“Yes. It could spur the procreation of grandchildren.”
Prince Raoul chuckled softly at his own witticism—a response he immediately regretted, judging by the way he clutched his injured rib.
Jack felt more than a twinge of concern. “I am glad your examination is tomorrow, your highness. And if we are both very fortunate, you will be alive to see your grandchildren.”
A surprising sentiment, Jack realized, shaking his head at his remarkable change of heart toward his father.
Sophie felt not only heartsore but despairing. Five days had passed since her painful parting with Jack, and they were no closer to settling the bitter feud between their families. It was his apparent surrender, however, that wounded her the most.
When his unexpected message came shortly after breakfast, asking her to meet him at Mrs. Pennant’s home at the hour of eleven, Sophie didn’t dare let herself hope for an end to the pain.
When she arrived, the setting was much as usual: Her parents and her great-aunt were gathered in the parlor, although this time Mr. Fortin was reading aloud to the ladies.
At Sophie’s appearance, her father rose with flattering eagerness. “You came home,” he murmured, holding out his hands to her in welcome.
She hesitated, unwilling to give in unless he himself was prepared to compromise. She glanced at her mother, who wore a surprisingly serene expression but remained silent.
“Nothing has changed, Papa,” Sophie reminded him. “I am only here at Lord Jack’s request.”
“Perhaps something has changed,” he replied slowly, as if forcing the words between his lips. “I have read the journal, Sophie, and I … I concede that your Lord Jack has a point. It is possible that I have been mistaken all these years in blaming his great-uncle, Philip Wilde, for murder.”
“Does that mean you will allow me to marry Jack?”
Oliver cleared his throat. “Well … I …”
Just then Mrs. Pennant’s butler entered the room and politely waited to be acknowledged. “A delivery has just arrived for you, Mr. Fortin,” he announced before handing Oliver a small leather pouch and quietly taking his leave.
Clearly irritated at being interrupted, Oliver broke the official-looking wax seal and opened the pouch to reveal a thin sheaf of papers inside. As he perused the contents, his impatience turned to puzzlement.
“What is it, Papa?” Sophie asked.
A look of genuine confusion on his face, her father glanced up. “These documents are from the Lord Chancellor. I have been nomin
ated for the Most Noble Order of the Garter. I am to be made a baronet by Prince George at the next presentation of the Honors list.”
Her mother’s mouth parted in wonder, while a thrill of hope ran through Sophie. “This must be Jack’s doing,” she breathed.
Mrs. Pennant’s sudden laugh sounded like a gleeful cackle, drawing Mr. Fortin’s attention to her.
“Did you know about this, Eunice?” Oliver demanded.
“No, I am as surprised as you are, Oliver. But I would have expected such a bold move from a rogue like Lord Jack. It seems to me that you now have no grounds to oppose his suit any longer,” Mrs. Pennant said with unconcealed relish.
Sophie’s hope climbed even higher when her mother’s soft voice joined the discussion. “My dear, we should invite Lord Jack to call upon us as soon as may be.”
Her father still looked a little stunned, Sophie noted. But rather than protest or reply with a sour or grudging retort, Oliver nodded slowly. Then, shaking himself out of his daze, he walked over to the bellpull to summon the butler.
To say that Sophie waited on pins and needles was a vast understatement. When Jack finally walked into the parlor half an hour later, she drank in the sight of him.
He gave her a long, penetrating look, then a faint smile of encouragement that made her heart soar. Yet she still found it hard to breathe when Jack faced her father and spoke respectfully.
“You wished to see me, sir?”
Oliver waved the documents at him. “You are responsible for this honor awarding me a baronetcy?”
“Yes. I consider it partial recompense for the loss your family suffered decades ago. My chief regret is that I couldn’t manage to secure a peerage for you.”
Oliver cleared his throat again, appearing reluctant to accept any gift from his longtime enemy, yet all his bluster was gone. At his hesitation, Sophie suspected that gratitude was warring with his pride.