Lover Be Mine A Legendary Lovers Novel - By Nicole Jordan Page 0,4
Fortin glanced at the ormolu clock on the mantel. “I fear I don’t have time for a long story. Perhaps you could just summarize the plot for me?”
“Do you mind if I get off my knees?” Without waiting for her permission, Jack rose and settled on the sofa beside her, then reluctantly offered his explanation. “Kate has a theory about the Wilde cousins needing to imitate the world’s greatest lovers in order to find our one true mates. You are supposed to be Juliet to my Romeo.”
Her eyebrows shot up. “This grows more intriguing by the moment.”
Jack made a face. “I don’t consider it ‘intriguing’ that she thinks you and I might suit.”
She stared at him. “Suit—as in matrimony? Surely she is jesting.”
“If you think that, you don’t know Kate,” he said dryly.
“Then she is daft.”
“My sentiments exactly. Her premise is utterly demented.”
“So you came to inspect me this evening?”
“You could put it that way.”
“What role did Lady Skye play in your decision?”
Jack answered that question with even less enthusiasm. “I was heading to an early-morning curricle race recently when she planted herself in my vehicle and commandeered the reins. Short of removing her bodily or forfeiting the race, I had no choice but to promise to investigate you.”
A soft spurt of laughter escaped Miss Fortin. “Oh, no, you would not want to miss a race,” she murmured. “Not a premiere member of the Four-in-Hand Club who is infamous for his neck-or-nothing carriage races.”
The chit was teasing him, if not outright laughing at him, he decided. She continued before he could respond in kind. “Lady Skye is known to be exceptionally persuasive, but you surprise me, Lord Jack, allowing your cousin and your sister to browbeat you.”
“I was hardly browbeaten.”
“No? You barged your way into a private ball uninvited and stalked me here to my aunt’s library because you wouldn’t stand up to them.”
“You do have a point,” he said in a wry drawl. “It is distinctly lowering. No self-respecting chap allows his female relatives to orchestrate his amorous affairs.”
Her musical laughter rippled again, a sound so infectious that Jack chuckled himself. “I admit, you are not what I expected, Miss Fortin.”
“What did you expect?”
“To be frank? A jellyfish with no spine.”
“Why?”
“Because you are letting yourself be browbeaten into an unwanted marriage to Dunmore.”
“Simply because I choose to honor my parents’ wishes, you think I have no spine?”
“You are set on marrying the duke, are you not? You are far too willing to do as your parents tell you.”
She didn’t seem offended by his critique of her, however. Instead, she just smiled that serene, faintly enigmatic smile of hers. “How can you make such judgments when you know very little about me?”
He couldn’t dispute her on that question. And strangely he didn’t want to. In truth, he wanted to know Sophie Fortin a great deal better.
“Perhaps you aren’t such a milksop after all,” he conceded.
Her eyes gleamed with humor. “I suppose I should thank you for the backhanded compliment.”
Such intelligent eyes, such warmth in them, Jack thought.
“I confess,” she admitted, “you are not what I expected either. At least you make a habit of appearing in unexpected places.”
“What places?”
“Besides my aunt’s masquerade tonight? The Arundel Home for Unwed Mothers, for one.”
It was his turn to be taken aback, although he kept his expression carefully neutral. “What makes you think I appeared there?”
She hesitated. “Last winter, one of the maids in our employ fell in love with a scoundrel. When she became enceinte, my parents dismissed her from our household without a character reference. I gave Martha the funds to live at the Arundel Home until her baby was born. I was visiting her one day this past April when I saw you there, meeting with the board of administrators. Your presence was such a curious phenomenon, I made it my business to ask about you. To my vast surprise, I learned you were a trustee and that you have contributed large sums for the home’s operation.”
“I think you must have been misinformed,” Jack replied, fighting the urge to shift uncomfortably in his seat.
She searched his face. “I don’t believe so. But I never did discover how you came to be involved. What kind of rake supports a home for unwed mothers? Unless …”
Suddenly breaking off, she colored in evident embarrassment.
“Unless what?” he prodded, not unhappy to see her rendered speechless.
“Unless you fathered a child on one of those poor women,” she finished candidly.