Phillip Marston frowned bleakly. “Really, you young barbarians! Is this the way you behave when out from under your parents’ eye?”

Their transports abruptly cut short, their joy fading, Jeremy, George and Amy instinctively looked not to Sophie, but to Jack.

He reassured them with a smile. “Nonsense, Marston,” he said, his tone equable but distant. “The Park at this hour is a perfectly acceptable venue for the young to let off steam. Later, perhaps, such behaviour would be frowned upon, but now, with mainly young people and families about, there’s nothing the least untoward in such high spirits.”

The crestfallen trio were miraculously revived. They shot Jack a grateful glance and fell in beside him, as far as they could get from Mr. Marston. For a moment, Sophie allowed herself to envy them, before regretfully banishing the thought.

Phillip Marston received Jack’s wisdom with a stiff little bow. His pinched lips and the slant of his brows left little doubt of his feelings. A charged moment passed in which Sophie bludgeoned her brains for some safe topic-not an easy task with Mr. Marston on one side and Jack Lester on the other-before Marston’s particular devil prompted him to say: “I dare say, Lester, not being a family man, you don’t realize the importance of discipline in handling the young.”

Jack controlled his countenance admirably, bending a look of blandly polite enquiry on Marston. As Jack had hoped, Phillip Marston continued, airily declaiming, apparently unaware of Sophie’s stunned silence.

“Natural enough, of course. After all, discipline’s hardly your style, is it? I mean to say,” he hurried on, “that doubtless, having little need for such in your own life, it’s hard for you to understand that others live by a different code.”

“Indeed?” Jack lifted a brow, his expression remote and slightly bored. “I hadn’t, I confess, thought my life so very different from that of the rest of my class.”

Phillip Marston laughed condescendingly. “Oh, but it is.” He waved airily. “Why, I dare say you’d be stunned to know that some of us spend months on our estates, grappling with such matters as tenants and bailiffs and crop rotation.” Oblivious to the flags flying in Sophie’s cheeks, Marston continued, “Not all of us can spend our lives in London, frittering away our money at the tables, sipping, unrestrained, from the bowl of life’s pleasures.”

That was far too much for Sophie. “Mr. Marston!” She regarded him with icy indignation. “I’m surprised, sir, that you even know of such things as life’s pleasures.” The words-so uncharacteristically sniping-shocked her, but she had no intention of recalling them. However, it immediately became clear Mr. Marston stood in no danger of being crushed.

He inclined his head, smiling unctuously. “Quite so, my dear. Such pastimes hold no allure for me. However, I am aware that others find them much more to their taste.” He lifted his pale gaze to Jack’s face. “No doubt, Lester, you find this squiring of innocents not at all to your liking. Playing nursemaid to a pack of brats is hardly your style, after all.” Marston leant forward and spoke across Sophie. “I heard Mrs. Webb trap you into this little jaunt. Dare say you’d rather be anywhere but here. However, as I’ve nothing better to do with my time, I’ll be only too happy to take the responsibility off your hands.”

Ned and Clarissa had drawn closer; along with Toby, who had silently rejoined the company, they held their breath and looked, slightly stunned, at Jack. Indeed, every eye in the party was fixed upon him.

They all saw his slow smile.

“On the contrary, Marston,” Jack drawled. “I believe you’re labouring under a misapprehension. Believe me, there’s nothing I would rather be doing than squiring this particular party of innocents. In fact,” he went on, his expression growing pensive, “I believe if you consider the matter more closely, you’ll see that one such as I, to whom the… ah, pleasures of life are well known, is precisely the most suitable escort.”

The relief that swept the party, all except Marston, was palpable.

Jack’s smile broadened as he met the other man’s gaze. “Indeed, Marston, I wouldn’t have missed this morning’s jaunt for the world.”

Confounded, Phillip Marston glanced at Sophie. Her glacial expression awoke the first inklings of understanding in his brain. His hand tightened on his reins.

The dun, having behaved reasonably for all of ten minutes, reacted predictably, jibbing, then twisting, prancing sideways. Marston struggled to subdue the animal, muttering perfectly audible curses beneath his breath.

Sternly quelling her laughter, Sophie grasped the opportunity. “Mr. Marston, I believe you would be wise to return that horse to the stables forthwith. I confess its antics are making me quite nervous.” She managed to imbue her tones with perfectly specious feminine fear.

Which left Phillip Marston with little choice. His expression grim, he nodded curtly. He left, heading straight for the gate.

“Phew!” Toby came up beside Sophie, a grin lighting his face. “I wouldn’t want to be the stableman when he returns that horse.”

The comment drew laughter all round, banishing any lingering restraint. Restored to their usual high spirits, the youngsters were soon off again. By mutual consent, the party ambled slowly in Mr. Marston’s wake.

Summoning the children, coercing them into an orderly retreat, then supervising them through the traffic kept Sophie fully occupied. But when they turned the corner into Mount Street and the youngsters drew ahead, she glanced up at her companion. His features were relaxed; he looked every bit as content as he had claimed. “I feel I must apologize for Mr. Marston’s behaviour, sir.”

Jack looked down at her. “Nonsense, my dear. It was hardly something you could control. Besides,” he continued, his blue gaze holding hers, “I have yet to see you encouraging him.”

“Heaven forbid!” Sophie shuddered, then, seeing the calm satisfaction that infused Jack’s expression, wished she’d been rather more circumspect. It was, after all, no business of Jack Lester’s whom she encouraged. Taking refuge in the banal, she said, “So the balls are starting at last.”

With a slow smile, Jack inclined his head. “Indeed. And your cousin’s come-out will be one of the first. Your aunt seems set to steal a march on her peers.”

Thinking of Lucilla and her careful scheming, Sophie smiled. “As you say. She’s quite determined to make the most of this Season.”

Clarissa nudged her horse up beside Jack’s. “Indeed,” she declared, unusually pert. “Mama is quite set on my come-out being an unenviable crush.”

Sophie exchanged a wry smile with Jack.

Turning to Clarissa, Jack raised a laconic brow. Obviously, Ned had been faithfully adhering to instructions. “Is that so?” Jack asked. “And what do you know of crushes, Miss Webb?”

Clarissa coloured, then waved a dismissive hand. “Sophie told me all about them.”

“Ah.” Lips quirking, Jack turned back to Sophie as they halted their mounts before the Webbs’ steps.

The junior Webbs had already gone in, leaving the grooms with their hands full. Sophie steeled herself and managed to survive the ordeal of being lifted down to the pavement by Jack Lester with commendable composure.

She looked up-and beheld his slow smile.

“Well, my dear?” Jack lifted a brow. “Was it bearable, riding with me?”

Sophie blushed rosily but was determined to give no ground. Lifting her chin, she looked him in the eye. “Indeed, sir. It was most enjoyable.”

Jack chuckled. “Good. Because from what I understand, your cousins wish it to be a frequent event.”

With an inclination of her head, Sophie indicated her acquiescence.

Her hand in his, Jack looked down at her, his smile a trifle crooked. “Until your aunt’s crush, then, Miss Winterton. Rest assured that, despite the sea of humanity that will no doubt be thrown up between us, I will endeavour to win through to your side.” With a rakish grin, he bowed over her hand.

And let her go.

With a very correct nod, Sophie escaped up the steps, refusing to give in to her heart and look back.

At the corner of the street, two horsemen sat their mounts, apparently discussing the weather. In actuality, their interest was a great deal more focused.

“Well, that’s a relief! It’s the older one Lester’s got his eye on-fancy that.” Hubert, Lord Maltravers, blinked blearily up at his companion. “A hard night followed by an ungodly early start may have taken its toll on my wits,” his lordship mused. “But stap me if I can see why.”

Captain Terrence Gurnard’s lips lifted in a sneer. “Tarnished his image, that’s why. The Webbs are a deal too downy to let their chick fly too close to his snare. But obviously the cousin has enough of the ready to satisfy Lester.”

“Odd.” His lordship frowned. “Thought she had nothing more than the usual. You know what I mean-expectations but no more. Would’ve thought Lester needed rather more than that.”

“Obviously not. The point, thank Heaven, doesn’t concern me. As long as he’s not got his eye on that juicy little plum, he can have the rest of London for all I care. Come, let’s get moving. We’ve seen all we need.”

Side by side, they steered their mounts through the streets in the direction of Hubert’s lodgings, the slightly rumpled figure of Lord Maltravers slumped in his saddle, the handsome, broad-shouldered guardsman towering over him.

“Y’know, Gurnard, I’ve been thinking.”

“I thought you didn’t do that until after noon.”

Hubert snorted. “No. I’m serious. This start of yours-sure there isn’t a better way? I mean, you could always try the cent per cents-doesn’t hurt to ask.”

“In this case, I fear it could hurt.” Gurnard winced. “A very great deal.”

Realization was slow but it eventually broke on Hubert. “Oh,” he said. “You’re already on their books?”

“Let’s just say that one or two moneylenders could scrape an acquaintance.”

“Hmm.” Hubert grimaced. “That does rather cut down on your options.” As they turned into Piccadilly, he ventured, “No chance this last opponent of yours would consider holding your vowels for latter payment?”

Slowly, Terrence Gurnard turned his head and looked his friend in the eye. “My last opponent was Melcham.”

Hubert blanched. “Oh,” he said. Then, “Ah.” Switching his gaze to the traffic, he nodded. “In that case, I quite see your point. Well, then-when’s the wedding?”

CHAPTER TEN

HER AUNT, SOPHIE MUSED, was not to be trusted. At least, not when it came to Jack Lester. Although she had expected to see Mr. Lester at her cousin’s come-out ball, Sophie had had no inkling that he would feature among the favoured few who had been invited to dine before the event. Not until he walked into the drawing-room, throwing all the other gentlemen into immediate shade.

From her position by the fireplace, a little removed from her aunt, Sophie watched as Jack bowed over Lucilla’s hand. His coat was of midnight blue, the same shade as his eyes at night. His smallclothes were ivory, his cravat a minor work of art. His large sapphire glowed amid the folds, fracturing the light. Beyond the heavy gold signet that adorned his right hand, he wore no other ornament, nothing to distract her senses from the strength of his large frame. After exchanging a few words, Lucilla sent him her way.

Stilling an inner quiver, Sophie greeted him with a calm smile. “Good evening, Mr. Lester.”

Jack’s answering smile lit his eyes. “Miss Winterton.” He bowed gracefully over her hand, then, straightening, looked down at her. “Sophie.”

Sophie’s serene expression did not waver as she drew her gaze from his; she had had practice enough in the past few days in keeping her emotions in check. Seeing Ned, who had followed his mentor into the room, turn from Lucilla to make his way to Clarissa’s side, Sophie glanced up at her companion. “Ned has told me how much you have done for him, even to the extent of putting him up. It’s really very kind of you.”

Having drunk his fill of Sophie’s elegance, Jack reluctantly looked out over the room. Tonight, his golden head appeared warm yet remote, priestess-like in a classically styled ivory sheath, draped from one shoulder to fall in long lines to the floor. Forcing himself to focus on his protégé, Jack shrugged. “It’s no great thing. The house is more than large enough, and the proximity increases the time we have to… polish his address.”

Sophie arched a sceptical brow. “Is that what you term it?”

Jack smiled. “Polish is all Ned needs.”

Sophie slanted him a glance. “And that’s the secret of gentlemanly success-polish?”