Lady Sophia's Lover (Bow Street Runners #2)(41)

“Oh, he is not cold-natured at all. Any child would be quite fortunate to have such a father. And I’m certain that as a husband, Sir Ross would be—” Suddenly realizing that she was chattering like a parrot, Sophia snapped her mouth shut.

“Yes,” Catherine said with a smile. “He was an excellent husband to Eleanor. When he marries again, I am positive that his bride will have few complaints.” Seeing Sophia’s discomfort, she spoke in a brisk manner. “Shall we go to the formal dining room? It is sided by a serving room—quite a convenient area to keep the dishes hot during a long supper.”

During the day, Sophia was so busy that she had little time to think about Ross. However, there was no escape from the longing and desolation that filled the quiet evening hours. Utterly defeated, she admitted to herself that she had fallen in love with the man she had wanted to ruin. She had been vanquished by her own heart. There was nothing to do but abandon her plans for revenge. There would be no seduction… no tainted victory. She would leave her position at Bow Street as soon as possible and try to go on with the rest of her life.

Her new resolve left her feeling drained but peaceful, and she concentrated on the coming weekend party with wan determination.

Twenty-five bedrooms in the main house would be occupied with guests, as well as another dozen in the nearby gatehouse reserved for the use of bachelors. Families from Windsor, Reading, and surrounding towns would attend the masked ball on Saturday night, bringing the number of guests to three hundred and fifty.

Unfortunately, the written notes and plans left by the former housekeeper, Mrs. Bridgewell, left much to be desired. Wryly Sophia reflected that the absent Mrs. Bridgewell had probably been far more concerned with her own romantic affairs than with the upcoming weekend party. Sophia busied herself with taking inventory of the china and flatware, the contents of the butler’s pantry and wine cellar, the larders and linen closets. Consulting with both the cook and Mrs. Cannon, Sophia made notes on menu suggestions, and the proper china for each course. She met with the butler and the master gardener, and laid out plans for a score of housemaids. The village butcher, grocer, and milkman came to call and took Sophia’s written orders for the approaching celebration.

In the midst of this activity, Sophia made the acquaintance of Mr. Robert Cannon, the elderly gentleman whose ninetieth birthday was the cause of all the excitement. Ross’s mother had tried to prepare Sophia for his outspokenness. “When you meet my father-in-law, I should not wish you to be disconcerted by his manner. As he has aged, he has become quite blunt. Do not be put off by anything he says. He is a dear man, if a trifle lacking in discretion.”

Walking back from the icehouse, set apart from the main house, Sophia saw an old man sitting beneath a canvas awning in the rose garden. A small table laden with refreshments had been placed beside him. His chair had been fitted with a leg rest, and Sophia recalled Mrs. Cannon mentioning that her father-in-law was often troubled by gout.

“You, girl,” he said imperiously. “Come here. I have not seen you before.”

Sophia obeyed. “Good morning, Mr. Cannon,” she said, dipping into a respectful curtsy.

Robert Cannon was a handsome old man with a ruff of silver hair and a craggy but distinguished face. His eyes were a steely blue-gray. “I suppose you are the girl my daughter-in-law told me about. The one from Bow Street.”

“Yes, sir. I hope very much that I may help to make your birthday celebration satisfactory—”

“Yes, yes,” he cut in impatiently, waving his hand to indicate that the event was trivial nonsense. “My daughter-in-law will seize on any excuse for a party. Now, you will tell me exactly how things stand between you and my grandson.”

Caught completely off guard, Sophia stared at him openmouthed. “Sir,” she said cautiously, “I am afraid I do not understand your question.”

“Catherine says that he has taken an interest in you—which is a welcome piece of news. I want to see my family line continue, and Ross and his brother are the last of the Cannon males. Has he come up to scratch yet?”

Sophia was too shocked to reply quickly. How in the world had he arrived at such a conclusion? “Mr. Cannon, you are entirely mistaken! I—I have no intention of… of… and Sir Ross would not…” Her voice trailed into silence as her mind searched futilely for words.

Cannon regarded her with a skeptical smile. “Catherine says you are a Sydney,” he commented. “I knew your grandfather Frederick quite well.”

The revelation astonished her further. “You did? You were friends with my grandfather?”

“I didn’t say that we were friends,” Cannon replied crustily. “I only said that I knew him well. The reason we did not get on was that we both fell in love with the same woman. Miss Sophia Jane Lawrence.”

“My grandmother,” Sophia managed to say. She shook her head in wonder at the unexpected connection to her family’s past. “I was named after her.”

“A lovely and accomplished woman. You resemble her, although she was a bit more refined in appearance. She had a regal quality that you lack.”

Sophia smiled suddenly. “It is difficult to be regal when one is a servant, sir.”

His blue eyes remained on her, and his rugged face seemed to soften. “You have her way of smiling. Sophia Jane’s granddaughter, a servant! The Sydneys have fallen on hard times, eh? Your grandmother would have done better to marry me.”