“I’m sure Mrs. Webb knows what’s best” was his verdict.
Sophie bit her lip.
After a moment’s blank astonishment, Clarissa stiffened slightly. When no expression of empathetic understanding joined Ned’s bare statement, she pointedly looked ahead.
Jack grinned and drew back, sure Ned would not again lapse into his habitually easy relationship with Clarissa. At least, not today.
“Are we allowed to gallop in the Park, sir?” Toby brought his bay hunter up alongside Jack’s black.
At twenty, brown-haired and blue-eyed with the same innate elegance that characterized Lucilla, Toby struck Jack as the sort to be up to all the usual larks, yet wise enough to avoid the grief that often overtook his peers. There was a glimmer of wisdom already detectable in his blue-grey eyes. No doubt, Jack mused, he had inherited his parents’ brains. “You and your younger brothers and sister could conceivably do so. However, neither Miss Webb nor Miss Winterton would be wise to attempt the feat.”
Toby wrinkled his nose. “The usual stuffy notions?”
Jack nodded. “As you say.”
Lifting a brow at Sophie, and seeing her smile, Toby grinned ruefully. “Sorry, Sophie.” Then, turning to his younger siblings, he waved his quirt and challenged, “Last to the oak at the other end of the turf gets to tell Mama what happened today!”
His three juniors responded immediately. All four thundered off.
Exchanging an indulgent smile, Jack and Sophie set their horses into a mild canter in their wake. Ned and Clarissa fell in behind. As they broke from the cover of the long ride and slowed, Sophie noticed their presence was attracting considerable interest. She did her best to appear unaware, until she realized that surprise was the predominant emotion on the faces of the gentlemen they passed.
Turning, she lifted a brow at her companion.
Jack smiled. “I fear I’m not noted for escorting boisterous families on jaunts through the Park.”
“Oh.” Uncertain, Sophie blinked up at him.
“I don’t regret it in the least,” Jack supplied, his smile somewhat wry. “But, tell me, my dear Miss Winterton, if you had to make the choice, would it be town or country for you?”
“Country,” Sophie immediately replied. “Town is pleasant enough, but only…” she paused, putting her head on one side, “as a short period of contrast.” After a moment, she shook herself free of her thoughts and urged Dulcima into a trot. “But what of you, sir? Do you spend much time in the country?”
“Most of my time.” Jack grinned. “And, although you might not credit it, quite willingly. The estates, of course, need constant attention. When my sister left, she bequeathed me a list as long as my arm of all the improvements required.” His brow darkening as a subject that, now, was very close to his heart claimed him, Jack continued, “I’m afraid, before Lenore left, I had not paid as much attention as I should have. She kept us together financially, which was no small feat. Consequently, my brothers and I left the decisions on what projects the family could afford to undertake to her. Although she was not to blame in any way, I should have realized that she did not have an extensive grasp of the estate as a whole, but was entirely familiar with all matters pertaining to the Hall itself. Hence, our ancestral home is in very good repair, but, for my money, I would have given some, at least, of th
e improvements necessary on the estate a higher priority.”
Glancing down at Sophie’s face, Jack added, “I fully intend to resuscitate the estate. I know what’s needed; now it’s simply a matter of getting things done.”
A steel vice closed about Sophie’s heart. She let her lids veil her eyes. Her features frozen in an expression of rapt attention, she inclined her head.
Encouraged, Jack briefly described those improvements he felt most urgent. “I think it has something to do with being the one to inherit the land,” he concluded. “I feel an attachment—a responsibility—now that it’s virtually mine. I know Harry feels the same about the stud farm, which will one day be his.”
Woodenly Sophie nodded, clutching her reins tightly. From her experience of her father’s estates, she knew the cost of Jack’s dreams. His words settled, a leaden weight about her heart.
Distraction arrived in a most unexpected form. A brusque hail had them drawing rein; turning, they beheld Mr. Marston astride a showy dun trotting quickly towards them. As he approached, Sophie inwardly admitted that Phillip Marston looked his best on horseback; his best, however, had never been sufficient to raise her pulse. Now, with her expectations conditioned by the likes of Jack Lester, she knew it never would.
“Good day, Mr. Marston.” Her expression calmly regal, Sophie held out one hand, refusing to embellish the brief greeting with any hypocritical phrases.
“My very dear Miss Winterton.” Phillip Marston attempted the difficult feat of bowing over her hand, but was forced to release it quickly as his horse jibbed. Frowning, he restrained the restive animal and, with obvious reluctance, nodded at Jack. “Lester.”
Jack returned the nod with a perfectly genuine smile. “Marston.”
The dun continued to jib and prance.
Phillip Marston did his best to ignore it—and the fact the dun was no match on any level with the even-tempered black Jack Lester rode. He nodded gravely to Ned and Clarissa, then fixed his pale gaze on Sophie. “I thought I’d take the trouble to find a mount and join you, my dear. I have not, as you know, previously had much experience of town, but I felt sure you would feel more easy in the company of one with whom you share a common background.”
Inwardly bridling, Sophie refrained from glancing heavenwards and searched for some acceptable response. She was delivered from her unenviable predicament by the arrival of her younger cousins, whooping gleefully, their faces alight with exuberant joy.
Phillip Marston frowned bleakly. “Really, you young barbarians! Is this the way you behave when out from under your parents’ eye?”