Lover Be Mine: A Legendary Lovers Novel (19 page)

Dunmore seemed crestfallen at the thought of being apart from Sophie so soon after
their engagement, claiming that he wished to show off his beautiful betrothed in London.
Having no desire to be put on display, however, Sophie was relieved to be spared all
the pomp and commotion, and even more relieved to
put some distance between herself and her discernibly ardent fiancé. Her father, of
course, was displeased by her prospective absence, but Oliver bit back his objections
when Mrs. Pennant insisted that Sophie have a trousseau befitting a duchess.

And so it was that a week after leaving Pennant Hall, Sophie found herself in the
heart of civilized Europe, in a vibrant city rich in history and culture and architecture.
Although the journey had been leisurely, Mrs. Pennant was wearied by so much travel
and took to her bed as soon as they arrived at the elegant Hôtel Portois in the Rue
de Rivoli.

They had hired a suite of rooms—two bedchambers and a parlor—and the first afternoon
Sophie spent alone in the parlor, feeling melancholy and restless. Since Napoleon’s
final defeat the previous year at the Battle of Waterloo, the British upper classes
had flocked to Paris for the sights as well as the exquisite fashions. Yet Sophie
couldn’t summon much enthusiasm or excitement for the promised shopping trips and
countless fittings by a French modiste.

She found little pleasure, either, sitting by the hotel window, gazing out at the
tree-lined avenue, which bustled with carriages and riders and pedestrians. Indeed,
she felt almost numb inside. Was this how it would be once she was wed? Chaffing to
escape the confines of her life, struggling to hide her dissatisfaction, feeling no
joy or much of any emotion at all but depression?

The following day Sophie woke and dressed with the same pall hanging over her, despite
the fact that it was a beautiful June morning and the first day of summer.

Her aunt was still abed when Sophie sat down for breakfast at a small table in the
parlor. She had just been served by a hotel footman when a light rap sounded on the
door. Since they were not expecting any callers, she nodded permission for the servant
to answer.

A moment later, Sophie gave a start at hearing a familiar male voice behind her. The
visitor sounded so much like Lord Jack that her heart leapt. Yet she must have been
mistaken, since he was speaking French like a native-born Frenchman.

Eagerly, she glanced over her shoulder just as Jack strode into the parlor. A thrill
of happiness surging through her, Sophie rose abruptly, nearly knocking over her chair
in the process. “You!”

Jack paused a few feet away, and for the span of a dozen heartbeats, she stood speechless,
drinking in the sight of him.

“I thought by now your aunt would have prepared you for my arrival,” he finally said
in a wry tone, “but I can see I have caught you by surprise.”

Shock was a more fitting description. And joy. Rightfully or wrongly, she had the
overwhelming feeling that her life had begun again.

“What … how …?” she managed to stammer.

“What brought me here?”

“Yes.”

“You, of course.” His slow smile warmed her down to her toes. “You wound me, love.
What kind of welcome is this? I hoped you would be more pleased to see me.”

“Certainly I am pleased—” she said in a breathless rush before cutting herself off.
She was wildly glad to
see Jack, but her elation was beside the point—not to mention utterly inappropriate
given her recent betrothal. “I still don’t understand why you are here.”

“I have your aunt’s blessing to be in Paris with you,” Jack informed her. “In fact,
your sojourn here was my idea.”

Sophie stared at him for several moments before comprehension dawned. “You mean you
colluded with my aunt? And tricked her into coming here with me?”

“I would not call it trickery, but yes, I arranged with Mrs. Pennant to bring you
here.”

She should have predicted that Jack would behave so unpredictably, Sophie realized.
And she ought to be angry, yet her heart felt immensely lighter. He had not given
up on her after all.

Her elation was a sentiment she would do well to quell. It had taken enormous effort
to resign herself to her unwanted marriage, and now Jack would undoubtedly stir up
her futile longings all over again.

At her silence, he prodded her. “Your aunt and I both went to a great deal of trouble
on your behalf, Sophie. You should be grateful that we contrived to delay your wedding.”

Perhaps so, except that any delay would only postpone the inevitable, and now she
would be highly vulnerable to Jack. Doing her duty would be hard enough—and would
be completely untenable if she had to face him every day during her stay in France.

Sophie made herself arch an eyebrow. “Why should I be grateful to find you going behind
my back, making decisions for me without my knowledge or consent? You intentionally
deceived me.”

“It was my only course, darling. I needed a legitimate reason to separate you from
Dunmore. How else could I ensure the opportunity to woo you?”

“Jack …” she said in exasperated tones. “The time for wooing is over.”

He ignored her declaration and glanced down at the table. “I have breakfasted already,
but I don’t mind eating again. May I join you?”

Sophie hesitated upon glimpsing the hotel servant who stood at attention by the door.
This conversation was better held in private. “Do I have a choice?” she asked rather
tartly.

Not replying, Jack ordered the footman to pour coffee and set another plate, then
dismissed him to wait outside the parlor door.

“I didn’t realize you speak such fluent French,” Sophie remarked absently as Jack
held out her chair for her, then seated himself.

“I spent the first six years of my life in Paris.”

His admission was a distressing reminder that he’d lived here with his mother until
her tragic death during the Revolution. But Sophie was most interested in learning
why he had stooped to such machinations with her aunt.

“Why was it so important that I come to Paris, of all places?”

Jack spread jam on a croissant as he answered. “I had to visit Europe, and I needed
you here with me.”

Sophie gave him a puzzled frown. “That makes no sense.”

“It makes perfect sense. I couldn’t let you remain behind in England when I wasn’t
there to challenge
Dunmore for your affections. And this will allow us to finish what we started.”

“What we started?”

“We still need time together to determine if we’re a match.”

Her frown deepened. “We already decided that we are not a match, Jack.”

“We did nothing of the kind. Our courtship was cut short prematurely, before we could
resolve the question. And I, for one, still haven’t made up my mind.”

Her mouth dropped open. “Do you realize how arrogant you sound?”

Jack gave her a quick smile and bit into the flaky roll. Watching him slowly savor
it, Sophie recalled that his near starvation when he was young had left him with imagined
hunger pains.

“Regardless of what
you
decide,” she said, “our courtship cannot continue. I have to fulfill my parents’
dreams for me.”

“I know.”

“And you still haven’t explained why you needed me here in Europe.”

“There is method to my madness, darling. In addition to the feud, the chief impediment
to our marriage is my lack of rank, agreed? Well, there might be a way to overcome
that obstacle.”

Her gaze arrested. “What way?”

“Your father might relent if you could marry royalty. A prince should trump a duke.”

Jack must have recognized her growing frustration with his cryptic replies, for he
finally began to elucidate. “My natural father is Prince Raoul de Villars of Navartania—a
small but wealthy principality situated
between southeastern France and the Swiss Confederation. Prince Raoul has no legitimate
issue—no sons, or any other children for that matter—so he has long wanted to recognize
me as heir to his throne.”

He waited for his revelation to sink in, and when it did, Sophie’s eyes widened. “I
knew you were the son of a nobleman, but not royalty. But how is it even possible
for you to inherit?”

“Given my baseborn birth, you mean? Last year Prince Raoul recovered his kingdom from
the French, but the status of the succession was uncertain. If he died childless,
the crown would go to a distant relative. When he recently took ill, he felt increased
pressure to name an heir of his own blood and so forced through a law recognizing
me as his son, allowing me to inherit the princedom if I chose.”

She stared at Jack in growing amazement. His tone was matter-of-fact, and yet she
caught the flash of bitter anger in his eyes when he commented further about his adversarial
relationship with his father.

“The thing is, I never chose to accept his crown and took immense pleasure in throwing
his offer back in his face. I’ve always made it unequivocally clear that I don’t want
his throne.”

“Few people would turn down the chance to become royalty,” she remarked slowly. “Why
would you hesitate?”

Jack’s gaze darkened. “I have never cared much for my father. To be precise, I sincerely
detest him. I haven’t seen him since I was seven, when he paid a visit to England.”

Hearing the fierce note in Jack’s voice, Sophie searched his face. She didn’t want
to dredge up painful
memories for him, but she did want to know much more about his obscure past. “Was
that before or after you were adopted by Lord Beaufort?”

“Before. Prince Raoul and I have been estranged all the years since, and I refused
to correspond with him. This is the first time I’ve ever tried to contact him. Last
week I wrote to advise him I would soon visit him in Navartania, although I didn’t
wait for his reply.”

“So you just plan to appear on his doorstep and claim the throne?”

Jack’s half-smile held little humor. “It won’t be nearly so simple as that. In order
for me to inherit, I will doubtless be forced to reconcile with him.” Jack gave her
a penetrating look. “Until now I’ve never had a strong enough motive to attempt it.
You are the only reason I could be induced to make the effort.”

Her brow furrowed. “I am honored, Jack, but you should not be doing this for my sake.
I could never let you make such a sacrifice.”

He continued as if she hadn’t spoken. “I want you to accompany me to Navartania, Sophie.
If we were to marry, you would have to live there with me. Before you become my princess,
you should know what you are getting yourself into.”

His phrasing shocked her more than a little. “Your princess? You aren’t seriously
contemplating marriage to me, are you?”

He held up a hand in denial. “For now I am speaking hypothetically—and taking steps
so that we don’t preclude our options. If I don’t act now, there will be no chance
of us marrying should we wish to. Your
father wouldn’t condone our marriage unless I can claim the title of prince.”

Sophie’s shock faded with understanding. It was very unlikely Jack wanted to marry
her for any reason other than to rescue her. And while his gallantry touched her,
she couldn’t allow him to pursue this hopeless course.

Realizing she appeared conflicted, she tried to reply with conviction. “Jack, forcing
you to do something you abhor merely to save me from a marriage of convenience is
not at all fair to you. Besides, there are good reasons I cannot possibly accompany
you to Navartania. For one thing, the long journey to Paris exhausted my aunt. Just
now she is bedridden and too unwell to travel any further.”

“But your aunt is fully supportive of my efforts, since she realizes the significance
of this opportunity for you.”

“Even so, I cannot go anywhere without her.”

Jack frowned. “My trip can’t be delayed. If I am to inherit the throne, it will take
time to put the legalities in motion. And that assumes I first effect a reconciliation.”

Sophie heard the note of urgency in his tone but couldn’t let it sway her resolve.
“You are forgetting an even more important factor than my aunt’s infirmity. I am betrothed
to the duke now. Everything is settled.”

A muscle flexed in Jack’s jaw. “It won’t be settled until you actually say your vows.
Until then, our courtship is not over. Not by a long shot.”

Sophie swallowed past the sudden dryness in her throat. Jack’s adamancy boded ill
for her. If he continued
pressing forward in this unrealistic fashion, he could ruin all her parents’ aspirations
for her. She decided to do some pressing of her own.

“Do you know what I think? This is still a game to you, and you have let your wounded
pride overrule your better judgment. You are pursuing me because you cannot bear to
lose a competition to Dunmore.”

“I don’t like losing, true. But we are long past games.”

“Are we?” She held Jack’s gaze levelly. “You don’t love me. You implied as much during
our last night together.”

His expression turned enigmatic. “I don’t love you
yet
. But I admire you and desire you.”

Yet
. Sophie tried to ignore his startling choice of words. That he was leaving open the
possibility of falling in love with her should not be enough to send her hopes soaring.

“Desire,” she pointed out, “is not adequate justification for me to forsake my family
and renege on my promises.”

“But it is far more than you will have with Dunmore.”

“Still, it is not enough for what you are asking me to do.”

At her answer, Jack looked as frustrated as she felt.

“Answer me honestly …” Sophie pressed when he was silent. “Could you ever love me?”

“Honestly?” The intensity of his gaze was mesmerizing, but her heart sank at his reply:
“Perhaps. Given time. You are everything I would want in a wife. If I were ever to
fall in love, it would be with you.”

Sophie shook her head sadly.
Perhaps
wasn’t
enough. If she succumbed to Jack’s temptation, he might break her heart, and she would
certainly break her parents’ hearts. Even if he somehow became a prince and miraculously
overcame her parents’ opposition, what sort of future would they have together if
he were forced to live a life he’d never wanted, with a father he despised?