A Lady of Expectations and Other Stories. Kasey Michaels

prevarication. “A liking for children,” she stated. An obvious test; one, she suspected, Jack Lester would pass. He had handled Amy very well, and the boys, too. “And a sense of humour.” He had that, too, reprehensible though it might sometimes be.

      “And I would want a man who was steady and reliable, not given to fits of temper.” Now that was a prerequisite her knight in shining armour might have trouble complying with. Rakes, she had always understood, were totally unreliable. Becoming absorbed with her catalogue, Sophie frowned. “Sufficiently handsome, although he needn’t be an Adonis. Not mean or stingy. And he’d have to be able to waltz. There,” she concluded, opening her eyes fully and fixing Clarissa with a mock glare. “Are you satisfied?”

      Clarissa laughed and clapped her hands, making Sophie wince. “But that’s famous! Mr. Lester might be just the man for you.”

      Abruptly, Sophie stood, disguising the sudden movement with a little laugh. “I pray you, Clarissa, don’t let your imagination fly away with you. Mr. Lester’s presence here—and our meetings—have been occasioned by nothing more than coincidence.”

      Clarissa looked slightly surprised by her vehemence but, to Sophie’s intense relief, she forbore to argue. “I expect something must have detained them today.” Clarissa’s tone suggested she could see no other likelihood. As she fell to neatly folding the ribbons of her hat, she added, “I wonder when next we’ll meet?”

      * * *

      AS HE SAT DOWN to dinner that evening in the dining room of the cottage, Jack could have answered Clarissa’s question without further thought. He was leaving Leicestershire on the morrow. Early.

      He said as much to Percy, taking his seat on his right hand.

      “What brought that on? Thought you were fixed here for another few weeks?”

      “So did I,” Jack returned. “But something’s come up.” Before Percy could ask what, he added, “And the weather’s turned, so I think I’ll do better to look in at Lester Hall before hying up to town.”

      “There is that,” Percy agreed knowledgeably. “Ground’s softening up. Not many good runs left in the season.”

      Jack nodded, unexpectedly grateful for the thaw. As he rode very heavy, the going for his mounts would become noticeably harder in the coming weeks.

      “Think I’ll take a look in on the old man,” Percy mused, his expression distant. “Gets a bit obstreperous if we forget him. I’ll go and do my filial duty, then meet you in town.”

      Jack nodded again, his mind busy with his plans. There was no need to hurry up to town. The Webbs would not be receiving for at least another week.

      His decision to quit the field in Leicestershire was prompted by a firm conviction that such a scene as had occurred when he’d hauled Sophie from her stallion’s back could not be repeated. However, thanks to the incident, he was now on good terms with the Webbs and had been all but commanded to call, once in town. Assuming Mrs. Webb approved, there would, he felt sure, be no impediment placed in his path should he desire to further his interest with Sophie in the usual way.

      It was his first, albeit small, advance.

      However, given his turbulent and presently unpredictable reactions, it seemed the course of wisdom to suspend all further activity until his golden head was safe in the bosom of the ton. His home ground, as it were.

      The strictures of Society reached a pinnacle of stringency in London—the strict mores and unwavering practices would undoubtedly prove sufficiently rigid to ensure his wooing followed acceptable paths.

      So, for her sake, and, he reluctantly admitted, his own, he had determined to forgo the sight of Sophie’s fair face until she appeared in London.

      It would be safer for everyone that way.