Jack’s smile gleamed in the moonlight. “We’re moored. Off a private park. The men left us nearly an hour ago.” He reached up to spread out her curling hair, released from its moorings. “They’ll come back later and take us home. My carriage will be waiting at the steps.”

Sophie blinked. “You really did think of everything.”

His smile grew broader. “I always aim to please.” He shifted slightly, drawing her more comfortably into his arms and tucking a silk shawl tenderly about her. “And now that I’ve pleased you, how soon can we be wed?”

Still slightly dazed, Sophie stared up at him, marshalling her wandering wits.

“Not that I’m trying to rush you, my love, but there are any number of reasons why an early, if not immediate, wedding would suit us best.”

As he turned her hand over to press a kiss into her palm, and the touch of his lips stirred the embers that were only now dying within her, Sophie abruptly nodded. “I see your point.” She stopped to clear her throat, amazed she could think at all. “My father’s due back for a quick visit next month-can we wait until then?”

Jack raised his head to look down at her. “It might be hard.” He smiled, his usual crooked smile. “But I suspect we can wait until then.”

Sophie sighed, deeply content. She put up a hand to brush back the dark locks from his forehead. “You’ll have to marry me; you’ve thoroughly compromised me. We’ve been away for far too long.”

“I always intended to marry you. From the moment I first saw you in Lady Asfordby’s ballroom.”

Sophie studied his face in the moonlight. “Did you really?”

“From the moment I saw you dancing with that upstart Marston,” Jack admitted. “I was smitten then and there.”

“Oh, Jack!”

After the necessary exchange of affection brought on by that revelation, Sophie was the first to return to reality. “Dear Heaven,” she exclaimed weakly. “We’ve been gone for hours.”

Jack caught the hint of concern dawning in her voice. “Don’t worry. Horatio knows you’re with me.”

Fascinated, Sophie stared at him. “Did you tell my aunt, too?”

“Good God.” Jack shuddered. “What a horrible thought. If I had, I’d lay odds she’d have given me instructions. I don’t think my pride could have stood it.” Jack dropped a soft kiss on one delectable rosy peak. “Your aunt, my love, is just plain dangerous.”

Privately, Sophie agreed but was far too distracted to find words to say so. Sometime later, her mind drifting in dazed consideration of the future he had spread before her, the home, the family-everything she had ever wanted-with him by her side, she returned to his point. “Speaking of marriage, sir, you have not yet asked me to marry you.”

“I have-you quibbled and refused.”

Sophie smiled into the night. “But you’re supposed to ask me again, now that my uncle has given me permission to receive your addresses.”

Jack sighed lustily, then shifted to move over her, one elbow planted on either side, his expression arrogantly commanding. His eyes, deep dark pools within which passion still smouldered, transfixed her.

“Very well, Miss Winterton. For the very last time-will you marry me? I realize, of course, that you are only a lady of expectations and not an heiress. However, as it transpires, I neither need nor want a wealthy bride. You, my beautiful, desirable Sophie-” Jack bent his head to do homage to her lips “-will do just wonderfully. You, my love, fulfil all my expectations.” Another kiss stole her breath. “Every last one.”

A soft smile curving her lips, her gaze misty with happiness, Sophie reached up to slide her arms about his neck. Her acceptance was delivered, not in words but in those actions which, to her mind, and Jack’s spoke best.

AS THE WEBB CARRIAGE rocked into motion, leaving the shadows of Vauxhall behind, Lucilla sank back against the squabs. On the opposite seat, Jeremy and George yawned and closed their eyes, their faces wreathed in seraphic smiles. Behind, in the smaller carriage, Toby, Ned and Clarissa were doubtless still exclaiming over their exciting evening. Lucilla, however, was not impressed.

She had just been informed that Jack would be returning Sophie to Mount Street by a different route.

It was several long moments before she trusted herself to speak.

“And you told me not to meddle.” With an audible humph, she cast a disgusted glance at her spouse.

Horatio was too wise to answer. He smiled serenely, glancing upriver as the carriage rattled over the bridge.

Stephanie Laurens

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