Worth Any Price (Bow Street Runners #3)(82)

It began to bother him, though...the old familiar urge to prowl the rookeries, the addictive excitement of pursuit and capture. He did not know how to be a viscount, and he felt vaguely out of place here, at his own childhood home. No magical change had occurred with the arrival of the writ of summons. Blue blood or no, he was a product of the streets.

"I've been thinking about what you need," Lottie told him one morning as they strode away from the house along a paved rose walk that overlooked a long, formal pool adorned with water lilies. Beyond the pool, a broad curving lawn led to a chain of artificial lakes bordered by a forest of cedar and elm. Nick had taken her on a shortcut he had used often as a boy, circumventing the lawn by jumping over a short stone wall and heading straight into the forest.

Smiling at Lottie's statement, Nick lifted his arms to help her descend from the wall. Although she could easily have jumped by herself, she accepted his help, resting her hands on his shoulders as he took hold of her waist.

"What is it that I need?" he asked, letting her slide down his front until her feet touched the ground.

"A cause."

"A what?"

"Something worthwhile for you to pursue. Something not related to estate management."

Nick let his gaze wander blatantly over Lottie's small, trim form, clad in a peach-colored walking-dress trimmed with chocolate brown. "I already have that," he said and settled his mouth over hers. He felt her smile before she accommodated the warm pressure of his mouth, opening for the gentle exploration of his tongue.

"I mean something that would keep you busy in your spare time," she said breathlessly when he ended the kiss.

He slid his hand along the side of her uncorseted waist. "So do I."

Lottie pulled away from him with a laugh, her flat ankle boots tromping on the carpet of leaves as she strode into the forest. Thin shafts of sunlight filtered through the ancient canopy of foliage-laden branches overhead, catching the pale gleam of her pinned-up hair and making it flash like silver. "Sir Ross has his interest in judicial reform," she pointed out, "as well as his concerns for the rights of women and children. If you were to take up some pursuit that would benefit the public in some manner, you could put your seat in the Lords to some good use-"

"Wait," he said warily, following her through the maze of trees. "If you're going to start comparing me to my saintly brother-in-law-"

"I merely used him as an example, not as a basis for comparison." Stopping beside a huge elm, she ran her hand along the deep furrows of mottled gray bark. "The point is, you have spent the past few years of your life serving the public and helping people, and for you to stop so suddenly-"

"I haven't been helping people," Nick interrupted, affronted. "I've been rubbing elbows with felons and whores, and chasing fugitives from Tyburn to East Wapping."

Lottie gave him a wry stare, her dark brown eyes filled with an inexplicable tenderness. "And in doing so, you've made London safer, and brought justice to those who deserved it. For heaven's sake, why are you offended at the implication that you may have actually done something good now and then?"

"I don't want to be portrayed as something I'm not," Nick said curtly.

"I see you exactly for what you are," she informed him, "and I would be the last to call you a saint."

"Good."

"On the other hand...your work as a runnerdid serve to benefit other people, whether you choose to admit it or not. Therefore, you will now need to find some meaningful activity to occupy your time." Casually Lottie walked on, stepping over a fallen branch. "You want me to turn into a reformist?" he asked in disgust, following her.

Deliberately ignoring his sudden bad humor, Lottie continued through the trees until the forest opened to reveal a small, glittering lake. "There must besome issue that concerns you. Something you want to fight for. What about improving the horrid condition of the Thames.... or the workhouses in which the elderly, children, and the insane are all mixed together with no one to tend them..."

"Next you'll want me to make speeches in Parliament and give charity balls." He scowled at the thought.

Lottie continued listing problems that needed to be addressed. "Insufficient public education, the cruelty of blood sports, the plight of orphans, or discharged prisoners-"

"You've made your point," Nick interrupted, coming to stand beside her.

"What about prison reform? There's a subject that you can address with some conviction."

Nick froze, unable to believe that Lottie had dared to say it to him. He kept that part of his past closed in some distant part of his mind. For her to mention it in such a relaxed manner was like an attack. A betrayal. But as he stared into her upturned face and struggled to reply, he saw the absolute gentleness in her expression.Be comfortable with me , the soft light in her eyes entreated.Let me share some of your burden .

He tore his gaze away, the flare of defensive rage melting into alarm. Holy hell, he wanted to believe in her. To give her the last part of his soul that the world had not yet stained and shredded and ruined. But how could he let himself be that vulnerable?

"I'll think about it," he heard himself say raspily.

Lottie smiled, reaching out to stroke his chest. "I'm afraid that if you don't apply yourself to a worthy cause, you'll go mad from inactivity. You're not a man to spend all of your time pursuing idle amusements. And now that you are no longer working at Bow Street..." She paused, seeming troubled by something she saw in his eyes. "You miss it, don't you?"