Page 34 of Lady Sophia’s Lover (Bow Street #2)
W ith Ross gone for the day, there was little Sophia could do in the office, so she decided to take inventory of the kitchen larders.
The new information about her brother and his tainted past was unexpected and sickening; she could hardly think straight.
She went about her tasks mechanically, feeling defeated and weary, until finally something jolted her from the numbness.
A foul smell emanated from the slate shelf of the wet larder, and Sophia gasped in disgust as she searched for the source of the odor. “My God, what is that?” she asked. Eliza hobbled to the door of the larder to watch her.
It did not take long for Sophia to discover that the putrid smell belonged to a salmon that was long past its prime. “We could soak it in vinegar and limewater,” Eliza suggested hesitantly. “That will take away most of the smell—if it’s not too far gone, that is.”
Sophia gagged as she threw a cloth over the slimy mess and lifted it from the shelf. “Eliza, nothing could salvage this fish. ‘Far gone’ is a distant memory…it is foul from head to tail.”
“Here, I’ll wrap it,” the cook-maid muttered, fetching a day-old newspaper. Expertly she bound the salmon until its odor was safely smothered.
Sophia watched her with annoyance. “Lucie bought the fish at Lannigan’s only this morning, didn’t she?”
Eliza nodded. “He told her it was fresh.”
“Fresh!” Sophia exclaimed with a cynical snort.
“I’ll have her take it back, then.” Eliza frowned. “Except that I sent her out to fetch nasturtium seeds for pickling.”
“I will take it back myself,” Sophia said decisively, knowing that Eliza’s knee was not sufficiently healed to allow for a walk to the fishmonger’s shop.
She welcomed the opportunity to exercise her legs and perhaps clear her mind.
“I have a few things to say to Mr. Lannigan. How dare he send such a poor excuse of a salmon to Sir Ross’s household! ”
“Miss Sydney, I think you will have to wait. Ernest can’t go with you, as he has gone about some errands for Sir Grant.”
“I will go alone, then. It isn’t far, and I will return before anyone knows I’ve been away.”
“But Sir Ross has said many times that you are always to take a companion when you go out. If anything happens to you…” Eliza nearly shuddered.
“Nothing will happen to me. It’s not as if I am venturing into a rookery. I am merely visiting the fishmonger.”
“But Sir Ross—”
“You let me handle Sir Ross,” Sophia murmured as she went to fetch her bonnet.
Faced with Sophia’s righteous indignation, and her reminders of all that Sir Ross had done for him in the past, Mr. Lannigan was full of apologies.
“’Twas a mistake,” he mumbled in his thick Cockney accent, his gaze chasing all around the shop to avoid hers.
Embarrassment mottled his meaty face. “Why, I newer would send a salmon what’s gawn awf to Bow Street!
To try an’ chisel Sir Ross…why, I’d be off me nob to do such a thing, wouldn’ I?
” His expression lightened as a possible explanation occurred to him.
“’Twas that feather ’eaded Lucie…she took the wrong fish, she did! ”
“Well, then,” Sophia replied crisply, “I would like to exchange it for the correct fish, please.”
“Yes, miss.” Taking the paper-wrapped package from her, he sped with alacrity to the back of the shop, muttering to himself. “Only the best for Sir Ross, that’s whot I allus say…”
While she waited for the new salmon to be wrapped, Sophia became aware of a minor commotion outside the shop. Curious, she went to the small, thick-paned window and watched as an excited crowd gathered around the entrance of the building across the street.
“I wonder what they are looking at.”
Lannigan answered with a note of something that sounded oddly like pride. “Gentry’s on the ’unt again.”
“Nick Gentry?” Sophia glanced over her shoulder at the fishmonger, her brows lifting in surprise. “He is trying to capture someone, you say?”
Lannigan smoothed out a rectangle of brown paper and laid the fish reverently at one end. “Like a fox, Gentry is—the cleverest an’ mos’ fleet-footed thief-taker since Morgan, an’ that’s the truf.” Expertly he tucked the fish neatly into its paper casing.
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.”