her throat. “I know my duty, Mama. I will accept the duke’s proposal if he asks.”
She had to be strong, Sophie reminded herself as she returned to the assembly with her mother. The very things she held most dear were at stake … family, loyalty, love for her parents. They had faced such cruel disappointments in life, had sacrificed considerably to improve her station and marital prospects, she couldn’t hurt them further. She would honor their wishes just as she’d promised.
Her desire to marry who she chose couldn’t be allowed to matter. An image of Jack rose in her mind’s eye … the intense intimacy in his gaze, the tenderness of his touch, the heart-stopping power of his kisses.
Suddenly Sophie felt a twist of longing so strong, she shook with it. Jack made her blood sizzle and her heart yearn. But she had to fight the raw, reckless hunger he kindled in her. And even though their short time together had been a wonderful fantasy, she had to end their liaison at once or she would never break free of him.
Regrettably, when she entered the drawing room, the duke was the first person she saw. His expression brightened, as if he’d been waiting anxiously for her return. When Sophie started to turn away, hoping to avoid him, Dunmore hurried toward her while calling her name.
“There you are, my dear,” he said in a jovial tone. “I was wondering … er, would you perhaps have time …?” He cleared his throat and began again more formally. “Pray, might I have a private word with you, Miss Fortin?”
“Certainly, your grace,” Sophie replied evenly, hiding her apprehension.
She led the way from the noisy drawing room to an empty parlor down the corridor.
Following her inside, Dunmore partially shut the door and offered her a faint smile. His cheer seemed a trifle forced, however, and when he tugged at his cravat, she realized he was merely nervous—a suspicion that was confirmed when he stammered, “I had intended to s-speak to your father t-tomorrow, but I see no reason to d-delay.”
Perceiving where the duke was headed, Sophie felt a knot coil in her stomach. She wished with all her heart that she could postpone this unwanted interview, but Dunmore cleared his throat and began again.
“You must know that I feel a sincere affection for you, Miss Fortin. You see … the thing is …” The rest of his words came out in a rush. “I had best just spit it out or I will lose my courage. Will you do me the immense honor of becoming my wife, Miss Fortin?”
A feeling of panic hit Sophie, and for a moment she remained helplessly mute.
At her silence, the duke hastened to explain. “I feared if I didn’t act soon, some other younger, more handsome fellow might claim you. I am m-much older than you, I know … but I will do my utmost to try and make you h-happy, Miss Fortin.”
His stumbling proposal was awkward but sweet, yet Sophie couldn’t manage to form a reply past her dry throat.
But when the duke’s expression went from eager to worried, she forced her answer between her lips. “Yes, I will marry you, your grace. I thank you for your kind offer.”
Letting out a deep breath in relief, Dunmore beamed with delight. “Thank heaven. I feared you might not … Well, never mind what I thought. You have made me the most fortunate of men. By your leave … I will go and speak to your father at once.”
Stepping closer, he bowed over her hand and pressed a gallant kiss to her fingers, then turned and hurried from the parlor.
Sophie stood there unmoving, feeling dismay roil her stomach.
Her distress was a measure of how much she had changed over the span of a mere week. Less than a fortnight ago she would have eagerly welcomed the duke’s proposal. But that was before she had met Lord Jack Wilde. Before she had come to know him
and begun to hope for the beguiling possibility of a future with him.
She had made the right decision, of course. Accepting the duke’s offer was the surest way to prevent herself from acting foolishly with Jack. Yet as she contemplated what she’d just done, the finality of her situation struck her. She would never have the kind of love match she secretly dreamed of. In all likelihood her marriage would be loveless, passionless, even joyless.