another request to be invited for a visit, Nick suppressed a smile. It seemed that Lottie was not the only willful daughter in the Howard family.
With a shy glance at Nick, Ellie left the room and heaved a sigh as she walked away from the parlor.
Heartened by her sister's obvious delight in seeing her again, Lottie sent Mrs. Howard a glance of entreaty. 'Mama, there are so many things I must tell you-'
'I am afraid there is no point in further discussion,' her mother said with brittle dignity. 'You have made your choice, and so have your father and I. Our connection with Lord Radnor is too entrenched to break. We will fulfill our obligations to him, Charlotte-even if you are unwilling.'
Lottie stared at her in confusion. 'How would you accomplish that, Mama?'
'That is no longer your concern.'
'But I don't see-' Lottie began, and Nick interrupted, his gaze fastened on Mrs. Howard. For years he had successfully negotiated with hardened criminals, overworked magistrates, the guilty, the innocent, and everyone in-between. He would be damned if he couldn't come to some sort of compromise with his own mother-in-law.
'Mrs. Howard, I understand that I am not your first choice as a husband for Lottie.' He gave her the wry, charming smile that worked well with most women. 'The devil knows that I wouldn't be anyone's preference. But as things stand, I will prove a far more generous benefactor than Radnor.' He glanced deliberately at their dilapidated surroundings and returned his gaze to hers. 'There is no reason you shouldn't make improvements to the house and refurbish it to your satisfaction. I will also pay for the children's education and see to it that Ellie has a proper coming-out. If you like, you can travel abroad and spend the summer months at the coast. Tell me whatever you want and you shall have it.'
The woman's expression was frankly disbelieving. 'And why would you do all that?'
'For my wife's pleasure,' he replied without hesitation.
Lottie turned to him with a round-eyed gaze of wonder. Casually he fingered the collar of her bodice, thinking that it was a small price to pay for what she gave him.
Unfortunately the intimate gesture seemed to harden Mrs. Howard against him. 'We want nothing from you, Mr. Gentry.'
'I understand that you're in debt to Radnor,' Nick persisted, feeling there was no way to address the issue other than with bluntness. 'I will take care of that. I've already offered to repay him for Lottie's years at school, and I will assume your other financial obligations as well.'
'You can't afford to keep such promises,' Mrs. Howard said. 'And even if you could, the answer would still be no. I bid you take your leave, Mr. Gentry, as I will not discuss the matter any more.'
Nick gave her a searching stare, detecting desperation...uneasiness...guilt. His every instinct warned him that she was hiding something. 'I will call on you again,' he said gently, 'when Mr. Howard is at home.'
'His answer will be no different than mine.'
Nick did not indicate that he had heard the refusal. 'Good day, Mrs. Howard. We take our leave with every wish for your health and happiness.'
Lottie's fingers clenched tightly through Nick's coat sleeve as she fought to master her emotions. 'Good-bye, Mama,' she said huskily and walked out with him.
Nick handed her carefully into the carriage and glanced back at the empty garden plot. All the windows of the house were vacant, except for one on the upper floor, where Ellie's round face appeared. She waved forlornly and rested her chin on her hands as the carriage door closed.
The vehicle pulled away with a jolt before the horses settled into their rhythm. Lottie leaned her head back against the velvet upholstery, her eyes closed, her mouth trembling. The glitter of unshed tears appeared beneath her rich gold lashes. 'Foolishly I had hoped for a warmer reception,' she said, trying for an ironic tone and failing completely as a half sob escaped her throat.
Nick sat there unnerved and damnably helpless, his body tensing all over. The sight of his wife crying filled him with alarm. To his relief, she managed to gain control over her emotions, and she pressed the heels of her gloved hands to her eyes.
'They couldn't afford to turn down my offer,' Nick said, 'unless they were still receiving money from Radnor.'
Lottie shook her head in confusion. 'But it makes no sense that he would continue to support my family now that I've married you.'
'Do they have any other source of income?'
'I can't think of one. Perhaps my uncle may be able to give them a little. Not enough to keep them indefinitely, however.'
'Hmmm.' Considering various possibilities, Nick leaned back into the corner of his seat, his gaze fixed on the scenery that jostled past the window.
'Nick...did you really tell Lord Radnor that you would repay my school tuition for all those years?'
'Yes.'
Strangely, Lottie did not ask why, only occupied herself with arranging her skirts and tugging her sleeves down to cover her wrists. Removing her gloves, she folded them and set them beside her on the carriage seat. Nick watched her through half-closed eyes. When she could find nothing left to adjust or straighten, she brought herself to look at him. 'What now?' she asked, as if preparing for a new round of difficulties.
Nick considered the question, feeling a tug in the center of his chest as he saw the resolution in her expression. She had endured the past few days with an equanimity that was extraordinary for a girl her age. No doubt any other young woman would have been reduced to a sobbing heap by now. He wanted to remove the strained look from her eyes and for once see her carefree and relaxed.
'Well, Mrs. Gentry,' he said, moving to the space beside her, 'for the next day or two, I propose that we have some fun.'
'Fun,' she repeated, as if the word were unfamiliar. 'Forgive me, but my capacity for enjoyment is rather diminished at present.'
Nick smiled and settled his hand on the outline of her thigh. 'You're in the most exciting city in the world,' he murmured, 'in the company of a virile young husband and his ill-gotten gains.' He kissed her ear, making her shiver. 'Believe me, Lottie, there is a great deal of fun to be had.'
Lottie would not have thought that anything could shake her from her despondency after the cold reception from her mother. However, Nick engaged her so thoroughly during the next few days that she found it difficult to think about anything but him.
That night Nick took her to a theatrical tavern where music and comical acts were staged to draw in customers. Located in Covent Garden, the Vestris-named after a once-popular Italian opera dancer-was a meeting ground for theatrical folk, slumming nobles, and all manner of colorful characters. The place was dirty and reeking of wine and smoke, the floor so sticky that Lottie was in danger of walking right out of her shoes. She crossed the threshold with reluctance, as young women of quality were never seen in such places unless in the company of their husbands-and even then it was highly questionable. Nick was immediately hailed by the occupants of the tavern, many of them appearing to be complete ruffians. After a brief interval of backslapping and an exchange of friendly insults, Nick took Lottie to a table. They were served a dinner of beefsteak and potatoes, a bottle of port, and two mugs of something called 'heavy wet.'
Although Lottie had never eaten in public before and felt absurdly self-conscious, she gamely attacked a beefsteak that could easily have served a family of four. 'What is this?' she asked, gingerly taking her mug and peering into the foaming brown depths.
'Ale,' Nick replied, resting his arm along the back of her chair. 'Try some.'
Obediently she took a sip of the thick grain-flavored beverage, and her entire face wrinkled in distaste. Laughing at her expression, Nick told a nearby barmaid to fetch her some gin punch. More patrons crowded into the building, mugs were clanked heavily on the battered wooden tables, and barmaids moved busily among the crowd with large pitchers.
At the front of the tavern, a comic musical ditty was being performed by a slender woman wearing men's clothing and a portly gentleman with a luxuriant moustache who was dressed as a country maid, with a huge false bosom that swayed from side to side as he moved. As the 'lad' chased the 'maid' around the tavern, singing a soulful love song that praised her beauty, the place erupted in bellows of laughter. The sheer silliness of the performance was impossible to resist. Tucked against her husband's side, with a cup of astringent gin punch in her
