Page 37 of Worth Any Price
She rose automatically, and Sir Ross stood as well. Troubled, Lottie glanced at her brother-in-law. There was no glint of victory in his eyes. She did not believe that his motives had anything to do with vengeance or ill will. She was certain that Sir Ross—and Sophia—thought it quite necessary that Gentry reclaim his former identity. She longed to discuss the matter with them, but it was clear that Gentry was barely maintaining his self-control. Any other man would have been gratified to recover his title, his lands, and family possessions. However, it was obvious that to Gentry this was a nightmare.
Lottie held her silence during the carriage ride home. Her husband was utterly still, trying to contain his explosive outrage, and most likely struggling to comprehend the suddenness with which his life had changed. Not unlike her own mood upon leaving Stony Cross Park, she thought wryly.
The moment they arrived at the house on Betterton Street, Gentry practically leapt from the carriage, leaving Lottie to accept the footman’shelp in descending from the vehicle. By the time she reached the front door, he was nowhere to be seen.
The housekeeper was in the entrance hall, her perplexed expression betraying that she had just seen Gentry storm inside the house.
“Mrs. Trench,” Lottie said calmly, “did you happen to see where Mr. Gentry went?”
“I believe he is in the library, miss. That is... Mrs. Gentry.”
Good Lord, how strange it was to be called that. And it was stranger still to contemplate the very strong possibility that before long she would be called Lady Sydney. Frowning, Lottie glanced from the staircase to the hall leading toward the library. Part of her wanted to retreat to the safety and seclusion of her room. However, the other part was irresistibly drawn to find Gentry.
After Mrs. Trench took her bonnet and gloves, Lottie found herself walking to the library. She knocked at the closed door before entering. The library was paneled in dark cherrywood, and fitted with carpets woven with gold medallions on a brown background. Multipaned windows stretched up to the top of the ceiling, which was at least eighteen feet high.
Gentry’s broad-shouldered form was at one of the windows, his back tensing visibly as he heard her approach. A brandy snifter was clenched in his hand, the delicate bowl of the glass looking as if it might shatter in his long fingers.
Lottie hesitated beside one of the towering cherrywood bookshelves, noticing that the library was strangely bereft of volumes.
“Your library is nearly empty,” she commented.
Gentry stood at the window, his stare brooding and vacant. He tossed back the remainder of his brandy with a stiff-wristed motion. “Buy some books, then. Fill it from floor to ceiling if you like.”
“Thank you.” Encouraged by the fact that he had not yet told her to leave, Lottie ventured closer. “Mr. Gentry...”
“Don’t call me that,” he said in a burst of irritation.
“I’m sorry. Nick.” She drew closer to him. “I wish to correct something that Sir Ross said—you have no responsibility to make me Lady Sydney. As I told you before, I do not care if you are a peer or a commoner.”
He was quiet for a long time, then he let out a tense sigh. Striding to the sideboard, he poured another brandy.
“Is there any way of stopping Sir Ross from carrying out his plans?” Lottie asked. “Perhaps we might seek some legal counsel—”
“It’s too late. I know Sir Ross—he has thought of every possible countermove. And his influence extends everywhere; the judiciary, law enforcement, Parliament, the Crown office... that writ of summons is going to arrive, no matter what the hell I do to avoid it.” He uttered an unfamiliar word that sounded quite foul. “I’d like to break every bone in Cannon’s body, the insufferable ass.”
“What can I do?” she asked quietly.
“You heard my sister, didn’t you? You’re goingto play lady of the manor and help me pretend to be a viscount.”
“You managed quite well at Stony Cross Park,” she pointed out. “You gave a convincing appearance of nobility.”
“That was only for a few days,” he said bitterly. “But now it appears I’ll have to play the role for the rest of my life.” He shook his head in furious disbelief. “God! I don’t want this. I’m going to kill someone before long.”
Lottie tilted her head as she regarded him speculatively. No doubt she should fear him when he was in this mood. He did indeed look as though he was ready to commit murder, his eyes gleaming with bloodlust. But curiously she was filled with sympathy, and even more than that, a sense of partnership. They were both floundering, both facing a life they had neither planned nor asked for.
“How did you feel at Stony Cross Park, when you introduced yourself as Lord Sydney?” she asked.
“At first I found it amusing. The irony of masquerading as myself. But after the first day, it became a weight on my shoulders. The mere mention of the name annoys the hell out of me.”
Lottie wondered why he was so antagonized by the name he had been born with. There had to be some reason other than the ones he had given so far.
“Nick, what did Sir Ross mean when he said that you were financially equipped to manage the title?”
His mouth twisted. “He meant that I could afford the cost of maintaining a large estate and the kind of lifestyle required of a peer.”
“How could he know such a thing?”
“He doesn’t know for certain.”
