Worth Any Price (Bow Street Runners #3)(41)

"Oh, my lady...er, Sophia," Lottie interrupted uncomfortably, wondering why she didn't seem to realize that their finances were quite meager, compared to the Cannons' affluence. "I'm certain it will not be necessary to open accounts on my behalf."

Gentry spoke to Sophia with a slight smile. "Lottie may have credit wherever she likes. But first take her to your dressmaker. To my knowledge, she has no wedding trousseau."

"I don't need any new gowns," Lottie protested. "Perhaps one nice gown, but that is all." The last thing she desired was for Gentry to spend a great deal on clothes for her. Her memories of her parents' extravagant spending habits, and their resulting descent into poverty, were still very clear in her mind. She had an instinctive fear of spending large amounts of money, and she knew better than anyone how even a comfortable fortune could be squandered in a short time. "Please, I must insist that you don't-"

"It's all right," Gentry interrupted, touching her shoulder. His gaze conveyed the message that now was not the time to debate the issue.

Flushing, Lottie fell silent. His hand lingered at her shoulder, then slid to her elbow, squeezing lightly.

Thankfully, the silence at the table was relieved by the appearance of a footman, who cleared the dishes while another set out plates of dessert and tiny glasses of sweet wine. The dessert plates were arranged with delicate biscuits and pineapple cream served in cunning little glazed pots.

Sir Ross introduced a new topic of conversation concerning some recently proposed amendments to the Poor Law, which both he and Gentry supported. Surprisingly, Sophia offered her own opinions on the subject, and the men listened attentively. Lottie tried to conceal her astonishment, for she had been taught for years that a proper woman should never express her opinions in mixed company. Certainly she should say nothing about politics, an inflammatory subject that only men were qualified to debate. And yet here was a man as distinguished as Sir Ross seeming to find nothing wrong in his wife's speaking her mind. Nor did Gentry seem displeased by his sister's outspokenness.

Perhaps Gentry would allow her the same freedom. With that pleasant thought in her mind, Lottie consumed her pineapple cream, a rich, silky custard with a tangy flavor. Upon reaching the bottom of the pot, she thought longingly of how nice it would be to have another. However, good manners and the fear of appearing gluttonous made it unthinkable to request seconds.

Noticing the wistful glance Lottie gave her empty dish, Gentry laughed softly and slid his own untouched dessert to her plate. "You have even more of a taste for sweets than little Amelia," he murmured in her ear. His warm breath caused the hair on the back of her neck to rise.

"We didn't have desserts at school," she said with a sheepish smile.

He took his napkin and dabbed gently at the corner of her mouth. "I can see that I'll have a devil of a time trying to compensate for all the things you were deprived of. I suppose you'll want sweets with every meal now."

Pausing in the act of lifting her spoon, Lottie stared into the warm blue eyes so close to hers, and suddenly she felt wreathed in heat. Ridiculous, that all he had to do was speak with that caressing note in his voice, and she could be so thoroughly undone.

Sir Ross studied the pair of them with an all-engulfing glance. "Gentry, there is a matter I would take up with you. Undoubtedly there are better ways to reveal my thoughts concerning your future, but I confess that I can't think of them. Your circumstances are unusual." He paused and smiled ruefully. "That is an understatement, of course. The twists and turns of your life have been nothing if not bizarre."

Gentry sat back with languid grace, appearing relaxed, but Lottie sensed the apprehension that coiled inside him. "I haven't asked you to consider my future."

"I have, nonetheless. During the past three years that I have followed your career-"

"Followed?" Gentry interrupted dryly. "More like manipulated, meddled, and interfered."

Inured to semantics after so many years on the bench, Sir Ross shrugged. "I've done as I thought best. Bear in mind that in my dealings with you, I've also had Sophia's interests to consider. She is the only reason I kept you from the gallows. She believed there was potential for goodness in you. And though I didn't see it back then, I am willing to admit now that she was right. You are not the complete villain I thought you to be."

Gentry smiled coolly, aware that he was being damned with faint praise. "In return, let me say that you are not completely the hypocritical cold fish I thought you to be."

"Nick," Sophia scolded, and laid her slender hand over Sir Ross's large one. "My husband has never had a hypocritical thought in his life. And as for his being a cold fish, I can assure you most definitely that he is not. Furthermore-"

"Sophia," Sir Ross interrupted softly, "you don't have to defend me, my love."

"Well, you're not, " she insisted.

His hand turned palm up to grip hers, and for just a moment the pair stared at their interlaced fingers with a shared pleasure that seemed unspeakably intimate. Lottie felt a peculiar ache in her chest. What must it be like to love that way? The two of them seemed to take such enormous delight in each other.

"All right," Gentry said impatiently. "Let's get to the point, Cannon. I have no desire to spend my entire wedding day with you."