Lady Sophia's Lover (Bow Street Runners #2)(91)

Two minutes later, Nick eased through a door he had found at the side of the building, which had turned out to be a furniture factory. Armed with a turning-blade and a heavy stick of wood, he kept to the shadows as he moved forward.

He froze when he heard the click of a pistol being cocked.

“Stay there,” came a woman’s quiet voice.

His breath hitched in astonishment. “Sophia?”

His sister stood there alone, the gleam of a pistol in her hand, her steady gaze pinned on him. “Don’t run,” she warned, her face tense.

“How the hell did you get here?” he asked incredulously. “It’s dangerous, and—For God’s sake, put that away or you’ll hurt yourself.”

She did not move. “I can’t. If I do, you’ll run.”

“You wouldn’t shoot me.”

Her reply was very soft. “There’s only one way to find out, isn’t there?”

Nick braced himself against a rush of utter despair.

“Have you no care for me, Sophia?” he asked hoarsely.

“Of course I do. That is why I had to stop you. My husband has come to help you.”

“Like hell he has. Don’t be a fool! Let me go, damn you!”

“We are going to wait for Sir Ross,” she said stubbornly.

Out of the corner of his eye Nick saw patrols and a pair of runners coming toward them. It was too late now. His sister had ruined any chance of escape. With fatalistic acceptance, Nick forced himself to relax and drop his makeshift weapons. All right. He would wait for Cannon. And Sophia would learn that her precious husband had lied to her. It would almost be worth it, to expose Cannon for what he was, rather than have Sophia worship him. “Fine,” he said evenly. “We’ll let your husband help me—right to the gallows.”

Chapter 18

Ross was covered in filth by the time he followed Gentry’s trail up to the prison roof. Feeling as if he would never be clean again, he climbed into the open air, which was indescribably sweet after the stench inside. Walking along the edge of the roof, he found a prison wall that connected to a neighboring building. At first there was no sign of Gentry, but then Ross saw the flutter of the dark blanket dangling from the stonework. He growled in frustration. There was no telling how far the man had gotten by now.Leaning over the wall, he tested it with his foot, discovering that it was as unstable as shifting sand. At this point, following Gentry’s path to freedom was no longer an option. Ross would be damned if he would try a feat that even a circus performer would have rejected. Before he could draw back, however, he heard a woman calling from the ground.

“Ross?”

His heart stopped as he saw the tiny figure of his wife from his vantage point four stories above her.

“Sophia,” he thundered, “if that is you, I’m going to beat you senseless.”

“Gentry is waiting with me,” came her voice again. “Don’t try to cross that wall!”

“I wasn’t planning to,” he retorted, struggling to contain his fury as he realized that she had disobeyed his request to stay safe. “Stay there.”

It seemed to take forever to make his way back through the prison. Ross moved in contained panic, running when possible, ignoring the screams and epithets that filled the air as he passed floor after floor. Finally he went out through the entrance and headed around the building in a full-tilt run. He saw a small crowd of onlookers, horse and foot patrols, and Sayer and Gee, all waiting at a respectful distance from his wife and her captive.

“Sir Ross,” Sayer said anxiously, “she got to him before any of us saw him—she told us to stay back here or—”

“Keep everyone away while I deal with this,” Ross snapped.

Obediently the runners steered the crowd back several more yards as Ross strode to his wife. Sophia’s face relaxed when she saw him, and she yielded the pistol to him without a murmur.

“Where did you get this?” he asked mildly, his voice . strained with the effort to keep from bellowing.

“I took it from the footman,” Sophia said apologetically. “It wasn’t his fault, Ross. I’m sorry, but I heard the gaol-keeper tell Mr. Sayer that Gentry had escaped… and then they left, and I was looking through the carriage window, and I happened to see my brother on the rooftop—”

“Later,” Ross interrupted, yearning to apply his hand to her posterior until she howled. Instead he focused on solving the problem at hand.

He glanced at Gentry, who observed them with a sneer. “So this is how you take care of my sister?” Gentry demanded. “Well, she’s in good hands, isn’t she? Traipsing around Newgate at night with a pistol!”

“John,” Sophia protested. “He didn’t—”

Ross silenced her by placing a firm hand on the back of her neck. “You are fortunate that she stopped you,” he informed Gentry coldly.

“Oh, I’m a lucky bastard indeed,” Gentry muttered.

Ross stared at him speculatively, wondering if he was about to make a grave mistake, and knowing that he probably was. He had conceived of a plan that might save his brother-in-law’s neck and even benefit Bow Street, but it was an obvious gamble. There was an explosive mixture of elements in Gentry’s character—the brave thief-taker, the sinister underworld lord, the hero, the devil. Curiously, Gentry seemed caught in the middle, unable to decide what he was going to be. But if placed in the right hands, and molded by a will stronger than his own…