before tonight.”
“Then why was he here uninvited?”
“I believe he was acting on a challenge from a member of his family.”
Her aunt’s thin lips twisted into something resembling a smile. “Leave it to a Wilde
to do something that outrageous. I have to admire his gall, however. In my day, men
were bolder than the namby-pamby crop of beaus who flock around you. But surely you
are aware of Lord Jack’s reputation, Sophie. He is a rogue of the first order, and
the very devil with the ladies.”
“So I have heard, Aunt.”
For generations, the fiery, passionate Wilde clan had cut a swath through the bedrooms
and ballrooms of Europe, and Lord Jack was the worst perpetratorof the current cousins. Reportedly, he loved women and they loved him back.
Certainly Sophie had noticed him before this. How could she not? With his charisma
and brazen, dare-the-world charm, he was impossible to ignore. But she had followed
his career much more closely since spying him at the Arundel Home for Unwed Mothers.
For most society misses—young ladies other than herself—Lord Jack was eminently eligible.
He tantalized marriage-minded mamas and left their daughters breathlessly eager for
his attention. And she’d heard that more experienced females vied for the pleasure
of his bed. He was the sort of hot-blooded lover women dreamed of in dark, erotic
fantasies.
“So did you like it?” her aunt demanded, interrupting her musings.
“Like what?”
“Kissing Lord Jack?”
The impertinent personal question took Sophie aback, but she had only one answer.
“Well … I … Yes.”
He had simply overwhelmed her senses, setting her body on fire while holding her spellbound
in a thick, dreamy pleasure. It was said that the Wildes wielded their legendary charms
like weapons, and she now had personal, incontrovertible proof.
“Thank heavens you enjoyed it,” Mrs. Pennant murmured. “I suppose you would have to
be dead not to. But I worry that your father’s strictures have deprived you of the
simple pleasures every young lady should experience at least once in her life.”
Sophie quelled her surprise at her aunt’s unexpected proclamation. “I do not feel
deprived, Aunt.”
“Well, if you want to indulge in an indiscretion, you could not choose a better candidate.
Lord Jack inherited his wickedness and joie de vivre directly from his mother, did
you know? Lady Clara Wilde fell head over heels for some European nobleman, but they
never married. Young Jack was an audacious scamp in his salad days, although I don’t
believe there was ever any
real
bad in him. In truth, I’ve always found his scandalous deeds amusing—and for a woman
my age, finding entertainment is rare.”
Sophie had purposely familiarized herself with Lord Jack’s outlandish deeds and history
by now. He was the illegitimate son of Lady Clara Wilde, the Marquis of Beaufort’s
shockingly notorious only sister. Thirty years ago Lady Clara had borne a child out
of wedlock and forsaken her family to live in Paris with her lover. When she perished
during the savagery of the French Revolution, her young son had been brought back
to England by his uncle, Stephen Wilde, Marquis of Beaufort, and later officially
adopted.
Sophie, along with most of society, found the entire Wilde brood fascinating. Lord
Jack was actually a first cousin to Stephen’s children—Lady Katharine and the present
Lord Beaufort, Ashton Wilde—and a much more distant cousin to Lady Skye Wilde and
her older brother, Quinn, the Earl of Traherne. Although the Wilde clan boasted a
number of noble titles, Jack’s title of “Lord” was merely honorary.
It seemed Mrs. Pennant was not finished with her inquisition, however. “Setting aside
the impropriety of kissing a strange man, my dear, you realize that you crossed the
line of family loyalty tonight.”
Feeling guilty at the unnecessary reminder, Sophie shifted in