Worth Any Price (12 page)

Sophia turned her attention to preparing the other cups. “Yes, and the flavor is divine. I much prefer chocolate to coffee in the morning.”

“Is it a st-stimulant, then?” Lottie asked, finally managing to jerk her hand away from Gentry. Deprived of his plaything, he gave her a questioning glance.

“Yes, of a sort,” Sophia replied, pouring a generous amount of cream into the sweetened chocolate liquor. She stirred the cups with a tiny silver spoon. “Although it is not quite as animating as coffee, chocolate is uplifting in its own way.” She winked at Lottie. “Some even claim that chocolate rouses the amorous instincts.”

“How interesting,” Lottie said, doing her best to ignore Gentry as she accepted her cup. Inhaling the rich fumes appreciatively, she took a tiny sip of the shiny, dark liquid. The robust sweetness slid along her tongue and tickled the back of her throat.

Sophia laughed in delight at Lottie’s expression. “You like it, I see. Good—now I have found an inducement to make you visit often.”

Lottie nodded as she continued to drink. By the time she reached the bottom of the cup, her head was swimming, and her nerves were tingling from the mixture of heat and sugar.

Gentry set his cup aside after a swallow or two. “Too rich for my taste, Sophia, although I compliment your skill in preparing it. Besides, my amorous instincts need no encouragement.” He smiled as the statement caused Lottie to choke on the last few drops of chocolate.

“Would you like some more, Charlotte?” Sophia offered.

“Oh, yes, please.”

Before Sophia poured more of the magical liquid, however, a tall, black-haired man entered the room. He spoke in an extraordinary voice, deep and gently abraded, his accent exquisitely cultured. “Pardon me for taking so long to join you. It was necessary to conclude some business with my estate agent.”

Somehow Lottie had expected that Sir Ross would be settled and solid and pompously middle-aged. He was, after all, in his early forties. However, Sir Ross appeared to be more fit and virile than most men half his age. He was handsome in an aloof way, his natural authority so potent a force that Lottie instinctively shrank backward into the cushions. He was tall and lean, possessing a combination of self-assurance and vitality that made callow youth seem entirely graceless. His innate elegance would have been apparent even if he had been dressed in rustic peasant garb. As it was, he was clad in a crisply tailored black coat and matching trousers, with a charcoal silk necktie knotted deftly around his collar. His gaze swept over the scene, touching briefly on Lottie, lingering a bit longer on Gentry, then settling on his wife. What strange eyes he had…a gray so piercing and brilliant that it made her think of lightning trapped in a bottle.

Amazingly, Sophia spoke to the remarkable creature as if he were an ordinary man, her tone decidedly flirtatious. “Now that you’re here, I suppose we’ll have to discuss something dull, like politics or judicial reform.”

Sir Ross laughed as he bent to kiss her cheek. It would have been an ordinary husbandly gesture except for the way he finished the kiss with a soft, nearly imperceptible nuzzle. Sophia’s eyes closed briefly, as if the feel of his mouth on her skin recalled tantalizing memories.

“I’ll try to be entertaining,” he murmured with a caressing smile. As he straightened, the light played on the ebony blackness of his hair and picked out the silver streaks at his temples.

Gentry was stone-faced as he stood to shake his brother-in-law’s hand. “Sir Grant told me that you wished to see me,” he said without preamble. “What are you planning, Cannon?”

“We’ll discuss that later. First I wish to become acquainted with your intrepid young bride.”

Lottie laughed at Sir Ross’s implication—that any woman would have to be intrepid, to marry such a notorious man as Nick Gentry. She curtsied as the former magistrate came around the table to her. Taking her hands in his large, warm ones, Sir Ross spoke with engaging gentleness. “Welcome to the family, Mrs. Gentry. Be assured that if you ever require assistance of any kind, you have only to ask. I am at your disposal.”

As their gazes met, Lottie knew instinctively that he meant what he said. “Thank you, Sir Ross. I regret the necessity of keeping our kinship a secret, as I would be quite proud to claim you and Lady Cannon as relatives.”

“Perhaps we can do something about that,” he replied enigmatically.

Suddenly Lottie felt Gentry’s hands close around her waist, and he tugged her away from Sir Ross. “I doubt it,” Gentry said to his brother-in-law. “Since there is no way in hell that I would ever allow such information to be made public.”

Sophia interceded quickly. “Since it is rather too late to have the traditional wedding breakfast, I propose that we enjoy a wedding luncheon. Cook is preparing lamb cutlets, early-season asparagus, and several varieties of salad. And pineapple cream for dessert.”

“How wonderful,” Lottie said, joining her in the effort to keep the atmosphere tranquil. She sat once more on the couch and carefully arranged her skirts. “I’ve never had asparagus, and I’ve always wanted to try it.”

“Never had asparagus?” Sophia asked in disbelief.

As Lottie searched for a way to explain her unfamiliarity with such delicacies, Gentry sat beside her and took her hand again. “I’m afraid my wife was served a rather spartan diet at school,” he told his sister. “She attended Maidstone’s for several years.”

Sir Ross occupied a chair beside Sophia’s and gazed at Lottie intently. “A well-known institution, with the reputation of turning out very accomplished young ladies.” His tone became gently encouraging. “Tell me, did you enjoy your years there, Mrs. Gentry?”

“Please call me Lottie,” she invited with a shy
smile. As she proceeded to describe her experiences at the school, Sir Ross listened attentively, although Lottie had no idea why the subject would be of such interest.

Soon luncheon was served in the conservatory, at a table laden with glittering crystal and flowery china, while two footmen attended them. Lottie was delighted by the indoor trees and the lavish spills of delicate tea roses that scented the air. Even Gentry’s mood seemed to lighten in the convivial atmosphere. Relaxing back in his chair, he regaled them with stories about the Bow Street office, including an account of how the runners had been assigned to inspect the dirty undergarments and shirts of prisoners being held in the strong room. Apparently the prisoners often penciled secret messages in their clothes, which were then given to relatives, who brought new garments for them to wear when they saw the magistrate. The condition of the prisoners’ clothing was often so foul that the runners had resorted to drawing straws to decide who should be given the disgusting task. By the time Gentry had finished describing the fury of a particular runner who always seemed to draw the short straw, even Sir Ross was laughing richly.

Eventually Sir Ross and Gentry launched into a conversation about the problems concerning the “New Police,” which had been created approximately ten years earlier. Since then, Bow Street had remained separate from the New Police, as Sir
Grant’s force of constables and runners were far better trained and more effective than the “raw lobsters.”

“Why are the New Police called raw lobsters?” Lottie could not resist asking.

Sir Ross replied with a faint smile. “Because raw lobsters are blue—the color of the new uniforms—and lobsters also pinch.”

The comment made Gentry laugh.

As the police discussion continued, Sophia drew closer to Lottie. “Do you think that my brother will wish to continue at Bow Street, now that you’ve married?”

“He gave me the impression that he has no choice,” Lottie replied carefully. “The bargain with Sir Ross…”

“Yes, but that arrangement was never intended to last forever. And now that Nick has married, perhaps Sir Ross will release him from the agreement.”

“Why would our marriage have any effect on Mr. Gentry’s position at Bow Street?”

Sophia glanced cautiously at the men across the table. “The answer to that is too private—and complicated—to discuss now. May I call on you soon, Lottie? We could have a nice long chat—and perhaps we’ll go on a shopping excursion.”

Lottie smiled. She had never expected that Gentry’s sister would turn out to be so personable. And it seemed that Sophia was quite willing to shed some light on Gentry’s mysterious past, which
would help Lottie understand him much better. “Yes, I would like that very much.”

“Lovely. I expect we shall have great fun.”

Overhearing his sister’s last remark, Gentry arched a dark brow. “What are you arranging, Sophia?”

“Oh, a simple stroll along Oxford Street,” she replied cheerfully.

Gentry snorted. “There are at least a hundred and fifty shops on Oxford. I suspect you’ll do more than simply stroll.”

Sophia laughed. “You must open accounts for Charlotte at the drapers, and Wedgwood, and naturally the jewelers, as well as the bookshop and—”

“Oh, my lady…er, Sophia,” Lottie interrupted uncomfortably, wondering why she didn’t seem to realize that their finances were quite meager, compared to the Cannons’ affluence. “I’m certain it will not be necessary to open accounts on my behalf.”

Gentry spoke to Sophia with a slight smile. “Lottie may have credit wherever she likes. But first take her to your dressmaker. To my knowledge, she has no wedding trousseau.”

“I don’t need any new gowns,” Lottie protested. “Perhaps one nice gown, but that is all.” The last thing she desired was for Gentry to spend a great deal on clothes for her. Her memories of her parents’ extravagant spending habits, and their resulting descent into poverty, were still very clear in her mind. She had an instinctive fear of spending large amounts of money, and she knew better than anyone
how even a comfortable fortune could be squandered in a short time. “Please, I must insist that you don’t—”

“It’s all right,” Gentry interrupted, touching her shoulder. His gaze conveyed the message that now was not the time to debate the issue.

Flushing, Lottie fell silent. His hand lingered at her shoulder, then slid to her elbow, squeezing lightly.

Thankfully, the silence at the table was relieved by the appearance of a footman, who cleared the dishes while another set out plates of dessert and tiny glasses of sweet wine. The dessert plates were arranged with delicate biscuits and pineapple cream served in cunning little glazed pots.

Sir Ross introduced a new topic of conversation concerning some recently proposed amendments to the Poor Law, which both he and Gentry supported. Surprisingly, Sophia offered her own opinions on the subject, and the men listened attentively. Lottie tried to conceal her astonishment, for she had been taught for years that a proper woman should never express her opinions in mixed company. Certainly she should say nothing about politics, an inflammatory subject that only men were qualified to debate. And yet here was a man as distinguished as Sir Ross seeming to find nothing wrong in his wife’s speaking her mind. Nor did Gentry seem displeased by his sister’s outspokenness.

Perhaps Gentry would allow her the same freedom.
With that pleasant thought in her mind, Lottie consumed her pineapple cream, a rich, silky custard with a tangy flavor. Upon reaching the bottom of the pot, she thought longingly of how nice it would be to have another. However, good manners and the fear of appearing gluttonous made it unthinkable to request seconds.

Noticing the wistful glance Lottie gave her empty dish, Gentry laughed softly and slid his own untouched dessert to her plate. “You have even more of a taste for sweets than little Amelia,” he murmured in her ear. His warm breath caused the hair on the back of her neck to rise.

“We didn’t have desserts at school,” she said with a sheepish smile.

He took his napkin and dabbed gently at the corner of her mouth. “I can see that I’ll have a devil of a time trying to compensate for all the things you were deprived of. I suppose you’ll want sweets with every meal now.”

Pausing in the act of lifting her spoon, Lottie stared into the warm blue eyes so close to hers, and suddenly she felt wreathed in heat. Ridiculous, that all he had to do was speak with that caressing note in his voice, and she could be so thoroughly undone.

Sir Ross studied the pair of them with an all-engulfing glance. “Gentry, there is a matter I would take up with you. Undoubtedly there are better ways to reveal my thoughts concerning your future, but I confess that I can’t think of them. Your circumstances
are unusual.” He paused and smiled ruefully. “That is an understatement, of course. The twists and turns of your life have been nothing if not bizarre.”

Gentry sat back with languid grace, appearing relaxed, but Lottie sensed the apprehension that coiled inside him. “I haven’t asked you to consider my future.”

“I have, nonetheless. During the past three years that I have followed your career—”

“Followed?” Gentry interrupted dryly. “More like manipulated, meddled, and interfered.”

Inured to semantics after so many years on the bench, Sir Ross shrugged. “I’ve done as I thought best. Bear in mind that in my dealings with you, I’ve also had Sophia’s interests to consider. She is the only reason I kept you from the gallows. She believed there was potential for goodness in you. And though I didn’t see it back then, I am willing to admit now that she was right. You are not the complete villain I thought you to be.”

Gentry smiled coolly, aware that he was being damned with faint praise. “In return, let me say that you are not completely the hypocritical cold fish I thought you to be.”

“Nick,” Sophia scolded, and laid her slender hand over Sir Ross’s large one. “My husband has never had a hypocritical thought in his life. And as for his being a cold fish, I can assure you most definitely that he is not. Furthermore—”

“Sophia,” Sir Ross interrupted softly, “you don’t have to defend me, my love.”

“Well, you’re
not,
” she insisted.

His hand turned palm up to grip hers, and for just a moment the pair stared at their interlaced fingers with a shared pleasure that seemed unspeakably intimate. Lottie felt a peculiar ache in her chest. What must it be like to love that way? The two of them seemed to take such enormous delight in each other.