Used to Phillip Marston’s sober declarations, Ned merely grinned and shook his hand.
Sophie smothered a giggle. Jack caught her eye; she looked away, her jaws aching.
Then Lucilla joined the fray. She greeted Jack as an old acquaintance, complimented Ned on his good sense, and, under cover of a rapid-fire monologue on the varied entertainments to be found in the capital, managed to divulge that her charges would dearly like to ride in the Park in the mornings but lacked suitable escorts. “For even when Toby arrives,” she declared, “I would not be happy to allow a group of such innocents to brave the Park without someone more experienced to handle the reins, as it were.”
Stunned, Sophie directed a look of pointed reproof at her aunt. Lucilla pretended not to notice. Predictably, a deep voice answered.
“Mr. Ascombe and I would be only too happy to be of assistance, Mrs. Webb. Would you be content to release your charges to our care?”
Impotent, Sophie watched as Lucilla bent a look of shining approval on Jack. “Indeed, Mr. Lester. I cannot think of anyone I’d trust more.”
Jack very nearly winced but inclined his head in acceptance of her commission. In this instance, her stipulation that he was being entrusted with her charges and therefore, as a gentleman, expected to respect her confidence, was no handicap.
And there was hay yet to be made from the situation. “Perhaps Miss Winterton and Miss Webb would care to stroll the lawns while we discuss the most appropriate time to meet?”
Lucilla’s eyes widened slightly.
Sophie was not at all certain of the wisdom of strolling beside Jack Lester, even in the middle of the Park. Maintaining an appropriate distance was imperative; closing the physical distance between them was unlikely to help her cause.
“What a perfectly splendid idea!” Clarissa turned to Lucilla, her eyes bright and eager.
With a sigh and a lifted brow, Lucilla relaxed against the squabs. “By all means—but only for fifteen minutes. I’ll await you here.”
To Sophie’s immense relief, Phillip Marston said nothing, merely frowning into the distance in an abstracted fashion. Then, rather abruptly, he bowed and took his leave of them.
Jack barely noticed. He handed Sophie down from the carriage, his satisfaction implicit in his smile. She was a picture in muslin the colour of old gold, a fairy princess with a touch of rose in her cheeks.
With her hand snugly tucked in his arm, they strolled across the broad expanse of clipped grass. Beside them, Clarissa, on Ned’s arm, kept shooting shy glances up at him. Very correctly, the party remained together, clearly within sight of Lucilla in the barouche.
Aware, again, as she paced beside him of that strength that seemed an integral part of Jack Lester, impinging on her senses as if she had no defence, Sophie struggled to remain calmly aloof. Just friends—only friends. To her surprise, her companion proved to have a ready line of patter to meet even this occasion, one she doubted he had had much previous experience of.
“The ton seems uncommonly eager to commence this Season,” Jack commented, idly scanning the host dotting the lawns. “I don’t think I’ve seen such a turnout this early for years.”
“My aunt was commenting on that fact,” Sophie returned, keeping her gaze firmly on their surroundings. “I believe that a number of ladies are considering holding coming-out balls next week.”
“My own ball will be held on Friday,” Clarissa volunteered, suppressed excitement quivering in her tone. “Mama says there’s no reason not to get into the swing of things.”
“Your mother is indeed very wise, Miss Webb.” Jack smiled down at Clarissa’s delicately flushed face. A few days of Ned’s company had more
than sufficed to bolster his instinctive liking into solid support. He was quite determined that, come the end of the Season, Ned would retire from the lists with Clarissa’s favour firmly in his possession. “I suspect there are few subjects on which you would not be wise to heed your mother’s advice.”
“Have you been on an excursion to the Royal Exchange, Miss Webb? I’m told the wild beasts are a fearsome spectacle.” Ned’s tone was commendably even, devoid of overeagerness.
Hearing Clarissa, still warily suspicious but too unsure of this new Ned to risk any airs, answer with unaffected openness, Sophie was hard put to hide her grin.
Seeing her lips quirk, and deciding he had done enough today in furthering Ned’s enterprise, Jack slowed his pace.
Sophie noticed. Her head came up. Looking her escort firmly in the eye, she raised a brow at him. When he merely smiled back, maddeningly, she surrendered to temptation. “Am I right, sir, in supposing you are helping Ned to adjust to town life?”
Jack smiled and leaned closer, lowering his voice. “Ned’s a likeable chap. But having come up fresh from the country, he was facing opposition of unfair proportions. I thought it only fair to even the odds a little.”
Sophie felt her lips soften. “Indeed?” she replied, her eyes on his. “So your actions are prompted by nothing more than a passing interest in righting an inequity?”
“I’m very keen on righting inequities,” Jack informed her, his brows rising arrogantly. Then, abandoning his haughty attitude, he added, his tone deepening, “Not that I don’t have reasons of my own to wish Clarissa settled.”
“Oh?” Sophie held his gaze, warmly blue. Caution went winging. “And what might those be, sir?”
“Jack.” Glancing ahead, Jack asked, “Do you think I’m succeeding?”