Page 33 of Worth Any Price
“A doll as big as you,” he promised.
Squirming down from her mother’s arms, the little girl tottered off to the waiting nanny.
“She is a beautiful child,” Lottie remarked.
Lady Cannon shook her head with a rueful smile, her eyes filled with maternal pride. “And spoiled beyond reason.” Returning to Lottie, she took her hand. “You must call me Sophia,” she said warmly. “Let’s not bother with formal terms of address.”
“Yes, my . . . yes, Sophia.”
“My husband will be joining us quite soon in the parlor—”
“Oh, splendid,” came Gentry’s surly voice from behind them.
Sophia continued as if she hadn’t heard him. “—and I will send for some refreshments. I have just acquired an exquisite chocolate service—do you like chocolate, Charlotte?”
Lottie accompanied her newfound sister-in-law to a sumptuous parlor, one side of which was lined with glass panels that provided a view of a lushly planted indoor conservatory. “I’ve never had it before,” she replied. The beverage had never been served at Maidstone’s—and even if it had been, Lord Radnor would never have allowed her to have it. And certainly the servants at Stony Cross Park had rarely, if ever, enjoyed such luxuries. Butter and eggs were seldom allotted to servants, much less something as dear as chocolate.
“Never? Well, then, you shall try some today.” Sophia’s smile contained an impish quality as she added, “I happen to be a great authority on the subject.”
The parlor was decorated in warm shades of burgundy, gold, and green, the heavy mahogany furniture upholstered in brocade and velvet. Small tables with leather tops were scattered throughout the room, bearing tempting loads of folio books, novels, and newspapers. At Sophia’s direction, Lottie sat on an overstuffed couch, against a row of pillows embroidered in patterns of animals and flowers. Nick sat beside her after Sophia took a nearby chair.
A housemaid approached Sophia, received a few whispered directions, and left the room discreetly.
“My husband will be here momentarily,” Sophia informed them serenely. “Now, Charlotte, do tell me how you and Nick met. His note was quite brief, and I am eager for details.” Lottie opened and closed her mouth like a landed fish, unable to form a reply. She did not want to lieto Sophia, but the truth—that their marriage was a cold, practical arrangement—was too embarrassing to admit. Gentry answered for her, his large hand covering hers.
“We met in Hampshire during an investigation,” he told his sister, playing with Lottie’s fingers as he spoke. “Lottie was affianced to Lord Radnor, and she went into hiding to avoid him. He hired me to find her, and when I did...” He shrugged and let Sophia draw her own conclusions.
“But Lord Radnor is at least three decades older than Charlotte,” Sophia said, wrinkling her nose. She glanced at Lottie with frank sympathy. “And having met him on one or two occasions, I find him to be quite odd. No wonder you didn’t suit.” She glanced at Gentry. “And were you immediately taken with Charlotte, when you found her?”
“Who wouldn’t be?” Gentry parried with a bland smile. He drew a slow circle on Lottie’s palm, stroked the insides of her fingers, brushed his thumb over the delicate veins of her wrist. The subtle exploration made her feel hot and breathless, her entire being focused on the fingertip that feathered along the tender flesh of her upper palm. Most disconcerting of all was the realization that Gentry didn’t even know what he was doing. He fiddled lazily with her hand and talked with Sophia, while the chocolate service was brought to the parlor and set out on the table.
“Isn’t it charming?” Sophia asked, indicating the flowered porcelain service with a flourish.She picked up the tall, narrow pot and poured a dark, fragrant liquid into one of the small cups, filling the bottom third. “Most people use cocoa powder, but the best results are obtained by mixing the cream with chocolate liquor.” Expertly she stirred a generous spoonful of sugar into the steaming liquid. “Not liquor as in wine or spirits, mind you. Chocolate liquor is pressed from the meat of the beans, after they have been roasted and hulled.”
“It smells quite lovely,” Lottie commented, her breath catching as Gentry’s fingertip investigated the plump softness at the base of her thumb.
Sophia turned her attention to preparing the other cups. “Yes, and the flavor is divine. I much prefer chocolate to coffee in the morning.”
“Is it a st-stimulant, then?” Lottie asked, finally managing to jerk her hand away from Gentry. Deprived of his plaything, he gave her a questioning glance.
“Yes, of a sort,” Sophia replied, pouring a generous amount of cream into the sweetened chocolate liquor. She stirred the cups with a tiny silver spoon. “Although it is not quite as animating as coffee, chocolate is uplifting in its own way.” She winked at Lottie. “Some even claim that chocolate rouses the amorous instincts.”
“How interesting,” Lottie said, doing her best to ignore Gentry as she accepted her cup. Inhaling the rich fumes appreciatively, she took a tiny sip of the shiny, dark liquid. The robust sweetness slid along her tongue and tickled the back of her throat.
Sophia laughed in delight at Lottie’s expression. “You like it, I see. Good—now I have found an inducement to make you visit often.”
Lottie nodded as she continued to drink. By the time she reached the bottom of the cup, her head was swimming, and her nerves were tingling from the mixture of heat and sugar.
Gentry set his cup aside after a swallow or two. “Too rich for my taste, Sophia, although I compliment your skill in preparing it. Besides, my amorous instincts need no encouragement.” He smiled as the statement caused Lottie to choke on the last few drops of chocolate.
“Would you like some more, Charlotte?” Sophia offered.
“Oh, yes, please.”
Before Sophia poured more of the magical liquid, however, a tall, black-haired man entered the room. He spoke in an extraordinary voice, deep and gently abraded, his accent exquisitely cultured. “Pardon me for taking so long to join you. It was necessary to conclude some business with my estate agent.”
Somehow Lottie had expected that Sir Ross would be settled and solid and pompously middle-aged. He was, after all, in his early forties. However, Sir Ross appeared to be more fit and virile than most men half his age. He was handsome in an aloof way, his natural authority so potent a force that Lottie instinctively shrank backward into the cushions. He was tall and lean, possessing a combination of self-assurance and vitality that made callow youth seem entirely graceless. His innate elegance would have beenapparent even if he had been dressed in rustic peasant garb. As it was, he was clad in a crisply tailored black coat and matching trousers, with a charcoal silk necktie knotted deftly around his collar. His gaze swept over the scene, touching briefly on Lottie, lingering a bit longer on Gentry, then settling on his wife. What strange eyes he had... a gray so piercing and brilliant that it made her think of lightning trapped in a bottle.
Amazingly, Sophia spoke to the remarkable creature as if he were an ordinary man, her tone decidedly flirtatious. “Now that you’re here, I suppose we’ll have to discuss something dull, like politics or judicial reform.”
