Sophia brought the shallow glass to her face and enjoyed the cool, tickling sensation as the bubbles burst near her nose. 'What makes it sparkle?' she asked almost dreamily. 'It must be magic.'
'Actually, it is a process of double fermentation,' he informed her, his tone so flat and dry that he reminded her of Ross. 'The 'devil's wine,' it is called, because of its explosive nature.'
Sophia took an experimental sip of the dry, effervescent vintage and wrinkled her nose. 'I still don't like it,' she said, and the old man chuckled.
'Try it again. You will acquire the taste for it eventually.'
Although she was tempted to point out that she would never have the opportunity to acquire such a taste, Sophia nodded obediently and drank. 'I like the shape of the glass,' she commented while the champagne trickled down her throat.
'Do you?' A mischievous sparkle entered his eyes. 'That style is called the coupe. It was modeled after Marie Antoinette's breast.'
Sophia gave him a reproving glance. 'You are wicked, Mr. Cannon,' she said, and he cackled in delight.
A new voice entered the conversation. 'It wasnot modeled after Marie Antoinette's breast. Grandfather is trying to shock you.' The speaker was Ross, austerely handsome in his evening clothes, a black mask dangling in his fingers. His teeth flashed in a smile so easy and charming that Sophia's breath caught. There was no man who could equal him tonight, no one who possessed his mixture of elegance and rugged masculinity.
Trying to conceal her reaction to him, Sophia took a deep swallow of cold champagne, and choked on the icy burn. 'Good evening, Sir Ross,' she said hoarsely, her eyes watering. She stood awkwardly, looking for a place to deposit her half-filled glass.
'Well, Grandfather,' Ross continued, 'I should have known you would be doing your best to corrupt Miss Sydney.'
'I would hardly call a good bottle of Rheimscorruption ,' Cannon replied defensively. 'Why, it is a health tonic! As the French say, champagne is the universal medicine.'
'That is the first time I've ever heard you agree with the French, sir.' The amusement lingered in Ross's eyes as he caught Sophia's wrist, preventing her from leaving. 'Stay and finish your champagne, little one,' he said softly. 'As far as I'm concerned, you may have anything you desire.'
Flushing, Sophia tugged at her wrist, conscious of the elderly man's attention on them. 'I desire to return to my duties, sir.'
To her disbelief, Ross lifted her hand to his mouth and kissed her palm, right in front of his grandfather. Their relationship couldn't have been more clear if he had proclaimed it from a podium.
'Sir Ross,' she said softly, shocked.
He held her gaze deliberately, informing her silently that he was no longer going to conceal his feelings for her.
Unnerved, Sophia handed her glass to him. 'I must go,' she said breathlessly. 'Please excuse me.' As she left with great haste, Ross remained with his grandfather, watching her so intently that she could feel the heat of his gaze on her back.
Glancing at his grandfather, Ross raised his brows expectantly. 'Well?'
'It is a good match,' Cannon said, pouring more champagne with obvious relish. 'She is a pleasant girl without pretensions. Much like her grandmother. Have you sampled her charms yet?'
Ross smiled at the abrupt question. 'If I had, I wouldn't tell you.'
'I think you have,' the old man said, regarding him over the rim of the glass. 'And if she is anything like her grandmother was, you had a fine time indeed.'
'You old fox Don't say that you and Sophia Jane...?' 'Oh, yes.' The memory appeared to be a delicious one. Lost in private reflections, Cannon gently rolled the stem of the champagne glass between his time-worn fingers. 'For years I've loved her,' he said softly. 'I should have tried harder to win her. Don't let anything come between you and the woman you love, my boy.'
The smile vanished from Ross's face, and he replied gravely, 'No, sir.'
As Sophia strode across the stone-and-marble-paved floor of the great hall, she saw a dark figure detaching itself from the shadows of a domed alcove. It was a man wearing a black silk mask, dressed in evening wear like the other guests. He was young and strapping, with broad shoulders and a slim waist--the same unusually powerful build that most of the Bow Street runners possessed. What was such a man doing far away from the drawing room? Sophia paused uncertainly. 'Sir? May I assist you?'
He took a long time to respond. Finally he approached, stopping within an arm's length of her. The eyes behind the mask were a bright jewel-blue, mesmerizing in their intensity. When he spoke, his voice was low and hoarse. 'I've been looking for you.'
Puzzled, Sophia tilted her head as she gazed at him. Something about him made her uneasy, her nerves thrilling with a sense of dangerous awareness. The mask concealed most of his face, but there was no disguising the bold jut of his nose or the generous shape of his mouth. His brown hair was short and neatly brushed, and his skin was unusually swarthy for a gentleman.
'How may I help you?' she asked cautiously.
'What is your name?'
'Miss Sydney, sir.'
'You are the housekeeper here?'
'Only for tonight. I work for Sir Ross Cannon at Bow Street.'
'Bow Street is too dangerous a place for you,' he said, sounding annoyed.
He was drunk, she thought, and inched backward.
'You are a spinster?' he asked, following her slowly.
'I am unwed,' she acknowledged.
'Why would a woman like you remain unmarried?'
The questions were strange and inappropriate. Uneasily Sophia decided that it would be wise for her to leave as soon as possible. 'You are kind to spare me your concern, sir. However, I have duties to attend to. If you will excuse me--'
'Sophia,' he whispered, staring at her with what seemed to be longing.
Startled, she wondered how he knew her first name. She stared at him with wide eyes, but then a sudden noise distracted her. It was the sound of laughter and cheering, accompanied by a vigorous swell of music and a cacophony of fireworks explosions. Bursts of brilliant light lit the sky and flickered through the windows. It must be midnight, Sophia realized. Time for the unmasking. Automatically she looked toward the sound.
The stranger moved behind her, so swift and silent that she did not sense him until she felt something cold drop on her chest. She reached up and fumbled at the foreign weight, then heard a smooth click as something was clasped around her neck.
'Good-bye,' came a warm whisper near her ear.
By the time she had turned around, he was gone.
Dumbstruck, Sophia put both hands to her chest and felt a web of stones and precious metal. A necklace. But why would a stranger do such a thing? She was bewildered and terrified, her feet carrying her swiftly outside. She pulled at the heavy necklace, searched for the clasp, but could not seem to unshackle herself.
Anxiously Sophia rushed to the open conservatory, where she had left Ross and his grandfather. A crowd had gathered around them, with many more coming from the ballroom. Rockets filled the sky with clusters of brilliant color, forming shapes of trees and animals, while rain-fire drifted downward through billows of smoke. The scene was chaotic and deafening.
Sophia stood huddled against the side of the house, her hands ineffectually trying to cover the rich glitter at her throat. Although Ross could not possibly have seen or heard her, his head turned as if he sensed she was there. At the sight of her starkly pale face, he reacted instantly. He moved through the cheering crowd, his gaze never leaving her, and he reached her in a few strides. The noise made it impossible for them to speak.
Ross took one of her hands and gently pulled it from her throat, exposing the mass of diamonds. His eyes narrowed at the sight. Sophia tugged helplessly at the heavy collar, trying to remove it. Suddenly she felt his warm fingers behind her neck. The clasp was unfastened, and the weight of gold and jewels slid away from her throat. Pocketing the necklace, Ross took her hand and drew her inside the house.
He did not stop until they reached the blue parlor adjoining the central hall. After the earsplitting noise and
