with Almack’s every Wednesday night?”
Sophie laughed, and ducked the subtle query in his last words. “Indeed, sir. That and more.”
“More?” Jack’s brows rose. “Ah, then it’ll be three balls every night, the Park and two teas every afternoon and more gossip than even Silence knows.”
“You’ve forgotten the modistes.”
“And the milliners. And we shouldn’t forget the boot-makers, glovers and assorted emporia, the ribbon-makers and mantua-makers.”
“Then there are the intellectual pursuits.”
At that Jack turned to gaze at her, his expression one of stunned dismay. “Good heavens, Miss Winterton. You’ll show us all up for the fribbles we are. No, no, my dear—not museums.”
“Indeed,” Sophie insisted, tossing her head, “I fully intend to view Lord Elgin’s marbles.”
“Oh, those. They don’t count.” When Sophie stared at him, Jack explained, “They’re fashionable.”
Sophie laughed again, a silvery sound. Jack smiled. He waited for a moment, then asked, “Will you be riding in the Park?”
“I should think nothing’s more likely.” Sophie glanced at him over Amy’s head. “My cousins all rode before they could walk—literally. My uncle is a very keen horseman and I’m sure he’ll be sending mounts down for us.”
“So you won’t be cutting a dash in a high-perch phaeton?”
“Alas,” Sophie sighed. “Although I have always yearned to handle the ribbons, I’ve never had the opportunity to learn.” Immediately, the curricle slowed. As it came to a halt, she turned to look at Jack.
His slow smile greeted her. “That sounded like a cry from the heart. Never let it be said that a Lester failed to respond to a damsel’s plight.”
Sophie blinked.
Jack’s smile broadened. “I’ll teach you.”
“Here?”
“Now.” He leaned across Amy. “Here, hold the reins like this.”
Bemused, Sophie did as he said, taking the leather ribbons in her gloved fingers, looping them in accordance with his directions. It was a fiddle, with Amy between them.
“This will never work,” Jack said, echoing Sophie’s sentiments. Leaving the reins in her hands, he sat back, his gaze considering. “Just hold them a moment. They won’t bolt as long as they sense some weight on the reins.” He swung down from the carriage as he spoke. “They’re not particularly frisky now; they’ve been out for over an hour.”
Sophie just hoped he knew what he was talking about. Her heart was in her mouth as the leader tossed his head.
Jack rounded the horses and came up beside her. “Shuffle up, Miss Amy, so I can give your cousin her first lesson.”
Startled, Sophie glanced down at him. The leader immediately tugged on the loosened reins.
“Hoa, there.”
One strong hand closed about her fingers, tightening the rein, steadying the restive horse.
Sophie knew she was blushing. With no alternative offering, she shuffled over, followed a delighted Amy across the seat, allowing her rakish mentor to sit beside her. Her first lesson—in what?
She risked a glance up from beneath her lashes; his eyes held a mocking gleam.
“Fie, Miss Winterton.” His voice was low. One dark brow rose. “If I offered a guinea for your thoughts, would you take it?”
Sophie blushed even more. She abruptly transferred her gaze to the horses, thus missing Jack’s smile.
“Now, the first thing to remember…”
To Sophie’s surprise, despite the distraction of his nearness, she quickly mastered the reins, keeping the thoroughbreds well up to their bits. Even more amazingly, he kept strictly to his role of tutor; doubtless, she rationalized, he was sufficiently concerned over the welfare of his horses—and their sensitive mouths—to keep his mind on their safety. Whatever, her suspicions proved unfounded; caution evaporating, she quickly dropped her guard, absorbed in practising the skills he imparted.
Webb Park appeared far too soon.
Exhilarated, Sophie tooled the curricle up the drive, slowing to effect a sedate halt in the gravel forecourt. Her eyes were bright, her cheeks pink as she turned to her companion and, with real reluctance, handed back the reins.
“A most commendable first outing, my dear.” Jack met her shy smile with a smile of his own, his eyes searching hers.
A groom came running to hold the horses. Recalled to his surroundings, Jack tied off the reins and leapt down. Amy scrambled from her perch on the other side and went to natter to the groom.
Sophie slid to the side of the carriage. She made no demur when Jack reached for her and lifted her down. Her feet touched solid earth; she glanced up, and was overcome by flustered shyness. Sternly subduing the sensation, she accepted her empty basket and held out one gloved hand. “Thank you, Mr. Lester. You have indeed proved yourself a knight errant this day. Not only must I thank you for your timely rescue, but also for your excellent tuition.”
Smiling down at her, Jack took her hand. “On the contrary, Miss Winterton, the gain was mine. I’ve rarely had the pleasure of an outing with a lady of such manifold talents.”
Squelching the inner glow that rose in response to that compliment, Sophie shot him a sceptical glance. “Indeed, sir, I fear I’m no different from many another.”
Jack’s slow smile softened his features. “Now, there you are wrong, my dear.” He trapped her gaze with his. “You are quite unique.” Sophie’s eyes widened; he felt her quiver.
Letting his lids veil his eyes, Jack lifted her hand, studying the slender palm, the long, slim fingers. Then his lids rose, his dark gaze again holding hers. Smoothly, he raised her hand and placed a kiss on her inner wrist, exposed above the edge of her glove. “You take the shine out of all the London belles, my dear.”
Sophie’s skin burned where his lips had touched. Her breathing suspended; light-headedness threatened. It took all the experience she possessed to summon an unaffected smile. “Why, thank you, sir. Will you come in and meet my aunt? I know she’ll want to thank you for your help.”
He accepted the dismissal without a blink, although the expression in his eyes was amused. “No, I thank you. I know your aunt will be busy; I will not press my presence on her at this time.”
Holding hard to her composure, Sophie inclined her head. “Then I’ll bid you a very good day, Mr. Lester.”
He smiled then, his slow, teasing smile. “Au revoir, Miss Winterton.”
Sophie turned and climbed the steps. On the threshold, she paused and looked back. He had climbed to the curricle’s seat; as she watched, he flicked the reins. With a last wave,
