Lady Sophia's Lover (Bow Street Runners #2)(68)

Knowing at once that something was untoward, Ross stood to meet the assistant magistrate as he approached. “Morgan,” he said curtly, “why are you here?”

“The necklace,” came the former runner’s succinct reply, in a tone so low that no one else could hear. “I found the jeweler who made it—Daniel Highmore, of Bond Street. I made him tell me who purchased it.”

Ross experienced a savage thrill of anticipation at the prospect of finally identifying Sophia’s stalker. “Who?”

“Nick Gentry.”

Ross stared at Morgan blankly. His initial astonishment was quickly replaced by an elemental, purely masculine urge to kill. “Gentry must have seen Sophia while he was at Bow Street. When she came down to the strong room. By God, I’m going to tear him limb from limb!” Becoming conscious of the host of interested gazes fastened on them, all clearly speculating as to what they were discussing, Ross strove to keep his voice quiet. “Morgan, take over the negotiations. I’m going to pay a visit to Gentry.”

“Wait,” Morgan protested. “I’ve never arbitrated a professional dispute before.”

“Well, now you’re going to learn. Good luck.” With that, Ross strode through the tavern and headed outside to where his horse was tethered.

Sophia did not know what to make of her brother. As they talked, she tried to understand the man John had become, but he was a complex figure, seeming to have little regard for his own life or anyone else’s. “The greater the rogue, the greater the luck” was a saying she had heard at Bow Street—it explained the jaunty defiance of many of the criminals brought before the bench. And it certainly described Nick Gentry. He was definitely a rogue, alternately charming and callous, an ambitious man who had inherited blue blood but had received no land, education, wealth, or social connections along with it. Instead he sought power through corrupt avenues. It seemed that his criminal success had made him as savage as he was smart, as cruel as he was confident.

Hesitantly she told him about her years in Shropshire, her desire to avenge his “death,” and her plan to come to London and destroy Sir Ross Cannon.

“How in hell were you planning to do that?” Gentry asked mildly, his gaze sharp as it rested on her face.

Sophia colored, and answered with a half-truth. “I was going to try to uncover damaging information in the criminal records room.” Although she would have liked to be completely honest, her instincts warned that it would be foolish to tell him about her affair with Sir Ross. They were, after all, bitter enemies.

“My clever girl,” Gentry murmured. “You have access to the Bow Street criminal records?”

“Yes, but I—”

“Excellent.” He sat back in his chair, idly studying the tips of his boots. “There are some things you can find out for me. I can make use of your presence at Bow Street.”

The suggestion that he wished to use her for his own purposes, probably criminal ones, caused Sophia to shake her head decisively. “John, I will not spy for you.”

“Just a few little things,” he murmured with a cajoling smile. “You want to help me, don’t you? And I’ll help you. We’ll both have our revenge against Cannon.”

She let out an incredulous laugh. “But I only wanted revenge because I thought he had sent you to your death on the prison hulk.”

Gentry scowled. “Well, Cannon did send me there, and it was no bloody thanks to him that I survived!”

“Anyone else would have dispatched you to the gallows without a second thought,” Sophia pointed out. “After what you did—robbing that carriage, causing that poor old man’s death…”

“It wasn’t me that gave him a knock on the head,” Gentry said defensively. “I was only out to rob the old cheeser, not kill him.”

“No matter what your intentions, the result was the same. You were an accomplice to murder.” Staring into his stony face, Sophia softened her tone as she continued. “But the past cannot be changed. All we can do is deal with the future. You can’t really mean to go on this way, John.”

“Why not?”

“Because you are not invulnerable. You will make a mistake sooner or later, one that will have you swinging on the gallows. And I could not bear to lose you a second time. Besides, this is not the life for you. You were not supposed to—”

“It is exactly the life for me,” he cut in tersely. “Sophia, whatever memories you have of me don’t apply now. Do you understand?”

“No,” she said stubbornly. “I don’t understand how you can live like this. You are better, more worthy, than this.”

Her words earned a peculiar mirthless grin. “That shows what you know.” He stood and went over to the fireplace, bracing a large hand on the white marble mantel. The firelight played over his hard young features, striping them with black and gold. After a moment’s contemplation, he turned toward her. His expression was intent, but his tone was deceptively lazy. “Let’s talk about Bow Street some more. You say you can get into the criminal records room. It so happens that I need some information—”

“I’ve already told you no. I won’t betray Sir Ross’s trust in me.”

“You have for the last two months,” he said irritably. “What’s stopping you now?”