Worth Any Price (Bow Street Runners #3)(53)

As this was at least the tenth suggestion that Lottie had rejected, Sophia sighed and shook her head with a smile. She had commandeered the back room in her dressmaker's shop at Oxford Street specifically for the purpose of ordering a trousseau for Lottie.

"I am sorry," Lottie said sincerely. "I don't mean to be difficult. Clearly I have little experience with this sort of thing." She had never been allowed to choose the styles or colors of her gowns. According to Lord Radnor's dictates, she had always worn chaste designs in dark colors. Unfortunately it was now difficult to envision herself in rich blue, or yellow, or, heaven help her, pink. And the idea of exposing most of her upper chest in public was so discomfiting that she had cringed at the daring pattern-book illustrations that Sophia had showed her.

Nick's older sister, to her credit, was remarkably patient. She focused on Lottie with a steady blue gaze and a persuasive smile that bore an uncommon resemblance to her brother's.

"Lottie, dear, you are not being difficult in the least, but-"

"Fibber," Lottie responded immediately, and they both laughed.

"All right," Sophia said with a grin, "you are being confoundedly difficult, although I am certain that it is unintentional. Therefore I am going to make two requests of you. First, please bear in mind that this is not a life-or-death matter. Choosing a gown is not so very difficult, especially when one is being advised by an astute and very fashionable friend-which would be me."

Lottie smiled. "And the second request?"

"The second is...please trust me." As Sophia held her gaze, it was clear that the magnetism of the Sydney family was not limited to the males. She radiated a mixture of warmth and self-confidence that was impossible to resist. "I will not let you look frowzy or vulgar," she promised. "I have excellent taste, and I have been out in London society for some time, whereas you have been..."

"Buried in Hampshire?" Lottie supplied helpfully.

"Yes, quite. And if you insist on dressing in drab styles that are appropriate for a woman twice your age, you will feel out-of-place among your own crowd. Moreover, it would undoubtedly reflect badly on my brother, as the gossips will whisper that he must be stingy with you, if you go about so plainly garbed-"

"No," Lottie said automatically. "That would be unfair to him, as he has given me leave to buy anything I wish."

"Then let me choose some things for you," Sophia coaxed.

Lottie nodded, reflecting that she was probably far too guarded. She would have to learn how to rely on other people. "I'm in your hands," she said resignedly. "I'll wear whatever you suggest."

Sophia fairly wriggled in satisfaction. "Excellent!" She hefted a pattern book to her lap and began to insert slips of paper between the pages she particularly liked. The light played over her dark golden hair, bringing out shades of wheat and honey in the shining filaments. She was an uncommonly pretty woman, her delicate, decisive features a feminine echo of Nick's strong face. Every now and then she paused to give Lottie an assessing gaze, followed either by a nod or a quick shake of her head.

Lottie sat placidly and drank some tea that the dressmaker's assistant had brought. It was raining heavily outside and the afternoon was gray and cool, but the room was cozy and peaceful. Intricate feminine things were draped or heaped everywhere...spills of lace, lengths of silk and velvet ribbon, cunning artificial flowers, their petals adorned with crystal beads to simulate dewdrops.

Occasionally the dressmaker appeared, conferred with Sophia and made notes, then tactfully disappeared. Some clients, Sophia had told Lottie, required the dressmaker to attend them every minute. Others were far more decided in their preferences and liked to make decisions without interference.

Lost in a peaceful reverie, Lottie almost started when Sophia spoke. "You cannot imagine how thrilled I was when Nick wrote that he was taking a bride." Sophia held two fabrics together and examined them critically, turning them to see how the light affected the weave. "Tell me, what was it about my brother that first attracted you?"

"He is a fine-looking man," Lottie said cautiously. "I could not help but notice his eyes, and dark hair, and...he was also very charming, and..." She paused, her mind returning to those still, sun-warmed moments by the kissing gate near the forest...how world-weary he had looked, how much in need of comfort. "Desolate," she said, almost under her breath. "I wondered how such an extraordinary man could be the loneliest person I had ever met."

"Oh, Lottie," Sophia said softly. "I wonder why you could see that in him, when everyone else considers him to be invulnerable." Leaning forward, she held a length of pale amber silk beneath Lottie's chin, testing it against her complexion, then lowered it. "For most of his life, Nick has had to fight for survival. He was so young when our parents died...and he became so rebellious afterward..." She gave a quick little shake of her head, as if to elude a sudden swarm of painful memories. "And then he ran off to London, and I heard nothing of him, until one day I learned that he had been convicted of some petty crime and sentenced to a prison hulk. A few months after that, I was told that he had died of disease aboard ship. I grieved for years."

"Why did he not come to you? He could have at least sent a letter of some kind, to spare you such unnecessary distress."