assistance from the carriage and accompanied him to the door. A few knocks of his gloved hand, and the oak- paneled door opened in well-oiled silence.
The stone-floored entrance hall was immense, with a grand central staircase that split on the second landing and led to the east and west wings of the mansion. The walls were covered with gigantic tapestries woven in apricot, dark gold, and faded blue. Sophia was interested to see that two sets of receiving rooms flanked the entrance hall. The set on the left was decorated in a masculine style, with elegant dark furniture and blue tones, whereas the set on the right was predominantly feminine, the walls covered with peach silk, the furniture delicate and gilded.
A butler showed Sophia to the peach receiving room, where Sir Ross's mother awaited.
Mrs. Catherine Cannon was a tall and elegant woman, dressed in a simple day gown, with shimmering amethyst combs in her upswept gray hair. Her face was angular, but her green eyes were kind. 'Miss Sydney,' she exclaimed, coming forward. 'Welcome to Silverhill Park. Thank you for rescuing me from a terrible disaster.' 'I hope I may be of some use,' Sophia said as the older woman took her hands and pressed them warmly. 'I explained to Sir Ross, however, that I have little experience in these matters--'
'Oh, I have every faith in you, Miss Sydney! You strike me as a very capable young woman.'
'Yes, but I--'
'Now, one of the maids will show you to your room so that you may freshen up after that long carriage ride. Then we will walk through the house, and I shall introduce you to the servants.'
Sophia was shown to a small but serviceable room that had belonged to the former housekeeper of Silverhill Park. She exchanged the white collar of her dark dress for a fresh one, brushed her skirts and shook the dust from them, and washed her face with cool water. As she returned downstairs, she marveled at the loveliness of her surroundings; the ceilings of interlaced ribs and painted panels, the galleries filled with sculpture, and the endless rows of windows providing lush views of the gardens outside.
Rejoining Catherine Cannon, Sophia accompanied her on a tour of the house, doing her best to commit every detail of the place to memory. She was vaguely puzzled by the way Ross's mother treated her, which was with far more solicitude than a servant merited. As they strolled through the house, Mrs. Cannon told her stories about Ross--that as a boy, he had been given to playing pranks on the butler and wheeling his friends about on the gardener's flat-barrow.
'It seems that Sir Ross was not always serious and solemn, then,' Sophia commented.
'Heavens, no! That came only after his wife passed away.' Mrs. Cannon's mood changed suddenly, her lips taking on a regretful softness. 'Such a tragedy. Devastating to all of us.'
'Yes,' Sophia said softly. 'Sir Ross told me about it.'
'He did?' Catherine came to a halt in the middle of a huge drawing room papered in a white-and-gold French- flocked design. She regarded Sophia with an arrested stare.
Sophia returned her gaze uneasily, wondering if she had said something wrong.
'Well,' Mrs. Cannon murmured with a faint smile. 'I have never known my son to mention a word about Eleanor to anyone. Ross is an unusually private man.'
Feeling that Mrs. Cannon was perhaps drawing some conclusion that should not be drawn, Sophia tried to remedy the woman's misunderstanding. 'Sir Ross mentioned a few things about his past during his fever. It was only because he was weary and ill--'
'No, my dear,' came Catherine's gentle reply. 'My son obviously trusts you, and values your company.' She paused and added cryptically, 'And any woman who is able to draw my son away from that sordid world of Bow Street will have my blessing.'
'You are not pleased by his position as Chief Magistrate, Mrs. Cannon?'
They resumed their stroll through the drawing room as Ross's mother replied, 'My son has given ten years of his life to public service and been remarkably successful. Naturally I am quite proud of him. But I feel the time has come when Ross should turn his attention to other matters. He must marry again, and sire children. Oh, I am aware of the impression Ross gives that he is somewhat cold-natured, but I assure you, he has the same needs as any man. To be loved. To have a family of his own.'
'Oh, he is not cold-natured at all. Any child would be quite fortunate to have such a father. And I'm certain that as a husband, Sir Ross would be--' Suddenly realizing that she was chattering like a parrot, Sophia snapped her mouth shut.
'Yes,' Catherine said with a smile. 'He was an excellent husband to Eleanor. When he marries again, I am positive that his bride will have few complaints.' Seeing Sophia's discomfort, she spoke in a brisk manner. 'Shall we go to the formal dining room? It is sided by a serving room--quite a convenient area to keep the dishes hot during a long supper.'
During the day, Sophia was so busy that she had little time to think about Ross. However, there was no escape from the longing and desolation that filled the quiet evening hours. Utterly defeated, she admitted to herself that she had fallen in love with the man she had wanted to ruin. She had been vanquished by her own heart. There was nothing to do but abandon her plans for revenge. There would be no seduction...no tainted victory. She would leave her position at Bow Street as soon as possible and try to go on with the rest of her life.
Her new resolve left her feeling drained but peaceful, and she concentrated on the coming weekend party with wan determination.
Twenty-five bedrooms in the main house would be occupied with guests, as well as another dozen in the nearby gatehouse reserved for the use of bachelors. Families from Windsor, Reading, and surrounding towns would attend the masked ball on Saturday night, bringing the number of guests to three hundred and fifty.
Unfortunately, the written notes and plans left by the former housekeeper, Mrs. Bridgewell, left much to be desired. Wryly Sophia reflected that the absent Mrs. Bridgewell had probably been far more concerned with her own romantic affairs than with the upcoming weekend party. Sophia busied herself with taking inventory of the china and flatware, the contents of the butler's pantry and wine cellar, the larders and linen closets. Consulting with both the cook and Mrs. Cannon, Sophia made notes on menu suggestions, and the proper china for each course. She met with the butler and the master gardener, and laid out plans for a score of housemaids. The village butcher, grocer, and milkman came to call and took Sophia's written orders for the approaching celebration.
In the midst of this activity, Sophia made the acquaintance of Mr. Robert Cannon, the elderly gentleman whose ninetieth birthday was the cause of all the excitement. Ross's mother had tried to prepare Sophia for his outspokenness. 'When you meet my father-in-law, I should not wish you to be disconcerted by his manner. As he has aged, he has become quite blunt. Do not be put off by anything he says. He is a dear man, if a trifle lacking in discretion.'
Walking back from the icehouse, set apart from the main house, Sophia saw an old man sitting beneath a canvas awning in the rose garden. A small table laden with refreshments had been placed beside him. His chair had been fitted with a leg rest, and Sophia recalled Mrs. Cannon mentioning that her father-in-law was often troubled by gout.
'You, girl,' he said imperiously. 'Come here. I have not seen you before.'
Sophia obeyed. 'Good morning, Mr. Cannon,' she said, dipping into a respectful curtsy. Robert Cannon was a handsome old man with a ruff of silver hair and a craggy but distinguished face. His eyes were a steely blue-gray. 'I suppose you are the girl my daughter-in-law told me about. The one from Bow Street.'
'Yes, sir. I hope very much that I may help to make your birthday celebration satisfactory--'
'Yes, yes,' he cut in impatiently, waving his hand to indicate that the event was trivial nonsense. 'My daughter-in-law will seize on any excuse for a party. Now, you will tell me exactly how things stand between you and my grandson.'
Caught completely off guard, Sophia stared at him openmouthed. 'Sir,' she said cautiously, 'I am afraid I do not understand your question.'
'Catherine says that he has taken an interest in you--which is a welcome piece of news. I want to see my family line continue, and Ross and his brother are the last of the Cannon males. Has he come up to scratch yet?'
Sophia was too shocked to reply quickly. How in the world had he arrived at such a conclusion? 'Mr. Cannon, you are entirely mistaken! I--I have no intention of...of...and Sir Ross would not...' Her voice trailed into silence as her mind searched futilely for words.
Cannon regarded her with a skeptical smile. 'Catherine says you are a Sydney,' he commented. 'I knew your
