Lover Be Mine: A Legendary Lovers Novel (5 page)

“It won’t happen again,” she assured her aunt. “I daresay I will never even see Lord
Jack again.”

Mrs. Pennant harrumphed. “A pity.” Then she waved her thin-boned hand in dismissal.
“Well, take yourself off to bed, child. I need my sleep.”

Obediently, Sophie kissed her relative’s wrinkled cheek and let herself out. But as
she made her way to her own bedchamber in the guest wing of the house, she couldn’t
help reflecting on Lord Jack Wilde.

He made her feel acutely alive and set her blood racing. She also appreciated his
sharp wit, even if it was difficult to hold her own with him. She even enjoyed his
shocking, provocative manner, despite his dubious claim of wanting to test if they
were a match.

Regardless of her feelings for him, though, it was pointless to speculate about a
future with him. She doubted he was the least bit serious about her. More likely he
was out to make mischief and was only entertaining himself by toying with her. Or
perhaps his female relatives truly had twisted his arm to meet her.

Remembering Lady Katharine’s outlandish theory about them acting out
Romeo and Juliet
, Sophie shook her head. The very idea was preposterous. Unlike Shakespeare’s play,
there could be no falling in love with Lord Jack at first glance. She could have nothing
to do with him.

In addition to the feud, he was all wrong for her—the opposite of the proper, highborn
husband her parents coveted for her. Although his altruism
was
highly admirable.

It was curious that he wished to keep his contributions
to the Arundel Home a secret. He’d acted as if his championing helpless women was
of little consequence, but Sophie knew he had impacted numerous lives for the better.

His contradictions intrigued her, a known rakehell aiding unwed mothers. Likely his
compassion and benevolence stemmed from his own late mother’s circumstances. But whatever
the cause, he evidently had a great deal more substance than the typical blue-blooded
buck.

Or perhaps her enchantment stemmed from some flaw in herself. Undeniably, she was
secretly drawn to his bold, rebel nature. Lord Jack was a charming black sheep in
a family of charming black sheep. He had fire and passion and was wildly exciting,
rather than dull and pleasantly boring. Of course it was vastly more enjoyable being
seduced by a breathtakingly amorous pirate than having her toes crushed by a kind
but awkward older duke. There really was no contest.

In any event, she needed to remember that it was highly dangerous to associate with
Lord Jack, for he made her feel things she ought never feel. She would have liked
to blame him for kindling this rebellious streak inside her, but that wouldn’t be
fair. Of late she’d felt a vague impatience with her life, a restlessness that had
grown stronger over the past few weeks. The closer she came to securing a proposal
of marriage from Dunmore, the more she longed for freedom.

Yet she had a very specific plan for her future and had to adhere to it. Even if she
yearned for a love match with a man who inspired her deepest passions,
the idea that she could marry for love was merely a self-indulgent fantasy. She knew
her duty. She was her parents’ only child now and they depended on her.

If that meant she was obliged to marry a widowed duke who was more than twice her
age, then she would willingly sacrifice her own self-interests and make a marriage
of convenience.

As for Lord Jack Wilde … Sophie frowned as she let herself into her luxuriously appointed
bedchamber. She was supremely vexed at herself for succumbing so easily to his brazen
seduction. She had wholeheartedly returned his passionate kisses tonight in a temporary
moment of insanity, and she would not let it happen again.

After the masquerade
, Jack made appearances at another ball and then a gaming hell, so the evening was
well-advanced when he arrived home. He was unsurprised, however, to learn from his
footman that Lady Skye awaited him in his drawing room.

Jack heaved a long-suffering sigh, knowing what was to come. Several years ago, he’d
moved out of his adopted brother’s London mansion in Grosvenor Square and into his
own town house in a newer neighborhood northeast of Hyde Park, largely because he
wanted to live his life away from the watchful eye of his loving but meddlesome family.
All five cousins had grown up together and become as close as siblings after losing
both sets of their parents to a tragic shipwreck at sea when Jack was seventeen and
Skye twelve.

It was also a matter of discipline. He disliked being alone and therefore regularly
forced himself to go without company. But since his new home was within a mile of
both the Beaufort and Traherne town residences,
he couldn’t escape his prying relatives for long.

Nor could he escape their schemes.

Jack had been genuinely amused to see Ash made the victim of Kate’s matchmaking these
past few months, but being the target himself wasn’t nearly as enjoyable. Particularly
when two determined Wilde females ganged up on him at once. Evidently, Skye was once
again determined to corner him, this time in his own drawing room.

As expected, Skye had made herself comfortable and was curled up on a sofa with a
book. Her delicate loveliness, along with her pale gold hair and wide blue eyes, gave
her something of an angelic appearance but concealed her high-spirited, mischievous
nature.

When she looked up with an anticipatory smile, Jack cut her off with a peremptory
question. “Why the devil are you here so late? It is nearly two o’clock in the morning.”

“You know why. I want a report on your encounter with Miss Fortin. I understand you
attended her aunt’s masquerade this evening.”

“You could have waited until morning to interrogate me.”

“No, I could not,” Skye replied sweetly. “I would have been too excited to sleep,
not knowing the outcome.”

“Far be it from me to disturb your beauty rest,” he drawled.

Skye closed her book with a decided air of resolve. “Jack, are you going to tell me
what happened or not?”

“Do I have a choice?”

“No. You know I will not leave until you satisfy my rabid curiosity.”

Jack gave another exaggerated sigh, but she ignored his hint that her presence was
unwanted.

“Very well,” he relented. “But come to the kitchens with me. I won’t hold this discussion
on an empty stomach.”

Giving a sage nod, Skye rose and followed him below stairs to the large kitchen. Jack
often had hunger pangs at odd hours, but his cook was well aware of his habits and
thus kept a plentiful supply of leftovers handy.

Upon raiding the cellar, Jack unearthed a roasted chicken leg and poured himself an
ale. Skye, however, declined his offer of refreshments and sat at the servants’ table
across from him, as if prepared for a long siege. “So what happened at the masquerade?”

“I fulfilled my promise to meet Miss Fortin,” he answered.

“I was right, was I not? She is no milquetoast.”

“No, she is not,” Jack agreed grudgingly.

“I told you so,” Skye crowed. “Then you like her, Jack?”

Jack took a quaff of ale to avoid answering. He’d been prepared to dislike Sophie
Fortin out of sheer self-defense, but the exact opposite had occurred. And when he’d
deliberately set out to discomfit her by challenging her to a kiss, his plan had utterly
backfired.

He’d been rocked by the intensity of his body’s reaction. Sophie was all woman, and
her sweetly passionate response to his kiss had brought out the
primitive, possessive male in him. Jack felt another stark tug of desire now, just
thinking of her.

His sister’s lunatic theory was not so laughable after all, Jack conceded, and might
even have a modicum of merit—although wild horses couldn’t drag that admission out
of him at the moment. Not when Skye was looking so smugly triumphant.

Jack sidestepped her query by restating a previous objection. “Kate’s scheme to have
us play Montague and Capulet is completely deranged.”

“I disagree,” Skye declared. “You saw how right she was about Ash. His romance with
Maura proved that the theory works—using classic tales to find our own true loves.
Ash and Maura are perfect for each other.”

Jack couldn’t refute that claim after seeing his brother with his new wife. The raw
devotion in Ash’s eyes when he looked into Maura’s was unmistakable.

“You know they are deliriously happy, Jack. That could be you and Sophie someday.”

He refrained from commenting, reluctant to acknowledge his subversive thoughts. In
truth, the possibility that Sophie was his legendary lover held a strange appeal.
Certainly she roused his lust. And undeniably, their explosive passion had left him
craving much more of her.

She had felt the sharp pull of sexual attraction, he knew. He’d seen it flare in her
eyes, felt it in her melting response beneath him. The mating heat between them was
undeniable.

Yet there was also something special and unique about her, something beyond her arresting
beauty
and physical allure that attracted him on a much deeper level.

“So will you consider courting her?” Skye asked when his silence drew out.

“No.”

At his swift reply, a sound of exasperation escaped Skye’s throat. “Why not? Surely
you can see she is worthy of becoming a Wilde. She is as far from a greedy, spineless
twit as one can get. On the contrary, she is quite lively and speaks her own mind,
in addition to being kind and caring and a genuinely good person.”

Witness Miss Fortin’s unusual efforts to aid her pregnant maid in spite of her parents’
moral outrage
, Jack reflected. She had that interest in common with him at least. Indeed, she fit
the requisites of his legendary lover in several respects.

“How do you know so much about her?” he asked Skye. “She claims she wasn’t allowed
to fraternize with our family.”

“Why, Katharine, of course. Given how inbred our social circles are, it was easy for
Kate to investigate Miss Fortin thoroughly. This past season, we often attended the
same balls and functions, and we’ve watched her closely, ever since she burst onto
the scene and took the ton by storm.”

Reading his resolute expression, Skye continued pressing her case. “You even live
at Montagu Place, although the spelling is different. That seems prophetic to me.”

Jack let out a snort of laughter. “Simply because I live on a certain street hardly
means we are destined for each other.” When Skye started to respond, he
held up a hand. “What of all the impediments to a courtship? Have you forgotten the
feud? Why in deuces would I want to marry into the family of our worst enemy?”

“I know there is bad blood between our families—Oh, that reminds me …”

Skye suddenly held up the book she had been reading in the drawing room, which she’d
carried into the kitchens—a small, worn, leather-bound volume that was faded with
age.

“I also came here this evening to give you this journal. Apparently it is the diary
of our great-uncle, Philip Wilde—the one who shot Sophie’s great-grandfather in a
duel.”

Jack eyed the journal suspiciously. “Where did you get that?”

“Uncle Cornelius remembered seeing it gathering dust among the many tomes in the Beauvoir
library. So yesterday he traveled all the way to Kent to fetch it for you. See, even
our elderly bachelor uncle wants you to have a chance at true love.”

It surprised Jack that his uncle would go to such trouble for the sake of romance.
The Beaufort and Traherne family estates were situated in adjoining neighborhoods
in Kent, and after the anguishing loss of their parents, the children had been brought
together in one household under the legal guardianship of their remaining uncle, Lord
Cornelius Wilde.

Yet the renowned scholar preferred to keep his nose buried in books and had no earthly
notion how to raise five high-spirited youngsters “who ran about like a pack of savages,”
according to his most frequent lament. And now that they were fully grown,
Uncle Cornelius retreated into his books as much as possible.

Skye’s blue eyes were dancing, but Jack resisted the urge to show his own amusement
as she continued.

“I read some of the journal tonight while waiting for you to return home. It is rather
dry, until you come to the part where Philip Wilde falls in love. The young lady in
question had drawn the eye of Gideon Fortin, Baron Harbage, who was Sophie’s great-grandfather—”

“Why the devil does it matter what is in the journal?” Jack asked, finishing his drumstick
and wiping his mouth and fingers on a napkin.

“It might help your suit to understand the origins of the quarrel. And you can always
question Uncle Cornelius further. He is well-steeped in family lore—”

“My suit? Skye, love, I have no suit with Miss Fortin.”

“Not yet, but you could easily initiate one. As for the feud, I cannot believe you
would let that stand in your way if you truly wished to win her.”