Page 56 of Lady Sophia's Lover
Returning her attention to the scene outside the window, Sophia surmised that the crowd was waiting for the infamous Gentry to exit the building. “Mr. Gentry may be a thief-taker,” she said pertly, “but he is also a criminal. I would not insult Sir Grant by making such a comparison, as he is the most honorable of men.”
“Yes, miss.” Lannigan knotted a string around the parcel with a flourish. “But Gentry’s a rum cove, jus’ the same.”
Sophia was puzzled by the public’s intense admiration of the man. How could his magnetism and reputed charm blind the masses to his corruption?
Coming over to the window, Lannigan handed her the wrapped fish. “Miss Sydney, did ye ’ave a look at Gentry when ’e was taken to Bow Street?”
“No, actually.” Sophia frowned pensively, remembering Ross’s fury when she had burst into the strong room, where she’d seen only the back of the notorious crime lord. “Although I was there at the time, I never saw him.”
“’Is carriage is stopped jus’ around the corner,” Lannigan informed her slyly. “If ye wait there, ye can set yer blinkers on ’im.”
Sophia forced herself to laugh lightly. “Oh, I have better things to do than wait for a glimpse of a scoundrel like Nick Gentry.”
But after she left the shop, she hesitated and glanced down the alley, her gaze falling on a black-lacquered carriage heavily ornamented in gold. The coach-and-six was exactly the sort of extravagant but tasteless equipage that would be purchased with ill-gotten gains. A driver waited on the box, his face bored and weary beneath a high-crowned hat, while an armed footman stood beside the door.
Sophia was not certain why her curiosity about Gentry was so strong. Perhaps it was the fact that Ross hated the man so profoundly. Gentry was the opposite of everything Ross believed in. Although the man professed to be a professional thief-taker, and therefore on the side of the law, he was in actuality a black-hearted criminal. Blackmail, informing, organizing crime, framing, and outright thievery—these were all evils that had been committed by Nick Gentry. He was an outrage to morality. Yet most people considered him heroic, and those who did not were afraid to cross him.
As Sophia reflected on all the transgressions ascribed to Gentry, she saw that the crowd across the street had parted to allow a single tall figure to pass through. He had an arrogant way of walking, a jaunty confidence that showed in the set of his shoulders and in his loose, easy stride. As he strolled past onlookers, hands reached out to pat him on the shoulders and back, and hearty cheers sounded in his wake.
“’Ere’s a right cove, our Gentry!”
“Hurrah for Black Dog!”
Black Dog? Sophia wrinkled her nose in distaste at the nickname. Flattening herself against the side of the building, she watched as the people followed Gentry on his way to the carriage. As the thief-taker approached, Sophia was surprised to see that he was young and handsome, with a long, straight nose and elegant, clean-edged features and vivid blue eyes. Similar to the Bow Street runners, he possessed a distinctive physical confidence. It was clear that he was filled with what was politely referred to as “animal spirits.” His hair was a rich dark brown, and his skin was very tan, making his teeth look startlingly white as he grinned. For all his apparent good humor, however, there was a strange coldness about him…an obvious potential for savagery that made Sophia shiver despite the warmth of the day.
The armed footman opened the carriage door, and Gentry moved toward it with a ready stride. But for some reason he paused before stepping inside, his hand braced lightly on the black lacquer. He went very still, as if he were listening to a sound that no one else could hear. His shoulders stiffened, and he turned slowly, his gaze falling right on Sophia. Startled, she stared back at him, trapped by the intensity of his expression.
The crowd, the street, the sky—all seemed to disappear, leaving only the two of them. Abruptly Sophia recognized him as the mysterious stranger at Silverhill Park, the one who had given her the diamond necklace. But how could that be? What could a man like Nick Gentry want with her? The wrapped fish dropped from her nerveless hands, and she breathed jerkily.
Frozen, she stared as he walked toward her, his face pale beneath its tan. He stopped before her, began to reach for her, then hesitated, while his gaze remained locked with hers. Then he appeared to make a decision. He caught her wrist in his large hand, his fingers wrapping over her hammering pulse.
“Come with me,” he said, his soft voice undercutting the noise of the crowd. “I won’t hurt you.”
Stunned that he had dared to touch her, Sophia resisted the gentle urging, the blood draining from her face. She tugged at her imprisoned wrist. “Let go,” she said tightly. “If anything happens to me, Sir Ross will kill you.”
He drew closer, his lips at her ear. “Would you like to know what happened to John Sydney?”
She jerked backward, nearly knocking her head against the wall. “What do you know about my brother?”
A corner of his mouth lifted in the hint of a mocking smile. “Come.”
The sight of Nick Gentry plucking a pretty woman from the onlookers entertained them tremendously. Laughing and clapping, they surged around the carriage as Gentry pulled Sophia inside. Frightened yet intensely curious, she half sat, half fell against the leather-upholstered cushions. The door was closed, and the vehicle lurched as the team of six moved forward. The carriage rounded the street corner and gained momentum, accelerating to a reckless hurdle through the streets.
“Where are we going?” Sophia asked tensely. “And why did you mention my brother’s name? And why did you give me the gown and the necklace, and—”
Gentry held up his hands in a gesture of mock self-defense. “Wait. I’ll explain. Just…wait.”
He reached for a polished wood compartment beside the door and withdrew a glass and a small decanter of amber liquid. Either the jouncing of the carriage made it difficult for him to pour, or his hands were strangely unsteady, for he seemed unable to accomplish the task. Giving up with a curse, he lifted the spirits to his mouth and drank straight from the decanter.
Carefully he replaced the articles in the compartment and settled his large hands on his knees. “We’re going to my home on West Street. Near Fleet Ditch.”
Sophia could not prevent a quiver of distaste. The location was one of the most foul and dangerous in London, home to robbers and fugitives, conveniently located near the prisons of Newgate, Ludgate, and the Fleet. The huge sewer named Fleet Ditch spread its stench extravagantly through the twisted lanes and alleys that surrounded it.
“You’ll be safe with me,” Gentry said shortly. “All I want is to talk with you in privacy.”
“Why me?” she demanded. “What have I done to attract your attention? We’ve never met, and I am certain that we have no acquaintances in common.”
“You’ll understand after I explain a few things.”
