"I don't believe there was much of a fortune to begin with. But my parents certainly spent whatever was available. I remember that when I was a child, we had the best of everything. And then when the money was gone, we nearly starved. Until Lord Radnor intervened." She continued to rub her forehead, letting her fingers drift to her aching temples. "The argument could easily be made that I've benefitted from his interest. Because of Radnor, I was sent to the most exclusive girls' school in London, and he paid for my food, my clothes, and even hired a maid to attend me. I thought he wanted to make a lady of me. At first I was even grateful that he took such care to prepare me for being his wife."
"But it became more complicated than that," Gentry murmured.
She nodded. "I was treated like a pet on a leash. Radnor decided what I could read, what I was allowed to eat...he instructed the teachers that my baths were to be ice cold, as he believed it was more conducive to good health than hot water. My diet was limited to broth and fruit wheneverhe decided that I needed slimming. I had to write a letter to him every day, to describe my progress on the subjects he wished me to study. There were rules for everything...I was never to speak unless my thoughts were well formed and gracefully expressed. I was never to offer an opinion about anything. If I fidgeted, my hands were tied to the seat of my chair. If I became sun-browned, I was kept indoors." She let out a strained sigh. "Lord Radnor wanted to make me into another person entirely. I could not fathom what it would be like to live with him as his wife, or what would happen when he finally realized that I could never attain the standards of perfection he set." Lost in the dark memories, Lottie twisted her fingers together and spoke without being fully aware of what she revealed. "How I dreaded coming home on holidays. He was always there, waiting for me. He barely allowed me time to see my brothers and sisters before I had to go with him and..."
She stopped suddenly, realizing that she had been about to confide the secret that had caused her parents to erupt in fury when she had tried to tell them. It had seethed at the bottom of her soul for years. They had somehow made it clear without words that the family's survival, and hers, depended entirely on her silence. Choking back the forbidden words, Lottie closed her eyes.
"You had to go with him and..." Gentry prompted.
She shook her head. "It doesn't matter now."
"Tell me." His voice was soft. "I assure you, nothing you say could shock me."
Lottie regarded him cautiously, realizing it was true. With all that Gentry had seen and heard and done, nothing would disgust him.
"Go on," he murmured.
And Lottie found herself telling him what no one had ever wanted to hear.
"Every time I came home, I had to go into a private room with Radnor, and account to him for my behavior at school, and answer his questions about my studies and my friends, and..." She stared into Gentry's inscrutable face, finding that his lack of reaction made it easy for her to continue. "He made me sit on his lap while we talked. He touched me, on my chest and beneath my skirts. It was repulsive, allowing him to...but I couldn't stop him, and my parents..." She shrugged helplessly. "They wouldn't listen when I tried to tell them. It went on for years. My mother slapped me once, and told me that I belonged to Lord Radnor, and that he was going to marry me anyway. She said I must let him do as he liked. The family's safety depended on his pleasure and goodwill." Shame infused her voice as she added, "And then I ran from him anyway, and by doing so I threw them all to the wolves."
Gentry spoke carefully, as if she were still an innocent child rather than a woman of twenty. "Did it go farther than touching, Lottie?"
She stared at him without comprehension.
His dark head tilted slightly, his voice remaining soft as he persisted. "Did he bring you or himself to climax, while you sat on his lap?"
Her face turned hot as she understood what he was referring to...the mysterious ecstatic culmination that some of the girls had described with naughty laughs. A physical pleasure that she certainly could never have felt with Radnor. "I don't think so."
"Believe me, you would know if either of you had," he said sardonically.
Lottie thought of the way that Gentry had touched her in the firelight, the coiling sensation she had felt in her breasts and loins and stomach, the sweet aching frustration that had tormented her so. Had that been climax, or was there more she had yet to experience? She was sorely tempted to ask her companion, but she kept silent out of fear that he might mock her for her ignorance.
The sway of the well-sprung carriage lulled her, and she yawned tightly behind her hand.
"You should rest," Gentry said quietly.
Lottie shook her head, reluctant to abandon herself in slumber while he watched. How silly to fear that small intimacy after all that had happened between them. She sought for a new topic of conversation.
"Why did you become a Bow Street runner? I can't believe you chose such a profession willingly."
A laugh rustled in his throat. "Oh, I was willing enough, considering the alternative. I made a deal with my brother-in-law, Sir Ross, three years ago. At the time he was chief magistrate of Bow Street, and he had evidence in his possession that would have had me dancing in the wind, had it ever been presented at a trial."
"Dancing in the wind," Lottie repeated, puzzled by the unfamiliar expression.
"Hanging. Dangling at the end of a rope. Believe me, I should have been drawn and quartered for some of the things I did in my underworld career." Pausing to observe the effect of his words, Gentry smiled slightly at her obvious unease. "In an effort to avoid the uncomfortable position of having to execute his wife's brother," he continued, "Sir Ross offered to conceal the damning evidence against me, if I would double-cross my underworld associates and become a runner."
"For how long?"
"Indefinitely. Naturally I agreed, as I had no loyalty to my former companions, and I didn't fancy having my neck stretched."
Lottie frowned. "Why did Sir Ross want you to become a runner?"
"I believe he had the mistaken impression that a few years of public service would reform me." Gentry grinned suddenly. "It hasn't yet."
"Isn't it rather hazardous for you to hunt criminals in such places, after you have betrayed them?"
"More than a few people would like my head on a silver platter," he admitted with reckless confidence. "In fact, you may not have to endure me for long. Everyone who knows me will vouch for the fact that I'm going to die young."
"I probably won't be that fortunate," she said sardonically. "But one can hope."
Immediately after Lottie said the words, she was inundated with shame. It wasn't like her to stoop to such nastiness. "I'm sorry," she said at once. "I shouldn't have said that."
"That's all right," he said easily. "I've inspired people to say much worse, with less cause."
"That I can believe," she replied, and he laughed.
"I'm going to snuff the light," he said. "I have to take my rest when and where I can find it. And tomorrow promises to be busy."
The silence that followed was surprisingly comfortable. Lottie settled into the corner, exhausted and dazed by the unforeseen direction her life had taken. She had expected that sleep would be elusive, with all the thoughts buzzing through her mind. However, a deep slumber soon overtook her, and she sagged against the seat cushions. Shifting, twisting restlessly, she sought a more comfortable position. She felt herself being gathered up and held like a child, and the dream was so soothing that she couldn't help but surrender to the insidious pleasure. Something soft brushed her forehead, and the last few pins that anchored her coiffure were gently drawn from her hair. She inhaled a wonderful scent, the crispness of wool and shaving soap overlaying the essence of clean male skin.