“Papa!” Sophie interjected in a pleading tone.
Jack could appreciate a father wanting to protect his daughter, but suspected Fortin’s motives were not so pure.
“I imagine your interest in securing Dunmore for your daughter,” Jack drawled with accusatory edge, “is more about improving your own fortunes than hers. Otherwise, you would put her needs before your own greed.”
Fortin glared. “How dare you! I do care about her needs.”
“I beg to differ. I can make your daughter far happier than Dunmore ever could.”
“I seriously doubt that.”
“If so, you don’t know her well. And you clearly have no concern for her wishes.”
“And you do?”
“Certainly I do. I love her and intend to devote my life to ensuring her happiness.”
He heard Sophie’s soft gasp, and when he caught her eye, he saw her shock. Jack kept his own surprise to himself, though. He hadn’t known he would utter those fateful words until he’d said them, but his declaration felt right.
Fortin was still glaring, while Mrs. Fortin pressed a hand to her mouth in consternation.
Jack continued on. “Sophie doesn’t want Dunmore as her husband.”
Fortin turned to her. “Is this true? You don’t want to wed Dunmore?”
“No, Papa, I don’t.”
His features, which were flushed an angry red, showed his struggle to absorb her disclosure. “I am grievously disappointed in you, Sophie,” Fortin finally said. “More than that, I am ashamed. That you would go behind my back in this disgraceful fashion—”
“She is not to blame, sir,” Jack interjected. “I am.”
“Indeed you are!” Fortin exclaimed, his voice rising as he leapt to his feet. The wrath and desperation in his tone implied he knew he was losing the battle. “Enough of this nonsense, your lordship,” he blustered while pointing at the door. “I insist you leave this house at once!”
Mrs. Pennant spoke up. “Remember that this is my house, Oliver.”
As Fortin ground his teeth, Jack realized that emotions between them had gotten too far out of control. He’d let his own frustration get the better of him, when he should have allowed time for his proposal to sink in. Therefore, he held up a hand and softened his tone. “You are right, sir. I had best take my leave for now.”
His offer of retreat, however, came too late for Fortin, who pushed past him and stalked out of the drawing room.
Jack cursed silently—an oath he repeated when he saw Mrs. Fortin holding her fingers to her temples, obviously distressed by the shouting.
Deciding to postpone his arguments before he said something even more damaging, he sketched a bow to Sophie’s mother. “I beg your pardon, Mrs. Fortin, for distur
bing your evening.”
By now Sophie had risen to her feet. “Yes, you had best go, Jack,” she murmured, the distress on her face matching her mother’s. “I will speak to my father and try to make him see reason.”
Jack bowed again to the elder ladies, then favored Sophie with one final glance before turning on his heel to leave.
Sophie watched him go with a heavy heart. The interview had unfolded with even worse results than she’d feared—although Jack’s declaration of love had shocked and thrilled her, and his last, lingering look had been searing.
She didn’t know if he was truly serious, or if he had only claimed to love her to bolster his case, yet she had no time to worry about it now, with her father so livid and her mother so visibly upset. Rebecca had been feeling better of late, but this altercation was threatening her hard-won tranquility. Just now she was gazing down at her lap, plucking fretfully at the fabric of her skirts.
Sophie hesitated, torn between wanting to comfort her mother and needing to implore her father.
Evidently her Aunt Eunice sensed her need, for the lady gestured toward the door. “See to your father, Sophie,” she ordered, sitting beside Rebecca and taking her hand bracingly. “I will stay with your mother.”
Sophie threw Mrs. Pennant a grateful look while apologizing. “Mama, please forgive me for abandoning you like this, but I really must speak to Papa.”