A Lady of Expectations and Other Stories (Regencies 6)

Their transports abruptly cut short, their joy fading, Jeremy, George and Amy instinctively looked not to Sophie, but to Jack.

He reassured them with a smile. “Nonsense, Marston,” he said, his tone equable but distant. “The Park at this hour is a perfectly acceptable venue for the young to let off steam. Later, perhaps, such behaviour would be frowned upon, but now, with mainly young people and families about, there’s nothing the least untoward in such high spirits.”

The crestfallen trio were miraculously revived. They shot Jack a grateful glance and fell in beside him, as far as they could get from Mr. Marston. For a moment, Sophie allowed herself to envy them, before regretfully banishing the thought.

Phillip Marston received Jack’s wisdom with a stiff little bow. His pinched lips and the slant of his brows left little doubt of his feelings. A charged moment passed in which Sophie bludgeoned her brains for some safe topic—not an easy task with Mr. Marston on one side and Jack Lester on the other—before Marston’s particular devil prompted him to say: “I dare say, Lester, not being a family man, you don’t realize the importance of discipline in handling the young.”

Jack controlled his countenance admirably, bending a look of blandly polite enquiry on Marston. As Jack had hoped, Phillip Marston continued, airily declaiming, apparently unaware of Sophie’s stunned silence.

“Natural enough, of course. After all, discipline’s hardly your style, is it? I mean to say,” he hurried on, “that doubtless, having little need for such in your own life, it’s hard for you to understand that others live by a different code.”

“Indeed?” Jack lifted a brow, his expression remote and slightly bored. “I hadn’t, I confess, thought my life so very different from that of the rest of my class.”

Phillip Marston laughed condescendingly. “Oh, but it is.” He waved airily. “Why, I dare say you’d be stunned to know that some of us spend months on our estates, grappling with such matters as tenants and bailiffs and crop rotation.” Oblivious to the flags flying in Sophie’s cheeks, Marston continued, “Not all of us can spend our lives in London, frittering away our money at the tables, sipping, unrestrained, from the bowl of life’s pleasures.”

That was far too much for Sophie. “Mr. Marston!” She regarded him with icy indignation. “I’m surprised, sir, that you even know of such things as life’s pleasures.” The words—so uncharacteristically sniping—shocked her, but she had no intention of recalling them. However, it immediately became clear Mr. Marston stood in no danger of being crushed.

He inclined his head, smiling unctuously. “Quite so, my dear. Such pastimes hold no allure for me. However, I am aware that others find them much more to their taste.” He lifted his pale gaze to Jack’s face. “No doubt, Lester, you find this squiring of innocents not at all to your liking. Playing nursemaid to a pack of brats is hardly your style, after all.” Marston leant forward and spoke across Sophie. “I heard Mrs. Webb trap you into this little jaunt. Dare say you’d rather be anywhere but here. However, as I’ve nothing better to do with my time, I’ll be only too happy to take the responsibility off your hands.”

Ned and Clarissa had drawn closer; along with Toby, who had silently rejoined the company, they held their breath and looked, slightly stunned, at Jack. Indeed, every eye in the party was fixed upon him.

They all saw his slow smile.

“On the contrary, Marston,” Jack drawled. “I believe you’re labouring under a misapprehension. Believe me, there’s nothing I would rather be doing than squiring this particular party of innocents. In fact,” he went on, his expression growing pensive, “I believe if you consider the matter more closely, you’ll see that one such as I, to whom the…ah, pleasures of life are well known, is precisely the most suitable escort.”

The relief that swept the party, all except Marston, was palpable.

Jack’s smile broadened as he met the other man’s gaze. “Indeed, Marston, I wouldn’t have missed this morning’s jaunt for the world.”

Confounded, Phillip Marston glanced at Sophie. Her glacial expression awoke the first inklings of understanding in his brain. His hand tightened on his reins.

The dun, having behaved reasonably for all of ten minutes, reacted predictably, jibbing, then twisting, prancing sideways. Marston struggled to subdue the animal, muttering perfectly audible curses beneath his breath.

Sternly quelling her laughter, Sophie grasped the opportunity. “Mr. Marston, I believe you would be wise to return that horse to the stables forthwith. I confess its antics are making me quite nervous.” She managed to imbue her tones with perfectly specious feminine fear.

Which left Phillip Marston with little choice. His expression grim, he nodded curtly. He left, heading straight for the gate.

“Phew!” Toby came up beside Sophie, a grin lighting his face. “I wouldn’t want to be the stableman when he returns that horse.”

The comment drew laughter all round, banishing any lingering restraint. Restored to their usual high spirits, the youngsters were soon off again. By mutual consent, the party ambled slowly in Mr. Marston’s wake.

Summoning the children, coercing them into an orderly retreat, then supervising them through the traffic kept Sophie fully occupied. But when they turned the corner into Mount Street and the youngsters drew ahead, she glanced up at her companion. His features were relaxed; he looked every bit as content as he ha

d claimed. “I feel I must apologize for Mr. Marston’s behaviour, sir.”

Jack looked down at her. “Nonsense, my dear. It was hardly something you could control. Besides,” he continued, his blue gaze holding hers, “I have yet to see you encouraging him.”

“Heaven forbid!” Sophie shuddered, then, seeing the calm satisfaction that infused Jack’s expression, wished she’d been rather more circumspect. It was, after all, no business of Jack Lester’s whom she encouraged. Taking refuge in the banal, she said, “So the balls are starting at last.”

With a slow smile, Jack inclined his head. “Indeed. And your cousin’s come-out will be one of the first. Your aunt seems set to steal a march on her peers.”

Thinking of Lucilla and her careful scheming, Sophie smiled. “As you say. She’s quite determined to make the most of this Season.”

Clarissa nudged her horse up beside Jack’s. “Indeed,” she declared, unusually pert. “Mama is quite set on my come-out being an unenviable crush.”

Sophie exchanged a wry smile with Jack.

Turning to Clarissa, Jack raised a laconic brow. Obviously, Ned had been faithfully adhering to instructions. “Is that so?” Jack asked. “And what do you know of crushes, Miss Webb?”