Lucilla slipped beneath the covers and snuggled down. She waited until Horatio had blown out the candle before saying, “You don’t think I should…well, find out what the problem is?”
“You mean meddle?” Horatio’s tone made his opinion quite clear even before he said, “No. Let the young make their own mistakes, m’dear. How else do you expect them to learn?”
Lucilla grimaced in the
dark. “Doubtless you’re right, dear.” She reached under the covers and patted Horatio’s hand. She waited all of a minute before saying, “Actually, I was thinking of organizing a short respite from town. The circus of the Season can become a mite tedious without a break. And I wouldn’t want Sophie or Clarissa to become jaded just yet. What say you to a little house party at Aunt Evangeline’s?”
Protected by the dark, Horatio slowly smiled. “Whatever you think best, m’dear.”
It wouldn’t hurt for the young people to have a little time together—time enough to correct their mistakes.
* * *
BUT FATE HAD NOT yet consented to smile again on Jack. And as for Sophie, she was finding it hard to smile at all.
The thought that Jack wanted her to marry as soon as possible was depressing enough. The idea of what he imagined would happen after was even more so. Her dreams were in tatters; Sophie found it increasingly hard to support her serene façade. She had made a habit of joining circles with Belle Chessington, relying on her friend’s unquenchably cheery constitution to conceal her flagging spirits. But her glow was entirely superficial. Inside was all deepening gloom.
She had just returned to her circle on the arm of Mr. Chartwell, who was becoming more assiduous with every passing day, when a deep voice set her heart thumping.
“I do hope, Miss Winterton, that you’ve saved me a dance.” Jack smiled into Sophie’s eyes as he took her hand and drew her away from her court. “I’ve been teaching Ned how to tie his cravat, and it took rather longer than either of us expected.”
Sophie felt her nerves knot and pull tight. Was this, she wondered, as they strolled down the room, how it was going to be later? Would he simply arrive and appropriate her at will? Tensing, she lifted her chin. “I’m afraid my card is full, Mr. Lester.”
Jack frowned slightly. “I had rather supposed it would be. But you have kept a dance for me, haven’t you?”
They both nodded to Miss Berry, ensconced on a chaise, then continued onward in silence. Sophie struggled to find words for her purpose.
Somewhat abruptly, their progress halted and her escort drew her to face him.
“Sophie?” Jack’s frown was gathering force.
Sophie’s eyes met his, cloudy, turbulent, intensely blue. Her heart thudding uncomfortably in her throat, she slid her gaze from his. “As it happens, I have not yet accepted anyone for the second waltz.”
“You have now.” Smothering the dark, almost violent passion that had threatened to erupt, Jack trapped her hand on his sleeve and continued their stroll.
He pointedly returned Sophie to her aunt, some little way from her cloying court. Surrendering her up for their delectation was presently beyond him. His expression somewhat grim, he bowed over Sophie’s hand. “Until the second waltz, Miss Winterton.”
With that, he left her, his mood even more savage than when he had arrived.
For Sophie, the second waltz arrived far too soon. She had not yet regained her composure, seriously strained by the events of the past weeks and now close to breaking. Jack’s arm about her whirled her effortlessly down the floor; Sophie held herself stiffly, battling the impulse to surrender to his strength.
So absorbed was she with her struggle that the first she knew of their departure from the ballroom was the cool touch of the night air on her face.
“Where…?” Distracted, Sophie glanced about and discovered they were on a terrace. But that, apparently, was not their destination, for Jack, his arm still hard about her waist, urged her on. “Jack!” Sophie tried to dig in her heels.
Jack stopped and looked down at her. “You were obviously finding the waltz a trial. I thought you might need some air.”
Sophie relaxed slightly, and found she was moving again. “Where are we going?”
The answer was a garden room, built onto the house beyond the end of the terrace. Walls of windows let the moonlight pour in, silvering everything in sight. A few padded cane chairs and two little tables were scattered about the small room, which was, Sophie realized as she heard the door click behind them, mercifully empty.
Which was just as well, for Jack demanded without preamble, “How much longer, Sophie?”
Sophie swung about and found him advancing on her.
“How much longer are you going to make me suffer?”
Her hand rose as if to ward him off; it came to rest on his chest as he halted directly before her. Feeling the warmth of his body through his coat, Sophie shivered. She looked up into his shadowed face, the planes hard and unyielding, and a small spurt of temper flared inside. How did he think she felt, having to give up the man she loved—and having that man urge her to do it? Her chin lifted. “I’m afraid the decision is not that simple. In fact, I find the attentions of my present admirers not at all to my taste.”