Worth Any Price (Bow Street Runners #3)(67)

He picked up his knife and regarded it moodily, scraping the tip of the blade against the calloused pad of his thumb. "I'm beginning to feel oddly resigned to the situation. Now the news is leaking from the offices of the Crown and the Lord Chancellor. It's all been set in motion, and there is nothing anyone could do to stop it now. Sir Ross will introduce us at the ball as Lord and Lady Sydney...and from then on, Nick Gentry will be dead."

Lottie stared at him intently, struck by his odd phrasing. "You mean the name will no longer be used," she said. "You, as Lord Sydney, will be very much alive. Shall I begin to call you John in private?"

A scowl pulled at his features, and he set the knife down. "No. I'll be Sydney to the rest of the world, but in my own home I'll answer to the name that I choose."

"Very well...Nick." Lottie stirred a generous lump of sugar into her tea and sipped the hot, sweet liquid. "The name has served you well for many years, hasn't it? I daresay you've given it far more renown than the original Gentry ever would have." Her idle remark earned a peculiar glance from him, somehow rebuking and beseeching at the same time. A sudden realization flashed through her mind-the real Nick Gentry, the boy who had died of cholera aboard the prison hulk, was at the heart of the secret that tormented her husband. Lottie stared absently into her tea, striving to keep her tone casual as she asked, "What was he like? You haven't yet told me."

"He was an orphan, whose mother was hanged for thievery. He lived in the streets for most of his life, starting as a pudding shammer and eventually acquiring his own gang of ten."

"Pudding shammer," Lottie repeated, puzzled.

"Stealing food to survive. That's the lowest of the low, except for beggars. But Gentry learned fast, and he became a proficient thief. Finally he was caught robbing a house, and he was sentenced to the prison hulk."

"And then you became friends," Lottie prompted.

Nick's expression became distant as long-buried memories recalled him to the past. "He was strong, shrewd...with sharp instincts from living so long in the streets. He told me things I needed to know to stay alive in the hulk...protected me sometimes..."

"Protected you from what?" Lottie whispered. "The guards?"

Nick jerked out of his trance, blinking the remoteness from his eyes. He glanced down at his hand, which was gripping the knife handle too tightly. Carefully he set the gleaming object on the table and pushed his chair back.

"I'm going out for a while," he said, his voice stripped of all nuance. "I expect I will see you at dinner this evening."

Lottie responded in the same carefully neutral tone. "Very well. Have a pleasant day."

During the week that ensued, the days and nights were dizzying in their contrast. Lottie's daytime hours were occupied with errands and small practical matters. She was never quite certain when she would see Nick, for he came and went at will. At supper they would discuss meetings that he'd had with investment partners and bankers, or his occasional visits to Bow Street, as Sir Grant occasionally consulted with him on matters pertaining to past cases. In the daytime, Lottie's interactions with Nick were cordial, the conversation pleasant and yet slightly impersonal.

The nights, however, were a far different story. Nick made love to her with an almost desperate intensity. He did things that shocked her, leaving no part of her body untouched in his passion. At times their lovemaking was urgent and primitive, while other times it was languid and slow, with both of them reluctant to let it end. There were also unexpected moments of humor, as Nick played with her, teased her, and coaxed her to try positions so undignified that she dissolved into mortified giggles.

No matter what enjoyment the nights held, however, each day brought them closer to the time when Sir Ross would make the announcement that would change the course of their lives. Lottie knew that her husband dreaded the ball, and that the months afterward would be quite difficult as he tried to adjust to his new circumstances. She was certain, however, that she could be of some help to him. When she had entered into the marriage, she had never suspected that he might need her in any way, nor had she thought that she would take any satisfaction in helping him. And yet, she felt very much like a helpmate...a partner...and sometimes, for just a moment or two, a wife.

As the night of the ball finally arrived, Lottie was thankful that she'd accepted Sophia's advice at the dressmaker's. Sophia had helped her choose styles that were youthful but ladylike, in soft colors that flattered her immensely. The gown Lottie had decided to wear tonight was a pale blue satin overlaid with white tulle, with a daring scooped neckline that bared the tops of her shoulders. Lottie stood in the center of the bedroom while Mrs. Trench and Harriet pulled the billowing gown over her head and helped guide her arms through the puffed sleeves of stiffened satin. It was a gown as beautiful-no, more beautiful-than any she had seen during the parties in Hampshire. Thinking of the ball she was about to attend, and Nick's reaction when he saw her, Lottie was nearly giddy with excitement.

Her light-headedness was no doubt encouraged by the fact that her corset was laced with unusual tightness, to enable Mrs. Trench to fasten the close-fitting gown. Wincing in the confinement of stays and laces, Lottie stared into the looking glass as the two women adjusted the ballgown. The transparent white tulle overslip was embroidered with sprays of white silk roses. White satin shoes, long kid gloves, and an embroidered gauze scarf were the final touches, making Lottie feel like a princess. The only flaw was her stick-straight hair, which refused to hold a curl no matter how hot the tongs were. After several fruitless attempts to create a pinned-up mass of ringlets, Lottie opted for a simple braided coil atop her head, encircled with fluffy white roses. When Harriet and Mrs. Trench stood back to view the final results of their labors, Lottie laughed and did a quick turn, making the blue skirts whirl beneath the floating white tulle.