Lover Be Mine: A Legendary Lovers Novel (15 page)

In the wee
hours of the morning, Jack left Sophie’s bed reluctantly—and more determined than
ever to make her father see reason.

His opportunity came later that day during a picnic luncheon by the lake, when the
guests were preparing to return home to the manor. As the company meandered toward
the line of waiting carriages, Jack sent a footman to intercept Oliver Fortin with
a request for him to travel in the first vehicle with Mrs. Pennant.

When the Fortins obliged and climbed inside, Jack entered after Sophie’s parents and
took the seat opposite. As soon as the door shut, the carriage pulled away, just as
he’d instructed his coachman.

Fortin looked puzzled at first and none too happy to be trapped in a closed carriage
with a notorious Wilde. Frowning, he rapped on the roof and called out to the driver.
“I say, Coachman! You must wait for Mrs. Pennant.”

“That won’t be necessary, sir,” Jack said politely. “She will be following in another
vehicle.”

“What is the meaning of this?” Fortin demanded,
eyeing Jack with active dislike. “I thought Mrs. Pennant invited us to ride with her.”

“No, the invitation was entirely my design.”

He’d needed Fortin’s complete attention and so had manufactured this opportunity for
a captive audience. “Since I wanted to speak to you alone, I am escorting you back
to Pennant Hall.”

Fortin looked irate. “You will turn this carriage around at once, sir. I have nothing
to say to you. Luring us here under false pretenses is most certainly not the act
of a gentleman.”

Jack kept his expression conciliatory, even though the devil in him would have dearly
loved to show his amusement. On the scale of his past misdeeds, a temporary abduction
did not rank in the top one hundred. “You strike me as being a fair man, Fortin.”

“Fair? Of course I am fair.”

“If so, you will give me a hearing.”

“I will do nothing of the kind. You are a trickster, resorting to such underhanded
means.”

“I only require a few moments of your time.”

Fortin started to retort, but Rebecca Fortin spoke up in her soft voice. “Perhaps
we should hear him out, my dear.”

Fortin sat there fuming, yet amazingly enough, he tempered his bluster somewhat. “My
wife has a delicate constitution and ought not be inconvenienced in this deplorable
manner. But since you have connived to trap us here, you may as well have your say.”

Jack had debated divulging his resolve to court Sophie—but decided it wiser to soften
Fortin’s resistance first.

“I know there is bad blood between us,” he began.
“You hold my relatives responsible for the loss of your family’s title and fortune.
But there is another side of the tale.” Jack drew out the journal from his coat pocket.
“This was written by my great-uncle, Lord Philip Wilde. It is an account of events
leading up to the duel with your grandfather, Gideon Fortin, Lord Harbage, and the
aftermath of the tragedy. I hope to convince you to read it.”

“Why in blazes should I?” Fortin asked.

“Because the conflict between our families is built on a fallacy and has gone on long
enough.”

When Mrs. Fortin laid a calming hand on her husband’s arm, Fortin gritted his teeth
and allowed Jack to continue.

“We have all been misinformed about our family history, sir. Our relatives fought
over a lady, true, but it was your grandfather who forced the duel out of misplaced
pride.” When Fortin refused to take the proffered journal, Jack opened it instead.
“If you don’t wish to read it on your own, pray let me recite a few passages at the
end. This page here, for instance, was written by Philip the night before the duel.”

“I have done my utmost to make Harbage see reason. I went to him tonight and begged
him to permit my withdrawal, but he refused
. Two pages later, Philip’s words turn frantic.
What have I done? As God is my witness, I never intended to shoot Harbage. I aimed
wide, to the left. Horribly, it was not enough. As I stared at the muzzle of his pistol,
my hand shook
.…

“And still later,
I have killed a man and now must pay the price. I shall leave my family, my home,
all I hold dear. Yet the bitter despair I feel is not for my
sake. It is for Gideon Fortin’s soul. Would that I could have taken his place in the
cold ground
.”

Jack let those revelations sink in before adding, “You see, sir, Philip Wilde only
agreed to duel under duress; it was either kill or be killed. And he felt immense
remorse and guilt afterward. In fact, he went to America as an act of voluntary banishment,
to punish himself. He only took the lady with him after she pleaded for him to save
her from retaliation by the Fortin family.”

Silence reigned in the carriage for a moment. Oliver Fortin was still scowling, but
he looked a trifle less outraged, so Jack repeated his request. “Will you do me the
courtesy of reading the remainder of his account, sir?”

Evidently curiosity was tempering Fortin’s distrust and anger a fraction, for he didn’t
refuse outright. “Even if I were to read the blasted thing, I make no promise to draw
the same conclusions as you have.”

“You can judge for yourself. The details are all laid out in the pages of this journal.”

“I still do not see the point of my reading it.”

“The point is, the truth may serve to repair the rift between the Wildes and the Fortins.
The quarrel has spanned generations,” Jack said sincerely. “Isn’t it time we end it?”

Receiving no reply, he pressed on. “After reflection, you may view my family in a
different light. Regrettably, however, we Wildes do bear some responsibility for your
loss of rank and fortune. Your circumstances would have been much different had the
duel not taken place, and I would like to make amends in some measure.”

Fortin’s gaze narrowed in suspicion. “What do you mean, make amends?”

“My brother is a marquess and my cousin an earl,” Jack said, shamelessly using his
noble connections to his own advantage. “Beaufort and Traherne can both provide exceptional
social opportunities for your daughter, as can my sister, Lady Katharine, and my cousin,
Lady Skye.”

Fortin glanced sideways at his wife, who was watching Jack thoughtfully. The offer
had clearly struck a chord with them both. If not for the duel, they would have been
wealthy aristocrats. And no doubt Fortin hungered for his grandfather’s former glory—although
he looked peeved at having to accept any favors from the Wilde clan.

Irritably, he held out his hand for the journal. “My family will not need your patronage
should a happy event occur,” Fortin muttered, a barely veiled reference to his daughter’s
prospects of becoming a duchess.

Jack repressed his own scowl at the reminder of Sophie’s likely fate and handed over
the journal.

This was only his opening bid at winning her father’s favor, and he had to bide his
time, no matter how frustrating he found it to summon patience.

Sophie had spent the early part of the day with her emotions unsettled and on edge.
She couldn’t forget Jack’s tenderness the previous night or his stunning lovemaking … how
he had kissed her breasts and stroked her to arousal, giving her incredible pleasure
and making her writhe in sweet, mindless abandon.

The memory made her flush, yet her larger concern
was if and how he would confront her father about the journal.

Having seen Jack waylay her parents at the conclusion of the picnic, Sophie was on
tenterhooks to learn the outcome of their encounter. But when she arrived home with
the rest of the party, her mother and father had already retired to their chamber—no
doubt because Mama needed to rest after such unaccustomed exertion.

However, Sophie glimpsed Jack across the entry hall, standing with one shoulder propped
against the wall, as if he was waiting for her. When he gave her a brief nod, suggesting
that his mission had been successful, her spirits lifted absurdly. Perhaps his courtship
was not too late after all.

For the rest of the afternoon she was swept up in overseeing final arrangements for
the assembly to be held that evening at the Hall. The neighboring gentry were invited
to join Mrs. Pennant’s houseguests for dancing and supper, and the staff required
direction for setting up the buffet tables and repositioning furniture to make room
for the small orchestra.

With barely an hour to spare, Sophie went upstairs to dress. No sooner had she reached
the upper floor when she saw Lady Skye approaching from the guest wing corridor. Already
garbed in her evening finery, the fair-haired beauty looked breathtakingly lovely
in a gown of ice-blue lace over a skirt of sapphire-blue satin.

Surprisingly, Lady Skye paused to speak to her. “I know you are quite busy, Sophie,
but I would like a private word with you whenever you have a free moment.”

Having long wanted the opportunity to speak with Skye privately, Sophie readily agreed.
“Of course. I must dress for the assembly just now, but if you don’t mind talking
while I arrange my hair, you could accompany me to my bedchamber.”

“I don’t mind in the least.”

Leading the way, Sophie invited her guest inside and offered her a seat in a wing
chair.

When Sophie sat down at her dressing table and began removing the pins from her hair,
Skye surprised her again by saying, “You have lovely hair. So vibrant and rich.”

Sophie gave a soft laugh. “Thank you for the compliment, but I have difficulty taming
so many curls.”

“Would you like my help?” Skye asked.

“You are kind, but I’ve learned to manage on my own since I don’t have a personal
maid. My aunt sometimes spares her dresser to assist me for formal functions, but
this evening she is attending to my mother.”

As Sophie began brushing her unruly tresses, she glanced in the mirror at her visitor.
“What did you wish to discuss?”

“Mostly I would like to put in a good word for my cousin Jack.”

“Oh?”

“I understand he gave the journal to your father. I do hope it ends the dissension
between our families. I would very much like for us to be friends.”

“As would I,” Sophie replied earnestly.

“And I would dearly love to have you as a cousin.”

Sophie felt color rise to her cheeks.

At her response, Skye smiled charmingly. “I know I
am leaping ahead of myself, and no doubt it is impertinent of me, but I want to aid
Jack’s courtship any way I can.”

Sophie shook her head. “I don’t believe he is actually serious about courting me.
He is just playing a game.”

Skye shook her head. “Oh, no, he is quite serious. He may joke about enacting
Romeo and Juliet
, but he would never be so cruel as to dally with a lady’s affections and lead her
to have false hopes about matrimony.”

“What did he say about his intentions toward me?”

“Nothing of any great import. Prying information from Jack is like drawing water from
stone. He never promotes himself either, which is why I feel the need to laud him.
Also, I want you to know that the Wilde family would eagerly welcome you into our
ranks.”

Appreciative of the bald declaration, Sophie gave a faint smile. “I am flattered,
truly, but my circumstances may not allow me to entertain his suit.”

“I know. You must honor your father’s wishes. But if you
were
free … The thing is, Sophie, I am worried that you only see the rakish side of Jack.
I assure you, there is much more to him than meets the eye.”

“What do you mean?” she asked curiously.

Suddenly looking solemn, Skye hesitated. “This is rather delicate.… You see, there
are things in Jack’s past that have affected him profoundly.” Pressing her lips shut,
she grimaced. “Ordinarily I would never dream of betraying his confidences. This is
a discussion you should be having directly with Jack. But I know he will never volunteer
his history himself, and
you need to know what happened in order to understand him.”

At this drawn-out rationalization, Sophie felt her brow furrow.

Skye must have recognized how cryptic her comments sounded, for she gave a pained
smile. “Forgive me, I am not usually so mealymouthed. It is just that I care deeply
for my cousin and I can’t bear to see him hurt. If I tell you, can I trust you not
to use the knowledge against him?”

By now Sophie was highly puzzled. “I cannot imagine wanting to hurt him.”

“No, you are known for your kindness.” Skye nodded as if coming to a decision. “Very
well, then. As I said, it will help if you understand Jack. You need to realize he
will go slowly in any courtship. He is not likely to risk his heart easily. Not after
the trauma he endured as a child.”

“Trauma?”

“You know that Jack was the love child of my aunt, Lady Clara Wilde?”

“Yes.”

“Well, he was only six when he watched his mother be killed by a Paris mob during
their bloody Revolution. He spent that night holding her body, until a corpse wagon
finally came and took her away.”

Shock filled Sophie at the gruesome revelation. Her brush faltered as she met Skye’s
somber gaze in the mirror. “How terrible.”

“Indeed it was, but his story gets even worse. Jack lost his direction trying to find
his way home to their lodgings, and when he at last managed it, all the servants had
fled, English and French alike. By then
Jack’s father had returned to his own country—a principality bordering France—since
the Revolution was growing more dangerous by the day. So young Jack had no one to
turn to. For nearly a week, he lived on the streets, scavenging for food and trying
to fend for himself, until a tavern-keeper finally took him in.”

“Thank heaven,” Sophie murmured hoarsely.

“Actually it was quite the opposite,” Skye replied, her tone grim. “The tavern-keeper’s
scheme was to get rich. He knew Jack had wealthy English relatives, and if he couldn’t
be ransomed, then he could be sold. Jack was a handsome child and would have brought
a high price in the flesh trade. So he was locked in a garret and half-starved for
months as punishment for attempting to escape.”