Page 43 of Worth Any Price (Bow Street #3)

The word love made Nick flinch. “What would it take to make you shut your gob, Cannon?”

“A glass of 1805 Cossart-Gordon would probably do it,” came the amiable reply. “And if I’m not mistaken, they’ve just brought out a case in the billiards room.”

“Let’s go, then,” Nick said, and they strode from the ballroom together.

“Lottie Howard!” Two young women rushed over to her, and they clasped hands tightly, sharing grins of barely suppressed glee. Were it not for their strict training at Maidstone’s, the three of them would have squealed in a most unladylike manner.

“Samantha,” Lottie said warmly, gazing at the tall, attractive brunette who had always been like a kind older sister to her.

“And Arabella!” Arabella Markenfield looked exactly the same as she had at school.

.. pretty and a bit plump, with strawberry blond ringlets that were perfectly arranged on her porcelain forehead.

“I’m Lady Lexington now,” Samantha informed her with considerable pride. “I caught an earl, no less, with a good, sound fortune.” Slipping an arm around Lottie’s waist, she turned her slightly. “He’s standing right there, close to the conservatory doors. The tall, balding one. Do you see him?”

Lottie nodded as she caught sight of a somber-looking gentleman who appeared to be in his early forties, with large eyes that seemed slightly out of proportion to his long, narrow face. “He looks to be a very pleasant gentleman,” Lottie remarked, and Samantha laughed.

“Very tactful, dear. I’ll be the first to admit that the earl is not much to look at, and he has no sense of humor. However, men with a sense of humor often tend to grate on one’s nerves. And he is an impeccable gentleman.”

“I’m so glad,” Lottie said sincerely, knowing from past conversations with Samantha that such a marriage was very much what she had desired. “And you, Arabella?”

“I married into the Seaforths last year,” Arabella confided with a giggle. “You’ve heard of them, I’m sure... do you remember, one of the daughters was in the class ahead of us...”

“Yes,” Lottie said, recalling that the Seaforths were a great untitled family with a considerable quantity of rich farming land. “Don’t say you married her brother Harry?”

“Just so!” The girl’s ringlets danced merrily on her forehead as she continued with great animation.

“Harry is quite fine-looking, though he’s grown as round as a bait-pot since our wedding.

And he is ever so charming. Of course I’ll never have a title, but there are compensations.

.. my own carriage... a real French lady’s maid, not one of those Cockney maids who throw out a see-voo-play or a bon-joor every once in a while!

” She giggled at her own wit, and sobered enough to regard Lottie with round, curious eyes.

“Dear Lottie, is it true that you are Lady Sydney now?”

“Yes.” Lottie glanced in the direction of her husband, who was walking from the ballroom in the company of Sir Ross, their long legs matched at an equal pace.

She felt an unexpected rush of pride at the sight of him, so virile and graceful, his bold good looks displayed to their best advantage in the elegant evening clothes.

“Handsome as the devil,” Samantha commented, following her gaze. “Is he as wicked as they say, Lottie?”

“Not in the least,” Lottie lied. “Lord Sydney is as mild-tempered and obliging a gentleman as could be found anywhere.”

It was a case of unfortunate timing that at that moment, Nick happened to glance in her direction.

His gaze encompassed her in a smoldering sweep that threatened to singe her clothing to ashes.

Knowing what that look meant, and what would happen in the evening hours after the ball, Lottie felt a thrill deep inside, and she struggled to maintain her composure.

Samantha and Arabella, meanwhile, had snapped open their fans and were employing them vigorously. “Good heavens,” Samantha exclaimed in a low voice, “the way he looks at you is positively indecent, Lottie.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Lottie said demurely, though she felt her own cheeks heating.

Arabella giggled behind her own painted silk fan. “The only time I’ve ever seen that expression on my Harry’s face is when a plate of Yorkshire pudding is set before him.”

Samantha’s dark eyes were keen with interest. “I was under the impression that Lord Radnor owned you part and parcel, Lottie. How did you escape him? And where have you been these past two years? And most of all, how in heaven’s name did you manage to catch a man like Nick Gentry—and is this long-lost-lord business some bit of trickery? ”

“No,” Lottie said instantly, “he truly is Lord Sydney.”

“Did you know that he was a viscount when you married?”

“Well, no.” Lottie strove to offer the simplest explanation possible. “To start with, you know that I left school to avoid marrying Lord Radnor—”

“The definitive scandal of Maidstone’s,” Arabella interrupted. “They still talk of it, I’m told. None of the teachers or staff could conceive that sweet, obedient Charlotte Howard would simply disappear like that.”

Lottie paused in momentary embarrassment. She was far from proud of her actions—it was simply that she’d had no other choice. “To avoid being found, I changed my name and went to work as a companion to Lady Westcliff in Hampshire—”

“You worked ?” Arabella repeated in awe. “My word, how you must have suffered.”

“Not unduly,” Lottie replied with a wry smile.

“The Westcliffs were kind, and I liked the dowager countess quite well. It was while I was in her employ that I made the acquaintance of Mr. Gentry—er, Lord Sydney. He proposed quite soon after we met, and...” She paused, an image flashing in her mind of that evening in Lord Westcliff’s library, the firelight playing over Nick’s face as he bent to her breast. ..

“And I accepted,” she said hastily, feeling her face turn fiery red.

“Hmmm.” Samantha smiled at Lottie’s discomfiture, seeming to guess the reason behind it. “Apparently it was a memorable proposal.”

“Were your parents terribly put out with you?” Arabella asked.

Lottie nodded, reflecting with sad irony that “put out” was singularly inadequate to describe her family’s reaction.

Samantha’s face was grave with understanding.

“They won’t be angry forever, dear,” she said with a pragmatism that was far more comforting than sympathy would have been.

“If your husband is half as wealthy as the rumors indicate, the Howards will eventually prove more than happy to claim him as a son-in-law.”

The three of them conversed for a while, eagerly becoming reacquainted and making plans to call on each other soon.

Lottie was unaware of time passing until she heard the orchestra begin to play a newly popular waltz called “Blossoms in the Spring,” a melody that immediately inspired a host of eager couples to begin whirling through the room.

Wondering if Nick would remember to dance the first waltz with her, Lottie decided to look for him at the side of the room.

Excusing herself from the company of her friends, she walked along one of the first-floor galleries, which was separated from the dance floor by carved wooden railings and bowers of greenery and pink roses.

A few couples were ab sorbed in private conversations, half-concealed by the massive flower arrangements, and Lottie averted her gaze with a slight smile as she passed them.

She was startled by a sudden touch on her arm, and she stopped with a jolt of anticipation, expecting that Nick had found her.

But as she glanced down at the growing pressure on her gloved wrist, she did not see Nick’s large, square hand.

A set of long, almost skeletal fingers had wrapped around her wrist, and with a shock of cold horror, she heard the voice that had haunted her nightmares for years.

“Did you think you could avoid me forever, Charlotte?”