Lady Sophia's Lover (Bow Street Runners #2)(73)

Rather than allow Sophia to wear the lavender silk, Ross had actually sent three runners out to investigate various dressmakers. Somehow they managed to find one who was willing to sell a gown that was part of another order. It would cost a fortune, the dressmaker warned, as she would probably lose one of her most valued clients as a result. Ross paid the hefty sum without a word of protest.

To Sophia’s private relief, the dressmaker presented her with an exquisite pale blue gown with a flattering square-cut bodice and a fashionably low waistband. The full skirts were adorned with glittering beadwork flowers, as were the full, elbow-length sleeves. It was a magnificent creation that fitted her almost perfectly and required very few adjustments. In a display of generosity, the dressmaker had also allowed Ross to purchase two other gowns from her other client’s order, so that Sophia would have day dresses to wear at Silverhill Park.

On their wedding day, Sophia wore her hair pinned in curls atop her head, with silver ribbons woven throughout. A necklace of pearls and diamonds was clasped around her neck, a gift that Ross had sent to her that very morning. She felt like a princess in the shimmering gown, the clicking weight of pearls around her neck, the heeled satin shoes on her feet. The wedding ceremony was a transcendent dream, anchored only by the warm grip of Ross’s hands and the silver intensity of his eyes. At the conclusion of the vows, he bent to brand her with the possessive heat of his lips, a brief caress that contained the promise of much more.

Champagne flowed freely at the wedding banquet, an eight-course feast that was followed by a lavish ball. Sophia was introduced to hundreds of people, and before long she was weary of smiling and her ears were ringing. It was impossible for her to remember more than a few of the multitude of new faces. Some people did stand out in her memory, one of them being Sir Grant Morgan’s wife, Lady Victoria. Having long been curious about what kind of woman would wed the intimidating giant, Sophia was surprised to discover that his wife was quite small of stature. Lady Victoria was also one of the most spectacularly beautiful women Sophia had ever seen, with a voluptuous figure, a profusion of vivid red hair, and a vivacious smile.

“Lady Sophia,” the petite red-haired woman said warmly, “no words can express how thrilled we are that Sir Ross has finally married. Only a remarkable woman could have enticed him away from widowerhood.”

Sophia returned her smile. “The advantage of the match is entirely mine, I assure you.”

Sir Grant interceded, his green eyes twinkling warmly. He seemed far different from when he was at Bow Street, and Sophia observed that he basked in the presence of his wife as a cat would in sunshine. “I beg to disagree, my lady,” he told Sophia. “The match holds many advantages for Sir Ross—which is obvious to all who know him.”

“Indeed,” Lady Victoria added thoughtfully, her gaze finding Ross’s dark form as he stood in a separate receiving line. “I’ve never seen him look so well. In fact, this may be the first time I’ve ever seen him smile.”

“And his face didn’t even crack,” Morgan commented.

“Grant,” his wife scolded beneath her breath. Sophia laughed. Morgan winked at her and drew his wife away.

As the musicians played a piece by Bach, Sophia searched the crowd for a glimpse of Ross. Unfortunately, he was nowhere to be seen now. The sweet melody provided by strings and a transverse flute made her feel curiously wistful. Glancing at the glittering skirts of her gown, Sophia smoothed them with a gloved hand. She imagined the pleasure her parents might have felt if they had known she would marry a man like Sir Ross. And she had no doubt of the grief they would have suffered to learn what had become of their only son. Suddenly feeling very much alone, Sophia wished that her brother could have attended her wedding, although that was obviously impossible. He and she lived in different worlds, and there would never be a way to close the distance between them.

“Lady Sophia.” A voice intruded on her thoughts, and she was confronted with the last face she would ever have expected to see.

“Anthony,” she whispered, her heart dropping in a sickening plunge.

Anthony Lyndhurst was just as she had remembered, handsome and blond, wearing a self-important smile. Sophia could not believe that he had the gall to approach her. Stricken, she did not curtsy in response to his bow.

“My congratulations on your marriage,” he said softly.

It took all of Sophia’s strength to conceal her turmoil. Frantically she wondered why Anthony had come and who had invited him. Was there to be no peace even on her wedding day?

“Walk with me,” he suggested, indicating the long portrait gallery that branched off the drawing room.

“No,” she replied in a low tone.

“I insist.” He proffered his arm, making it impossible for her to refuse without causing a scene. Pasting a brittle smile on her face, Sophia rested her gloved fingers on his coat. She accompanied him to the gallery, which was far less crowded than the drawing room. “You’ve done quite well for yourself, Sophia,” Anthony remarked. “Marrying a Cannon will give you considerable status and fortune. Well done.”

She let go of his arm as soon as they stopped before a grouping of family portraits. “Who invited you?” she asked coldly.

Anthony smiled. “The Lyndhursts and Cannons are distantly related by marriage. I am frequently invited to the Silverhill estate.”