Worth Any Price (Bow Street Runners #3)(25)

"The sixteen-year-old? Quiet. Pretty. In good health, it seems."

"Sixteen," Lottie murmured, unsettled by the realization that her siblings had grown older, just as she had. They had all changed during the time they had been apart. Her head ached suddenly, and she rubbed her forehead. "When my parents spoke of me, did they seem to..."

"What?"

"Do they hate me?" she asked distractedly. "I've so often wondered..."

"No, they don't hate you." His voice became oddly gentle. "They're concerned for their own hides, of course, and they seem to entertain a sincere belief that you would benefit from a marriage to Radnor."

"They've never understood what he is really like."

"They don't want to. They've profited far more by deceiving themselves."

Lottie was tempted to rebuke him even though she had thought the same thing a thousand times before. "They needed Lord Radnor's money," she said dully. "They have expensive tastes."

"Is that how your father lost the family fortune? By living outside his means?"

"I don't believe there was much of a fortune to begin with. But my parents certainly spent whatever was available. I remember that when I was a child, we had the best of everything. And then when the money was gone, we nearly starved. Until Lord Radnor intervened." She continued to rub her forehead, letting her fingers drift to her aching temples. "The argument could easily be made that I've benefitted from his interest. Because of Radnor, I was sent to the most exclusive girls' school in London, and he paid for my food, my clothes, and even hired a maid to attend me. I thought he wanted to make a lady of me. At first I was even grateful that he took such care to prepare me for being his wife."

"But it became more complicated than that," Gentry murmured.

She nodded. "I was treated like a pet on a leash. Radnor decided what I could read, what I was allowed to eat...he instructed the teachers that my baths were to be ice cold, as he believed it was more conducive to good health than hot water. My diet was limited to broth and fruit wheneverhe decided that I needed slimming. I had to write a letter to him every day, to describe my progress on the subjects he wished me to study. There were rules for everything...I was never to speak unless my thoughts were well formed and gracefully expressed. I was never to offer an opinion about anything. If I fidgeted, my hands were tied to the seat of my chair. If I became sun-browned, I was kept indoors." She let out a strained sigh. "Lord Radnor wanted to make me into another person entirely. I could not fathom what it would be like to live with him as his wife, or what would happen when he finally realized that I could never attain the standards of perfection he set." Lost in the dark memories, Lottie twisted her fingers together and spoke without being fully aware of what she revealed. "How I dreaded coming home on holidays. He was always there, waiting for me. He barely allowed me time to see my brothers and sisters before I had to go with him and..."

She stopped suddenly, realizing that she had been about to confide the secret that had caused her parents to erupt in fury when she had tried to tell them. It had seethed at the bottom of her soul for years. They had somehow made it clear without words that the family's survival, and hers, depended entirely on her silence. Choking back the forbidden words, Lottie closed her eyes.

"You had to go with him and..." Gentry prompted.

She shook her head. "It doesn't matter now."

"Tell me." His voice was soft. "I assure you, nothing you say could shock me."

Lottie regarded him cautiously, realizing it was true. With all that Gentry had seen and heard and done, nothing would disgust him.

"Go on," he murmured.

And Lottie found herself telling him what no one had ever wanted to hear.

"Every time I came home, I had to go into a private room with Radnor, and account to him for my behavior at school, and answer his questions about my studies and my friends, and..." She stared into Gentry's inscrutable face, finding that his lack of reaction made it easy for her to continue. "He made me sit on his lap while we talked. He touched me, on my chest and beneath my skirts. It was repulsive, allowing him to...but I couldn't stop him, and my parents..." She shrugged helplessly. "They wouldn't listen when I tried to tell them. It went on for years. My mother slapped me once, and told me that I belonged to Lord Radnor, and that he was going to marry me anyway. She said I must let him do as he liked. The family's safety depended on his pleasure and goodwill." Shame infused her voice as she added, "And then I ran from him anyway, and by doing so I threw them all to the wolves."

Gentry spoke carefully, as if she were still an innocent child rather than a woman of twenty. "Did it go farther than touching, Lottie?"

She stared at him without comprehension.

His dark head tilted slightly, his voice remaining soft as he persisted. "Did he bring you or himself to cl**ax, while you sat on his lap?"

Her face turned hot as she understood what he was referring to...the mysterious ecstatic culmination that some of the girls had described with naughty laughs. A physical pleasure that she certainly could never have felt with Radnor. "I don't think so."

"Believe me, you would know if either of you had," he said sardonically.

Lottie thought of the way that Gentry had touched her in the firelight, the coiling sensation she had felt in her br**sts and loins and stomach, the sweet aching frustration that had tormented her so. Had that been cl**ax, or was there more she had yet to experience? She was sorely tempted to ask her companion, but she kept silent out of fear that he might mock her for her ignorance.