by Lisa Kleypas
The carriage traveled along a drive lined with plane trees, their intricately lobed leaves providing dense cover for the underplantings of white snowdrops and spiky green-stemmed cornuses. They stopped before a large house, handsome in its stately simplicity, the entrance guarded by wrought-iron railings and arched lamp standards. The pair of attentive footmen, Daniel and George, helped Lottie alight from the carriage and went to alert the household of their arrival. Noticing that the letterC had been worked into the designs of wrought iron, Lottie paused to trace it with her fingers.
Gentry smiled sardonically. "The Cannons aren't members of the peerage, but one wouldn't know it to look at them."
"Is Sir Ross a very traditional sort of gentleman?"
"In some regards, yes. But politically speaking, he's a progressive. Fights for the rights of women and children, and supports every reformist cause you can name." With a short sigh, Gentry guided her toward the front steps. "You'll like him. All women do."
As they ascended the stone staircase, Gentry surprised Lottie by fitting his arm behind her back. "Take my hand. That step is uneven." He navigated her carefully over the irregular surface, releasing her only when he was certain that her balance was perfect.
They walked into a large entrance hall painted in eggshell shades, with gleaming gold ormolu swags that bordered the lofty ceiling. A half-dozen doorways connected the hall to six principal rooms, while a horseshoe-shaped staircase led to the private apartments above. Lottie scarcely had time to appreciate the graceful design of the house's interior before they were approached by a lovely woman.
The woman's blond hair was much darker than her own, the color of aged honey. It had to be Lady Cannon, whose face was a delicate copy of Gentry's severely handsome features. Her nose was less bold, her chin defined but not quite as decisive as her brother's, her complexion fair instead of tanned. The eyes, however, were the same distinctive blue; rich, dark, and fathomless. Lady Cannon was so youthful in appearance that one would never have guessed that she was older than her brother by four years.
"Nick," she exclaimed with an exuberant laugh, coming forward and lifting up on her toes to receive his kiss. He enclosed her in a brief hug, rested his chin on the crown of her head, then drew back to look at her appraisingly. In that one instant, Lottie saw the remarkable depth of feeling between the two, which had somehow survived years of distance, loss, and deception.
"You're expecting another one," Gentry said after a moment, and his older sister laughed.
"How did you know? Sir Grant must have told you."
"No. But your waist is thicker-or else your corset strings have come loose."
Pulling away, Lady Cannon laughed and swatted at his chest. "You tactless wretch. Yes, my waist is thicker, and will continue to increase until January, at which time you'll have a new niece or nephew to dandle on your knee."
"God help me," he said with feeling.
Lady Cannon turned toward Lottie, her face softening. "Welcome, Charlotte. Nick sent word to me about you yesterday-I have been terribly impatient to meet you." She smelled like tea and roses, a fragrance that was as soothing as it was alluring. Sliding a slender arm around Lottie's shoulders, she turned to address Gentry. "What a lovely sister you've brought me," she remarked. "Mind you treat her well, Nick, or I shall invite her to live here with me. She appears far too well-bred to keep company with the likes of you."
"So far, I have no complaints about Mr. Gentry's treatment of me," Lottie replied with a smile. "Of course, we've only been married for an hour."
Lady Cannon frowned at her brother. "Marrying this poor girl in the registrar's office, of all places! I wish to heaven you had waited and allowed me to arrange something here. Why, you haven't even given her a ring! Honestly, Nick-"
"I didn't want to wait," he interrupted brusquely.
Before Lady Cannon could reply, a small child toddled into the entrance hall, followed by an aproned nanny. The dark-haired little girl, with her blue eyes and dimpled cheeks, could not have been much older than two. "Unca Nick!" she shrieked, rushing at him headlong, her curls flying in a wild, tangled mass.
Gentry caught her and swung her up in the air, grinning at her screams of delight. As he hugged her close, his strong affection for the child was more than obvious, belying his earlier description of her as a "tolerable brat."
Wrapping her plump arms around his neck, the little girl growled playfully, kissing him and pulling at his hair.
"God, what a savage," Gentry said, laughing. He turned her upside down, making the child squeal in excitement.
"Nick," his sister reproved, although she was laughing as well. "Don't, you'll drop her on her head."
"I will not," he said lazily, righting the child and holding her against his chest.
"Candy," the little girl demanded, plunging inside his coat as busily as a ferret. Finding what she had been searching for, she extracted a small paper parcel and crowed with excitement as her uncle opened it for her.
"What are you giving her this time?" Lady Cannon asked with resignation.
"Cinder toffee," he said cheerfully, while his niece popped a large sugary wad into her cheek. His eyes continued to sparkle as he glanced at Lottie. "Would you like some?"
She shook her head, while her heart gave a peculiar extra thump. Just now, when he had looked at her that way, his face gentle, his smile quick and easy, he had been so devastatingly handsome that Lottie had felt a shot of pleasure from the back of her neck down to her toes.
"Amelia," Gentry murmured, bringing her to Lottie. "Say hello to your aunt Charlotte. I married her this very morning."
Suddenly shy, the little girl laid her head on Gentry's shoulder and smiled at Lottie. Lottie smiled back at her, uncertain of what to say. She had little experience with children, as she had lived away from home for so many years.
Lady Cannon came to retrieve her sticky-faced daughter, smoothing back her knotted curls. "My darling," she murmured. "Won't you let Nanny brush your hair?"
The round little chin protruded obstinately. "No," she said around the mouthful of cinder toffee, punctuating her refusal with a drooling grin.
"If you won't let her brush out the tangles, they'll become so impossible that we'll have to cut them out."
Gentry added in a coaxing tone, "Let Nanny brush your hair, sweets. And the next time I come to visit, I'll bring you a pretty blue ribbon."
"And a doll?" Amelia asked hopefully.
"A doll as big as you," he promised.
Squirming down from her mother's arms, the little girl tottered off to the waiting nanny.
"She is a beautiful child," Lottie remarked.
Lady Cannon shook her head with a rueful smile, her eyes filled with maternal pride. "And spoiled beyond reason." Returning to Lottie, she took her hand. "You must call me Sophia," she said warmly. "Let's not bother with formal terms of address."
"Yes, my...yes, Sophia."
"My husband will be joining us quite soon in the parlor-"
"Oh, splendid," came Gentry's surly voice from behind them.
Sophia continued as if she hadn't heard him. "-and I will send for some refreshments. I have just acquired an exquisite chocolate service-do you like chocolate, Charlotte?"
Lottie accompanied her newfound sister-in-law to a sumptuous parlor, one side of which was lined with glass panels that provided a view of a lushly planted indoor conservatory. "I've never had it before," she replied. The beverage had never been served at Maidstone's-and even if it had been, Lord Radnor would never have allowed her to have it. And certainly the servants at Stony Cross Park had rarely, if ever, enjoyed such luxuries. Butter and eggs were seldom allotted to servants, much less something as dear as chocolate.
"Never? Well, then, you shall try some today." Sophia's smile contained an impish quality as she added, "I happen to be a great authority on the subject."
The parlor was decorated in warm shades of burgundy, gold, and green, the heavy mahogany furniture upho
lstered in brocade and velvet. Small tables with leather tops were scattered throughout the room, bearing tempting loads of folio books, novels, and newspapers. At Sophia's direction, Lottie sat on an overstuffed couch, against a row of pillows embroidered in patterns of animals and flowers. Nick sat beside her after Sophia took a nearby chair.
A housemaid approached Sophia, received a few whispered directions, and left the room discreetly.
"My husband will be here momentarily," Sophia informed them serenely. "Now, Charlotte, do tell me how you and Nick met. His note was quite brief, and I am eager for details." Lottie opened and closed her mouth like a landed fish, unable to form a reply. She did not want to lie to Sophia, but the truth-that their marriage was a cold, practical arrangement-was too embarrassing to admit. Gentry answered for her, his large hand covering hers.
"We met in Hampshire during an investigation," he told his sister, playing with Lottie's fingers as he spoke. "Lottie was affianced to Lord Radnor, and she went into hiding to avoid him. He hired me to find her, and when I did..." He shrugged and let Sophia draw her own conclusions.
"But Lord Radnor is at least three decades older than Charlotte," Sophia said, wrinkling her nose. She glanced at Lottie with frank sympathy. "And having met him on one or two occasions, I find him to be quite odd. No wonder you didn't suit." She glanced at Gentry. "And were you immediately taken with Charlotte, when you found her?"
"Who wouldn't be?" Gentry parried with a bland smile. He drew a slow circle on Lottie's palm, stroked the insides of her fingers, brushed his thumb over the delicate veins of her wrist. The subtle exploration made her feel hot and breathless, her entire being focused on the fingertip that feathered along the tender flesh of her upper palm. Most disconcerting of all was the realization that Gentry didn't even know what he was doing. He fiddled lazily with her hand and talked with Sophia, while the chocolate service was brought to the parlor and set out on the table.
"Isn't it charming?" Sophia asked, indicating the flowered porcelain service with a flourish. She picked up the tall, narrow pot and poured a dark, fragrant liquid into one of the small cups, filling the bottom third. "Most people use cocoa powder, but the best results are obtained by mixing the cream with chocolate liquor." Expertly she stirred a generous spoonful of sugar into the steaming liquid. "Not liquor as in wine or spirits, mind you. Chocolate liquor is pressed from the meat of the beans, after they have been roasted and hulled."
"It smells quite lovely," Lottie commented, her breath catching as Gentry's fingertip investigated the plump softness at the base of her thumb.
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?"
