Lover Be Mine: A Legendary Lovers Novel (31 page)

Fortin froze and stared up at Jack in disbelief. “Have you gone demented?”

“Not at all. I stand to inherit a princedom now. My father is Prince Raoul de Villars
of Navartania, a small but very wealthy country that borders France, and I am heir
to his throne.”

Fortin looked both incredulous and suspicious. “Is this some sort of spiteful jest?”
he asked Mrs. Pennant.

She shook her head, not bothering to hide her satisfaction. “Indeed it is not. Lord
Jack is now Prince Jacques of Navartania.”

As Fortin looked dumbstruck, Jack pressed his request. “I very much wish to wed your
daughter, Mr. Fortin, and would like your permission to advance my suit.”

Fortin suddenly snapped out of his paralysis. “No, absolutely not. Under no circumstances
would I ever consider such a ridiculous proposal. I will brook no connection with
the villain who slew my grandfather.”

With great effort Jack bit back a sharp retort as Fortin went on muttering. “What
nerve you have.…
The blood of murderers runs in your veins, and I will not have it tainting my lineage.”

“Your grasp of your family history is sorely lacking,” Jack said curtly. “There is
no rational reason to continue the feud, as you would see if you had bothered to read
my great-uncle’s journal.”

Fortin’s jaw clenched. “My objection to your union is not solely because of the feud.
My daughter will not turn down a duke for a foreign princeling who was born on the
wrong side of the blanket. The very notion is anathema. I won’t have you besmirching
the good name of Fortin.”

“Sir …” Jack began, striving for patience.

“Pray, not another word, my lord. I demand you keep away from my daughter. I intend
to guard Sophie from the likes of such riffraff as you.”

“Papa!” Sophie interjected in a pleading tone.

Jack could appreciate a father wanting to protect his daughter, but suspected Fortin’s
motives were not so pure.

“I imagine your interest in securing Dunmore for your daughter,” Jack drawled with
accusatory edge, “is more about improving your own fortunes than hers. Otherwise,
you would put her needs before your own greed.”

Fortin glared. “How dare you! I do care about her needs.”

“I beg to differ. I can make your daughter far happier than Dunmore ever could.”

“I seriously doubt that.”

“If so, you don’t know her well. And you clearly have no concern for her wishes.”

“And you do?”

“Certainly I do. I love her and intend to devote my life to ensuring her happiness.”

He heard Sophie’s soft gasp, and when he caught her eye, he saw her shock. Jack kept
his own surprise to himself, though. He hadn’t known he would utter those fateful
words until he’d said them, but his declaration felt right.

Fortin was still glaring, while Mrs. Fortin pressed a hand to her mouth in consternation.

Jack continued on. “Sophie doesn’t want Dunmore as her husband.”

Fortin turned to her. “Is this true? You don’t want to wed Dunmore?”

“No, Papa, I don’t.”

His features, which were flushed an angry red, showed his struggle to absorb her disclosure.
“I am grievously disappointed in you, Sophie,” Fortin finally said. “More than that,
I am ashamed. That you would go behind my back in this disgraceful fashion—”

“She is not to blame, sir,” Jack interjected. “I am.”

“Indeed you are!” Fortin exclaimed, his voice rising as he leapt to his feet. The
wrath and desperation in his tone implied he knew he was losing the battle. “Enough
of this nonsense, your lordship,” he blustered while pointing at the door. “I insist
you leave this house at once!”

Mrs. Pennant spoke up. “Remember that this is
my
house, Oliver.”

As Fortin ground his teeth, Jack realized that emotions between them had gotten too
far out of control. He’d let his own frustration get the better of him, when he should
have allowed time for his proposal to
sink in. Therefore, he held up a hand and softened his tone. “You are right, sir.
I had best take my leave for now.”

His offer of retreat, however, came too late for Fortin, who pushed past him and stalked
out of the drawing room.

Jack cursed silently—an oath he repeated when he saw Mrs. Fortin holding her fingers
to her temples, obviously distressed by the shouting.

Deciding to postpone his arguments before he said something even more damaging, he
sketched a bow to Sophie’s mother. “I beg your pardon, Mrs. Fortin, for disturbing
your evening.”

By now Sophie had risen to her feet. “Yes, you had best go, Jack,” she murmured, the
distress on her face matching her mother’s. “I will speak to my father and try to
make him see reason.”

Jack bowed again to the elder ladies, then favored Sophie with one final glance before
turning on his heel to leave.

Sophie watched him go with a heavy heart. The interview had unfolded with even worse
results than she’d feared—although Jack’s declaration of love
had
shocked and thrilled her, and his last, lingering look had been searing.

She didn’t know if he was truly serious, or if he had only claimed to love her to
bolster his case, yet she had no time to worry about it now, with her father so livid
and her mother so visibly upset. Rebecca had been feeling better of late, but this
altercation was threatening her hard-won tranquility. Just now she was gazing down
at her lap, plucking fretfully at the fabric of her skirts.

Sophie hesitated, torn between wanting to comfort her mother and needing to implore
her father.

Evidently her Aunt Eunice sensed her need, for the lady gestured toward the door.
“See to your father, Sophie,” she ordered, sitting beside Rebecca and taking her hand
bracingly. “I will stay with your mother.”

Sophie threw Mrs. Pennant a grateful look while apologizing. “Mama, please forgive
me for abandoning you like this, but I really must speak to Papa.”

It was some consolation when her mother nodded.

When Sophie went to find her father, she discovered he’d taken refuge in the study.
At first he refused even to look at her, but then he raised his head sharply. “I forbade
you to associate with that Wilde scoundrel, and now I learn that not only have you
been conniving with the family who is our mortal enemy, you want to marry him!”

Sophie tried to quell her frustration. “If you had read the journal, Papa, you would
see the Wildes were not to blame for your grandfather’s death.”

“Blast the damned journal! I vehemently object to his suit for other reasons, and
you know it. A foreigner, no matter how noble, is nothing compared to an English duke.
You would be a grand duchess, Sophie.”

“And I would be a princess if I married Jack. Papa, his father lives in a splendid
palace. Prince Raoul’s fortune is fifty times greater than the duke’s. Besides, a
title is not important to me. You are the only one who cares about rank. Lord Jack
doesn’t care either. In fact, he adamantly does not want to be a prince. He is only
making such an extreme sacrifice for my sake, so you would approve our union.”

Her father’s gaze grew even darker. “And what of the sacrifices I have made for you?
Your mother has made? This is the thanks we get—betrayed by our own daughter.”

Pain cut Sophie deeply, but she would not back down.

Perhaps recognizing her resolve, her father continued more stridently. “I cannot express
how grieved I am. But even though you care nothing for my feelings, you should consider
your poor mother’s. You will break her heart, you well know.”

She couldn’t refute him, Sophie reflected. She was trying to form a response when
she realized her mother and great-aunt had followed her into the study.

“I mean to put my oar in,” Mrs. Pennant announced, moving to stand before him. “You
are behaving like a veritable ass, Oliver.”

When his scowl intensified, Rebecca chimed in with a quieter, placating tone, attempting
to play peacemaker and mediator. “Perhaps we have been too hasty to judge, Oliver.”
Rebecca turned to Sophie. “Tell me, my love, do you return Lord Jack’s affections?”

A sliver of hope blossomed inside Sophie. “I do, Mama.”

Rebecca searched her face earnestly. “I did not realize it had gone so far.”

Her father made a scoffing sound. “Because you had no idea of her deception. An ungrateful
child is sharper than a serpent’s tooth.”

Ignoring his accusation, Rebecca held Sophie’s
gaze. “I would never recommend his lordship as a reliable husband, but if he makes
you happy …”

“He does, truly.”

“Well then …” She turned back to her husband. “Oliver, would it be so very bad if
we released Sophie from her obligations to us and to the duke and allowed her to wed
Lord Jack?”

“Certainly it would! She is not breaking her engagement to Dunmore only a few weeks
after she accepted his offer. Can you imagine the scandal?”

When her mother refrained from replying, Sophie took a deep breath. “Thank you for
understanding, Mama. Papa, I am truly sorry to cause you pain, but I will not be marrying
his grace, whether or not you approve of Lord Jack.”

Moving forward, she kissed her mother’s soft cheek. “Now, if only you could persuade
Papa to read the journal, I would be forever grateful,” she murmured. “I believe it
is still in his possession since he never had a chance to return it.” Then Sophie
addressed her great-aunt. “Aunt Eunice, may I borrow your carriage for a short while?”

“For what purpose?”

“I urgently need to speak to Jack.”

“But of course. I would drive you myself if I weren’t so fagged from the journey.”
Far from appearing fatigued, however, the elderly lady looked as if she was relishing
the fireworks.

Her gibe only made Oliver more irate—an emotion that was compounded when Sophie turned
and headed toward the door.

“Sophie, don’t you dare walk away while I am speaking to you.”

“I must, Papa.”

“If you leave this house, you will regret it!”

“I know, but I will regret it more if I don’t.”

She kept moving. She had no choice. She had to discover if Jack had meant his startling
declaration of love.

She paused only long enough to fetch her cloak and reticule before making her way
out to the mews behind the house, where she ordered her aunt’s carriage harnessed.

As she waited, Sophie pressed a hand to her abdomen, trying to stifle the butterflies
that were rioting there, brought on by excitement and apprehension.

Once inside the barouche, however, Sophie changed her mind and directed the coachman
to the Duke of Dunmore’s London abode. She could not honorably enter into a new engagement
with another man without first ending her current betrothal. And she wanted no impediments
when she finally went to Jack and freely offered herself to him as his bride.

Sophie felt fortunate
to discover the duke at home. When she was admitted to a richly appointed parlor,
Dunmore appeared surprised yet happy to see her, flashing her a warm smile and taking
her hands in his.

“My dear, this is a delightful development. When did you return from Paris?”

“Just this afternoon, your grace.”

“I was not aware of your arrival in London or I would have called on you at once.”
He glanced toward the door, a question in his eyes. “Is Mrs. Pennant not with you?”

“I came alone. I wished to speak to you on a matter of great urgency.”

His smile faded, whether in disapproval at her unchaperoned evening visit to his home
or concern over what she might have to say, Sophie couldn’t tell.

When he offered her a seat on a sofa, she hesitated. She wanted to let the duke down
gently, for he was a sensitive and kind soul and didn’t deserve the pain she was about
to bring him.

Easing her hands from his, she sat down and beckoned for him to sit beside her. When
he complied, his expression was grave but attentive.

Sophie kept her voice low as she began. “You understand what it is to love, your grace,
isn’t that so? You are said to have loved your late wife dearly.”

His features softened. “I did indeed love her very much.”

“Well …” Sophie hoped her own features conveyed remorse. “I have a confession to make.…
I am in love with someone else.”

“I see.” He did not seem taken aback. “It is that Wilde fellow, isn’t it?”

“Yes.” She gave a pained grimace. “I am exceedingly sorry, more than I can say. I
tried earnestly not to love him, but it was futile. I regret most encouraging your
false hopes by accepting your generous offer of marriage. In truth, your grace … I
came here tonight to beg you to release me from our betrothal.”

Dunmore averted his gaze, not replying.

“It would not be fair to you,” Sophie continued earnestly, “if we were to marry when
my heart belongs to another man. I gave you my word, however, and of course I will
honor it if you wish. I will wed you, and I will promise always to be faithful. But
I truly hope you won’t insist.”

The duke pressed his lips together stoically. “I will not insist, Miss Fortin.”