He answered with a smile. “I can manage, too.”
“Very well. But don’t be a nuisance,” she said to Amy, then, unconsciously smoothing her curls, Sophie went to the gate.
The door opened hard on her knock; Mildred had obviously been waiting. The old dame peered at the curricle and all but dragged Sophie over the threshold. Mildred barely waited for Sophie to shut the door before embarking on a catechism. In the end, Sophie spent more time reassuring Mildred that Mr. Lester was perfectly trustworthy than in asking after Mildred herself, the actual purpose of her visit.
Finally taking her leave, Sophie reached the curricle to find Jack busy teaching Amy how to hold the reins. Depositing the empty basket in the boot, she climbed aboard.
Jack reached across Amy to help her up, then lifted a brow at her. “Webb Park?”
Sophie smiled and nodded. Amy relinquished the reins with sunny good humour, prattling on happily as the horses lengthened their stride.
About them, the March morning sang with the trills and warbles of blackbirds and thrush. The hedges had yet to unfurl their buds, but here and there bright flocks of daffodils nodded their golden heads, trumpeting in the spring.
“So tell me, Miss Winterton, what expectations have you of your stay in the capital?” Jack broke the companionable silence that had enveloped them once Amy had run her course. He flicked a quizzical glance at Sophie. “Is it to be dissipation until dawn, dancing until you drop, Covent Garden and the Opera, Drury Lane and the Haymarket, 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.