Lady Sophia's Lover (Bow Street Runners #2)(2)

Ross had heard every possible tale of disaster, evil, and human misery during his ten years as Chief Magistrate at Bow Street. Although he was not callous by any means, he had learned to put a certain emotional distance between himself and those who came to plea before him. But the sight of Sophia’s anxiety filled him with the insane urge to comfort her, to pick her up and soothe her. Holy hell, he thought in grim surprise, struggling to master the unwanted surge of protectiveness.

“Go on, Miss Sydney,” he said curtly.

She nodded and took a deep breath. “I did something very wrong. I-I took a lover. I never had before… but he was a guest at a great estate near the village… I met him while walking. I had never been courted by anyone like him. I fell in love with him, and we—” She stopped and averted her gaze, apparently unable to look at Ross any longer. “He promised to marry me, and I was foolish enough to believe him. When he tired of me, he abandoned me without a second thought. Of course, I realize now that it was ridiculous to think that a man of his station might have taken me to wife.”

“He was an aristocrat?” Cannon asked.

She studied the shapes of her knees through the drape of her skirts. “Not precisely. He was—is—the youngest son of a noble family.”

“His name?”

“I would prefer not to reveal it, sir. It is all in the past now. Suffice it to say that my cousin learned of the affair from the lady of the manor, who also revealed that my lover was married. Needless to say, there was a scandal, and Cousin Ernestine told me to leave.” Sophia smoothed her gown in a nervous gesture, her palms running over the fabric that covered her lap. “I know that this is evidence of an immoral character. But I promise you that I am not easily given to… to dalliances. If you could manage to overlook my past—”

“Miss Sydney.” Cannon waited until she could bring herself to look at him once more. “I would be a hypocrite if I condemned you for the affair. We have all made mistakes.”

“Not you, surely.”

That elicited a wry smile from him. “Especially me.”

Her blue eyes were alert. “What kind of mistakes?”

The question amused him. He liked her fearlessness, as well as the layer of vulnerability beneath. “None that you need know about, Miss Sydney.”

She smiled slowly. “Then I remain skeptical as to your having made any.”

It was the kind of smile a woman might wear in the sultry aftermath of lovemaking. Very few women possessed such effortless sensuality, a natural warmth that made a man feel like a prize stallion on a stud farm. Dumbfounded, Ross concentrated on the surface of his desk. Unfortunately, that did nothing to dispel the lurid images that had flooded his brain. He wanted to reach across the desk and pull her on top of the slick mahogany and strip her naked. He wanted to kiss her br**sts, stomach, thighs… to part the curls between her legs and bury his face in the tender salt-scented folds, and lick and suckle until she screamed in ecstasy. When he had made her ready for him again, he would unfasten his trousers and drive himself deep inside her, to thrust until his raging desire was satisfied. And then…

Infuriated by his lack of self-control, Ross drummed his fingers on the desk. He struggled to remember the thread of conversation. “Before we discuss my past,” he said, “we had better attend to yours. Tell me, did a child result from this liaison?”

“No, sir.”

“That is fortunate,” he said.

“Yes, sir.”

“Is Shropshire your birthplace?”

“No, sir. I was born, along with my younger brother, in a little town on the Severn. We…” Sophia paused, a shadow passing over her expression, and Ross sensed that the past held many painful memories for her. “We were orphaned when our parents drowned in a boating accident. I was not yet thirteen. My father was a viscount, but we had little land, and no funds to support it. There were no relatives able or willing to care for two virtually impoverished children. A few people in the village took turns looking after my brother and me, but I’m afraid…” She hesitated and spoke more cautiously. “My brother, John, and I were quite wild. We ran about the village committing acts of mischief until we were caught in a bit of thievery at the local bakeshop. It was then that I went to live with Cousin Ernestine.”

“What became of your brother?”

She responded with a distant stare, her manner turning wooden. “He is dead now. The title is extinct, and the family lands are being held in abeyance, as there is no eligible male to inherit.”

Being no stranger to grief, Ross was sensitive to it in others. He understood at once that whatever had happened to her brother, it had left a deep scar on her soul. “I’m sorry,” he said softly.

She was rigid, seeming not to hear him.

After a long moment, Ross spoke gruffly. “If your father was a viscount, then you should be addressed as ‘Lady Sophia.’”

His remark earned a faint, bitter smile. “I suppose so. However, it would be rather pretentious for me to insist on a courtesy title, wouldn’t it? My days as ‘Lady Sophia’ are over. All I desire is to find suitable employment, and perhaps to make a new beginning.”

Ross considered her closely. “Miss Sydney, I could not in good conscience hire a woman as my assistant. Among other things, you would be required to list the occupants of the prisoners’ van bearing criminals to and from Newgate, compile reports of the Bow Street runners, and take depositions from the assortment of foul characters who parade daily through this building. Such tasks would be offensive to a woman’s sensibilities.”