Lady Sophia's Lover (Bow Street Runners #2)(77)

“Are we visiting someone?” Sophia asked, staring admiringly at the house.

“Not precisely.” Ross placed a hand at the small of her back and guided her up to the main entrance. “This house is owned by Lord Cobham, a contemporary of my grandfather’s. He resides at his county seat and has decided to rent this place, as it remains unused most of the time.”

“Why are we here?” She entered the cool marble hall, which was devoid of furniture or artwork. Rich blue lapis columns and doorcases contrasted crisply with the gleaming white walls.

Ross joined her, gazing upward at the gilded fretwork on the twenty-foot-high ceiling. “I thought that if this place pleases you, we might live here until our own house is built.” He looked vaguely apologetic as he added, “It is unfurnished because Cobham took most of the family heirlooms with him to the country. If we take it, you will have to decorate it.”

Sophia could not reply, only stared at her surroundings in amazement.

When it became clear that no immediate comment was forthcoming, Ross spoke matter-of-factly. “If you don’t like the house, you have only to say so. There are other residences to consider.”

“No, no,” Sophia said breathlessly. “Of course I like it. How could anyone not approve? It’s just that you have caught me off guard. I… I thought we were going to live at Bow Street.”

He looked both appalled and amused by the idea. “God forbid. No wife of mine will take up residence at the public office. A place like this is more fitting, not to mention comfortable.”

“It’s very grand,” Sophia commented doubtfully, thinking privately that the word “comfortable” would be more accurately applied to a cozy cottage or a small town house. “Ross,” she said carefully, “if you spend all your time working at Bow Street, I do not think I would like to be alone in such a large place. Perhaps we could find some nice terrace on King Street—”

“You’re not going to be alone.” His eyes lit with amusement. “I’ve given enough of my life to Bow Street. I’m going to refashion the public office so that it can function without me. Then I’ll recommend Morgan as the next Chief Magistrate, and step down for good.”

“But what would you do?” Sophia asked in dawning worry, knowing that he was too active to settle into a life of gentlemanly indolence.

“I have more than a few reformist causes to occupy my time, and I need to take a stronger hand in running the Silverhill estate. I also plan to buy a part interest in a new railway company in Stockton, though God knows my mother will have apoplexy at such mercantile pursuits.” He reached out and pulled her so close that her skirts swished around his legs and feet. His dark head lowered until their noses were almost touching. “But most of all,” he murmured, “I want to be with you. I’ve waited long enough for this, and, by God, I’m going to enjoy it.”

Sophia stood on her toes, brushing her lips against his. Before Ross could intensify the kiss, she drew back and regarded him with a saucy smile. “Show me the rest of the house,” she said.

The house was unexpectedly charming, many of the rooms shaped with rounded ends and fitted with niches and built-in bookshelves. The delicate pastel walls were framed with white molding, some panels filled with the fanciful shapes of winged gryphons and other mythical beasts. Fireplaces were made of carved marble, and the floors were covered with thick-piled French carpets. Here and there an odd piece of furniture had been left: a bow-fronted chest in one room, a japanned screen in another. In a back room on the second floor, Sophia discovered an intriguing oddity, something that resembled a chair but had been constructed in a queer fashion.

“What is this?” she asked, walking around the piece, and Ross laughed.

“A chamber horse. It has been years since I’ve seen one of these. Not since boyhood, actually.”

“What is it used for?”

“Exercise. My grandfather had one. He claimed that it strengthened his legs and slimmed his waist whenever he had indulged a bit too often.”

She regarded him skeptically. “How is it possible to exercise on a chair?”

“You bounce on it.” He grinned in reminiscence. “On rainy days, when there was nothing else to do, Matthew and I jumped on Grandfather’s chamber horse for hours at a time.” Using his hand, he pushed on the seat, which had been upholstered with at least two and a half feet of cushioning. “This is filled with springs and dividing boards. Air is expelled through the holes on the sides.”

Ross sat on the chamber horse experimentally, holding the mahogany arms and resting his feet on the stepping board in front. He gave the chair a slight bounce, and the seat moved up and down with a creaking sound.

“You look ridiculous,” Sophia said, giggling at the sight of the dignified magistrate on the odd contraption. “Very well, I will agree to live in this house if you promise to dispose of that thing.”

His smiling gray eyes stared into hers, and he regarded her thoughtfully. When he spoke, his tone had lowered just a notch. “Don’t be so hasty. You might want to use it sometime.”

“I don’t think so,” she said, her eyes sparkling. “If I want exercise, I will take a walk.”

“Do you know how to ride?”

“No, I’m afraid I can’t. Neither real horses nor chamber horses.”