Stephanie Laurens Rogues' Reform Bundle (45 page)

“Jack.” Glancing ahead, Jack asked, “Do you think I'm succeeding?”

Although his glance had taken in Clarissa and Ned immediately ahead of them, his gaze had swung back to her on his question. Sophie, her heart increasing its tempo, was not sure how to reply. With a determined effort, she switched her gaze forward to where Clarissa was still viewing Ned curiously, like some specimen she did not yet understand. “My cousin certainly seems enthralled by Ned in his new guise.”

A heartfelt sigh came from beside her. “Perhaps I should take a leaf out of his book? Mayhap Percy could give me some hints.”

At his defeated tone, Sophie swung about, her eyes automatically travelling the length of his elegantly accoutred frame before, realizing she had fallen into his trap, her gaze snapped up to meet his. Warm amusement, and a clear invitation to play this game—with him—glowed in the deep blue. Abruptly, Sophie dropped her gaze and murmured, “Time is flying; we should return to my aunt, sir.”

A gentle, somewhat wry smile softened Jack's lips. “I dare say you're right, Miss Winterton.” So saying, he drew her hand once more through his arm. A few quick strides brought them up with the younger couple.

Ned turned, a glimmer of relief showing briefly in his eyes. But before they could retrace their steps to the barouche, they were hailed from the nearby carriageway.

“Jack!”

They all turned. Sophie recognized Gerald Lester—and his new phaeton. Ned had noticed the phaeton, too—and Gerald had noticed Clarissa. Naturally, they had to pause while introductions were performed and accolades on the phaeton and pair duly exchanged.

“No doubt but that I'll see you at one of the balls,” Gerald said, impartially addressing them all. Then he flicked his whip and waved. “Tally-ho!”

“Puppy!” Jack snorted, but he was grinning.

Sophie watched the expensive carriage roll away, then turned towards the barouche.

One more reason why Jack Lester would have to marry well.

She risked a glance up at him; he was scanning the couples between them and the barouche. With Ned and Clarissa in tow, he steered her clear of any interference, making directly for the carriage where Lucilla sat awaiting them. Sophie bit her lip and looked down.

Gerald Lester was clearly a young gentleman unaccustomed to habits of economy. Jack's elegance declared that he, too, was not one to count the cost in presenting himself to the
ton.
The Lesters, at least those she had thus far encountered, knew their place, knew to a nicety how to behave within the circles into which their birth and estates elevated them. Equally obviously, they thought nothing of financing their expensive style of life on tick.

Well, she amended moodily, perhaps not on tick—but there was little doubt that Jack needed a rich wife.

It was not, Sophie reflected dourly, an uncommon occurrence in the
ton
—families innured to living well beyond their means. She could only curse the fate that had made the Lesters one of them.

Then the barouche was before them and it was all she could do to behave normally, agreeing to ride the next morning in the Park, then acknowledging the farewells, smiling as he bowed over her hand, as if there were no black cloud lowering on her horizon, about to deprive her of the warmth of his gaze.

R
ESIGNED
to the inevitable, Sophie was the first of the Webb contingent to appear in the hall the next morning. As she came down the stairs, buttoning her gloves, a wary smile twisted her lips. She should have expected Lucilla to seize the opportunity to throw Ned and Clarissa together, especially now that Ned had captured Clarissa's attention in what was, for her cousin, a wholly novel way. And Jack Lester, of course, was an undeniably capable escort. The children, for some mystical reason, had accorded him favoured status; he had only to speak and they tumbled to obey. Sophie grimaced. Descending the last flight, she tried to ease the knot of nervous tension that was tightening within her. The situation, she told herself, could have been worse. Mr. Marston might have spoken first.

Busy with her thoughts, her gaze abstracted, she did not see the young gentleman who emerged from the library.

“Sophie! Just the person! How are you?”

Before she could answer, Sophie was engulfed in a hug which owed more to enthusiasm than art. “Toby!” she gasped, recognizing her assailant. “Watch my hat, you clunch!”

“That wispy thing ain't a
hat,
Sophie.” Toby flicked her riding hat, composed of a pheasant's feather and a scrap of velvet, with one finger. “Wouldn't keep the rain off you for a moment.”

“As I should hope you are by now aware, Tobias Webb, having attained the years of wisdom, the importance of a modish hat lies not in its ability to protect one from the elements.” Sophie's severity was belied by the affectionate twinkle in her eyes. “How was the trip down?”

“Enjoyable enough.” Toby assumed a nonchalant air. “Peters and Carmody and I all came down together.”

“I see.” Sophie hid her smile. “Have you seen your father and mother yet?”

Toby nodded. “Papa told me you were planning to ride this morning with Ned Ascombe and a Mr. Lester. Thought I might join you.”

“By all means,” Sophie replied, only too glad of another distraction to counteract Jack Lester. “But they should be here with the horses any moment.”

“I've already sent around to the stables for mine, so I shouldn't keep you. I'll just change my coat.”

As Sophie stood in the hall watching Toby briskly climb the stairs, pausing at the top to greet Clarissa, about to descend, the clop and clash of many hooves on the cobbles beyond the massive oak door heralded the arrival not only of their mounts, but also of Jeremy, Gerald and Amy, who had been keeping watch from a window upstairs.

After whooping in greeting about their eldest brother, who admonished them with mock severity, the tribe descended to whirl about Sophie, eager to be off on this, their first excursion in the Park.

Thus it was that, admitted by a benignly beaming Minton, Jack, with Ned behind, came upon his golden head knee-deep in commotion. However, the expression of resigned calm on Sophie's face assured him she was not about to succumb to the vapours, despite the din.

“Quiet, you vexatious imps!” His firm greeting immediately transformed said imps into angels.

Sophie struggled to keep her lips straight. Jack's eyes lifted to meet hers and she lost the battle, her lips curving in a generous smile. “Good morning, sir. You see us almost ready.”

“Almost?” Taking her hand, Jack lifted an eyebrow, then turned to nod to Clarissa.

“My eldest cousin, Toby, has rejoined the family. He's just gone to change.” Nodding to Ned, Sophie wondered if it would be possible to tug her fingers free of the warm clasp which held them trapped. Despite her firm intention to remain aloof, her heart, unreliable organ that it was whenever he was near, was accelerating. “Toby's a keen rider and would not wish to miss our outing.”

“Naturally not,” Jack agreed, his gaze touching the children's eager faces. “Not when we've such an august and intrepid company as shall make all the
ton
stare.”

He smiled as he made the statement, which was greeted with hoots from the younger Webbs. Sophie, however, was suddenly visited by a vision of how their cavalcade would appear to others in the Park. With a sudden sinking feeling, she realized that Lucilla, in her usual cryptic manner, had made no mention of the children.

As the children fell to fitting on their hats and gloves and swishing their skirts, Sophie lowered her voice to say, “Indeed, Mr. Lester, I would understand if you feel my aunt was not sufficiently open with you—she did not mention the children, and I dare say you will not care to be seen with such an entourage in the Park.”

Jack turned to regard her in genuine surprise. Then he smiled. “If I were a Tulip of the
ton,
I might be concerned. However, such as I am, I feel sure my standing is sufficient to weather being seen with the Webbs,
en famille.
Besides which, my dear, I like your cousins.”

Gazing up into his face, and seeing the gentle amusement therein, Sophie could not doubt his sincerity. It eased her mind and brought a calm smile back to her lips.

Which, to Jack's mind, was a perfectly satisfactory recompense for the trouble he could see looming before him.

Then Toby came bounding down the stairs, his enthusiasm only slightly less than that of his younger siblings. Introduced to Jack, he wrung his hand good-naturedly, nodded to Ned with easy familiarity and suggested they be off.

By Jack's side, Sophie was the last to quit the house. Standing at the top of the steps, she beheld a scene of veritable pandemonium. Luckily, her uncle's grooms had come to hold the horses; used to their master's children, the grooms did not blink as the youngsters rowdily mounted. As Jack drew her protectively closer, Sophie quieted her misgivings with the reflection that, once on horseback, she would not have to deal with her apparently inevitable reactions to his nearness. Riding, when all was said and done, should be safe enough.

It was not until they paused beside Dulcima that Sophie realized that there were hurdles, even when riding in London. Hurdles such as gaining her saddle atop the tall mare.

Jack, of course, saw no obstacle before him. He placed his hands about Sophie's slim waist and easily lifted her up.

Gently deposited in her saddle, Sophie tried to hide her blush, vowing to make a special effort, as of today, to stop reacting that way to his touch. Her heart was thudding madly; the tension within her had twisted tight. She felt the warmth of Jack's blue gaze upon her face but refused to meet it. By the time she had settled her skirts, he had swung up to the saddle of his black and the party was ready to depart.

Determined to appear unaffected by his proximity, she forced herself to look up and smile. She watched as Jack brought his sleek black alongside her mare; with the others ranged neatly before them, they brought up the rear of the procession as it clattered, eager but restrained, down Mount Street, towards the leafy precincts of the Park.

Grateful to feel her cheeks cool once more, Sophie kept her gaze fixed ahead. Jack's black swung his head towards Dulcima's, then snorted and shook his mane, setting his harness jingling. Dulcima calmly trotted on. The black repeated the manoeuvre, this time nudging Dulcima's shoulder. Sophie frowned. Four paces on, as the black turned to her mare again, Dulcima whinnied and tossed her head.

“Mr. Lester.” Sophie felt compelled to support her mare's protest. She turned to Jack, gesturing to the black. “Your horse, sir.”

Jack's expression turned rueful. He obligingly tightened his reins, leaning forward to pat the black's glossy neck. “Never mind, old boy. Delicately reared ladies are always the hardest to win over. Pretend they don't even see one. I know just how you feel.”

For an instant, Sophie's mind went quite blank. Finding her gaze locked with Jack's, she glared at him. Then, with a toss of her head that came perilously close to mimicking her mare, she looked straight ahead, thereby proving Jack's point.

To her immense relief, the gates of the Park appeared ahead. They entered and proceeded down a ride at a leisurely pace, glorying in the sunshine that continued to defy all predictions. About them, the rich smell of warming earth spiced the air, while birds trilled in the branches arching high overhead.

Glancing at Sophie, Jack inwardly smiled. Prey to an unnerving uncertainty, he had not again called to take her driving. But their stroll in the Park had reassured him, even though she had pulled back the instant he had drawn closer. Feminine nerves—that was the problem. He would just have to bide his time, and give her time to grow accustomed to his interest, to become more at ease with him.

So, holding his restless black to a sedate walk, he ambled beside her, his thoughts filled not with the joys of burgeoning spring, but with resigned acceptance of the tales that would no doubt be told in his clubs that night. He consoled himself with the reflection that, as his pursuit of Sophie would keep him in the ballrooms for most of the Season, he would not be spending much time at his clubs.

And if his pursuit of his bride did not keep him sufficiently busy, there was always his self-imposed task of keeping Ned Ascombe from doing himself an injury.

“I dare say the preparations for your coming-out ball must be exercising your imagination, Miss Webb.” Jack cut across Ned to put a stop to what, to his experienced eyes, had been all too much like backsliding.

Caught out, reminded of the role he had been instructed it was in his best interests to play, Ned looked guilty.

“Yes, indeed,” Clarissa readily replied. “But Mama had taken care of all the details. The theme is to be classical, although personally I would rather have had the Rites of Spring. But Mama held that that has been quite done to death these last years.”

Clarissa glanced at Ned.

“I'm sure Mrs. Webb knows what's best” was his verdict.

Sophie bit her lip.

After a moment's blank astonishment, Clarissa stiffened slightly. When no expression of empathetic understanding joined Ned's bare statement, she pointedly looked ahead.

Jack grinned and drew back, sure Ned would not again lapse into his habitually easy relationship with Clarissa. At least, not today.

“Are we allowed to gallop in the Park sir?” Toby brought his bay hunter up alongside Jack's black.

At twenty, brown-haired and blue-eyed with the same innate elegance that characterized Lucilla, Toby struck Jack as the sort to be up to all the usual larks, yet wise enough to avoid the grief that often overtook his peers. There was a glimmer of wisdom already detectable in his blue-grey eyes. No doubt, Jack mused, he had inherited his parents' brains. “You and your younger brothers and sister could conceivably do so. However, neither Miss Webb nor Miss Winterton would be wise to attempt the feat.”

Toby wrinkled his nose. “The usual stuffy notions?”

Jack nodded. “As you say.”

Lifting a brow at Sophie, and seeing her smile, Toby grinned ruefully. “Sorry, Sophie.” Then, turning to his younger siblings, he waved his quirt and challenged, “Last to the oak at the other end of the turf gets to tell Mama what happened today!”

His three juniors responded immediately. All four thundered off.

Exchanging an indulgent smile, Jack and Sophie set their horses into a mild canter in their wake. Ned and Clarissa fell in behind. As they broke from the cover of the long ride and slowed, Sophie noticed their presence was attracting considerable interest. She did her best to appear unaware, until she realized that surprise was the predominant emotion on the faces of the gentlemen they passed.

Turning, she lifted a brow at her companion.

Jack smiled. “I fear I'm not noted for escorting boisterous families on jaunts through the Park.”

“Oh.” Uncertain, Sophie blinked up at him.

“I don't regret it in the least,” Jack supplied, his smile somewhat wry. “But, tell me, my dear Miss Winterton, if you had to make the choice, would it be town or country for you?”

“Country,” Sophie immediately replied. “Town is pleasant enough, but only…” she paused, putting her head on one side, “as a short period of contrast.” After a moment, she shook herself free of her thoughts and urged Dulcima into a trot. “But what of you, sir? Do you spend much time in the country?”

“
Most
of my time.” Jack grinned. “And, although you might not credit it, quite willingly. The estates, of course, need constant attention. When my sister left, she bequeathed me a list as long as my arm of all the improvements required.” His brow darkening as a subject that, now, was very close to his heart claimed him, Jack continued, “I'm afraid, before Lenore left, I had not paid as much attention as I should have. She kept us together financially, which was no small feat. Consequently, my brothers and I left the decisions on what projects the family could afford to undertake to her. Although she was not to blame in any way, I should have realized that she did not have an extensive grasp of the estate as a whole, but was entirely familiar with all matters pertaining to the Hall itself. Hence, our ancestral home is in very good repair, but, for my money, I would have given some, at least, of the improvements necessary on the estate a higher priority.”

Glancing down at Sophie's face, Jack added, “I fully intend to resuscitate the estate. I know what's needed; now it's simply a matter of getting things done.”

A steel vice closed about Sophie's heart. She let her lids veil her eyes. Her features frozen in an expression of rapt attention, she inclined her head.

Encouraged, Jack briefly described those improvements he felt most urgent. “I think it has something to do with being the one to inherit the land,” he concluded. “I feel an attachment—a responsibility—now that it's virtually mine. I know Harry feels the same about the stud farm, which will one day be his.”

Woodenly Sophie nodded, clutching her reins tightly. From her experience of her father's estates, she knew the cost of Jack's dreams. His words settled, a leaden weight about her heart.