A Lady of Expectations and Other Stories: A Lady Of Expectations / The Secrets of a Courtesan / How to Woo a Spinster. Stephanie Laurens
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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, he was away, the carriage sweeping down the drive.
She watched until his dark head was no longer in sight. Then, lowering the hand she had automatically raised in farewell, Sophie frowned and turned indoors. She eventually located Amy in the kitchens, munching on a fresh-baked bun.
“Come, Amy. You should change.”
Bustling the exuberant child, full of prattle, up the back stairs, Sophie was jolted from her thoughts by her cousin’s bright voice, raised in innocent query.
“Is Mr. Lester courting you, Sophie?”
The breath caught in Sophie’s throat. For an instant, she felt as if the world had lurched. She coughed. “Good heavens, Amy!” The dimness of the stairs hid her furious blush. “Of course not—he was just funning.” She sought for more words—more convincing words—to deny the possibility; none were forthcoming. In desperation, she flapped her hands at Amy. “Come on now, up you go.”
As she followed the little girl up the stairs, Sophie frowned. From the mouth of an innocent babe..?
CHAPTER FOUR
NOT CONTENT WITH her efforts thus far, Fate seemed intent on assisting him at every turn.
As he sat his black hunter in the shadows of a wind-break and watched the small cavalcade come thundering up Ashes’ Hill, Jack couldn’t keep the smile from his face.
Jigson, ever mindful of his place in the scheme of things, had been assiduous in his visits to the tap. Thus Jack had learned that the junior Webbs, accompanied by Miss Winterton and Miss Webb, were to be found on horseback most afternoons. Weather permitting, they would hack about the lanes and fields, but, according to one of the Webb grooms, the track over Ashes’ Hill was currently their favoured route.
As he watched them canter up onto the green swath before him, Jack’s smile broadened. His golden head was a delight in moss-green velvet, the long skirts of her habit brushing tan boots. On her guinea-gold curls perched a typically feminine contraption; he knew she’d call it a hat, but to his mind the wisp of fabric anchoring a pheasant’s feather hardly qualified for the title. Turning, he lifted a brow at Percy mounted on a bay gelding beside him. “Shall we?”
Percy started; his abstracted gaze, very likely visualizing the rival merits of herringbone and country plaid, rapidly refocused. “What? Oh, yes. ’Bout time.”
Jack smiled and led the way forward, out of the shadows of the firs.
Pulling up on the crest of the hill, then wheeling her horse to view her cousins, straggling up in her wake, Sophie did not immediately see him. Clarissa, who had reached the spot some moments ahead of her, had likewise turned to view the vista spread below them. Stone walls and still-dormant