As Sophia had remarked dryly to Nick, the invitations to this particular event had become such a mark of distinction that no one dared not to attend, in case it was perceived that they had not been asked.
Nick assumed a properly grateful expression as he was introduced to the duke and duchess, both of whom had known his parents. 'You bear a striking resemblance to your late father,' the duchess remarked as Nick bent over her gloved hand. She was a small but elegant woman, her silver head adorned with a diamond tiara, her neck weighted with ropes of pearls so massive that they threatened to topple her off-balance. 'Had I not been told of your parentage,' the duchess continued, 'I would have known it at once, just by looking at you. Those eyes...yes, you are indeed a Sydney. Such a tragedy for you to lose both parents at once. A boating accident, was it not?'
'Yes, Your Grace.' As Nick had been told, his mother had drowned when a boat had overturned at a water party. His father had died trying to save her.
'A great pity,' the duchess said. 'And such a devoted couple, as I recall. But perhaps in that light, it may have been a blessing for them to be taken together.'
'Indeed,' Nick said blandly, concealing a flare of annoyance. In the days just after his parents' death, the same sentiment had been voiced countless times-how kind fate had been in that regard, to let them die together. Unfortunately neither of the Sydneys' children had shared that romantic sentiment, wishing instead that at least one of their parents had survived. Nick's gaze shot to his sister, who stood nearby with Sir Ross. Overhearing the duchess's comment, Sophia's eyes narrowed slightly, and she exchanged a subtle, grim smile with Nick.
'Your Grace,' Lottie murmured, smoothing over the moment, 'how very kind it is of you to extend your hospitality to us. Lord Sydney and I will always attach the memory of your generosity to this special occasion.'
Obviously flattered, the duchess paused to speak with Lottie for a few moments, while the duke favored Nick with a congratulatory smile. 'An exceptional choice for a wife, Sydney,' the elderly man remarked. 'Poised, unaffected, and quite lovely. You are quite fortunate.'
No one would have disagreed with that, least of all Nick. Lottie was a revelation this evening, her gown stylish but not too sophisticated, her smile easy, her posture as regal as that of a young queen. Neither the grandeur of their surroundings nor the hundreds of curious gazes seemed to disturb her composure. She was so polished and immaculately pretty that no one suspected the layer of steel beneath her exterior. No one would ever guess that she was the kind of young woman who would have defied her parents and lived by her own wits for two years...the kind of woman who could hold her own against a hardened Bow Street runner.
As the duke continued to receive guests, the duchess continued to speak with Lottie, the gray head inclined toward the pale golden one.
Sophia drifted closer to Nick, employing her fan to mask the movement of her lips as she murmured to him, 'I told you so.'
Nick smiled wryly, recalling his sister's claim that Lottie would prove to be a great asset to him. 'Those are without doubt the four most irritating words in the English language, Sophia.'
'She is a dear creature, and far too good for you,' his sister informed him with amusement dancing in her eyes.
'I've never claimed otherwise.'
'And she seems rather fond of you,' Sophia continued, 'so if I were you, I would not take my good fortune for granted.'
'Fond,' Nick repeated warily, aware of a sudden increase of his pulse. 'Why do you say that?'
'Well, the other day she-' Sophia broke off as she caught sight of a newly arrived couple. 'Oh, there is Lord Farrington! Excuse me, dear, as Lady Farrington has been ailing for the past month, and I want to ask after her health.'
'Wait,' Nick demanded. 'Finish what you were going to say!' But Sophia had already glided away with Sir Ross in tow, leaving Nick to seethe in frustration.
When Lottie was released from the duchess's attentions, she took Nick's arm and accompanied him as they mingled with various groups. She was adept at light social conversation, talking amiably without becoming drawn into a lengthy discussion, moving gracefully among the guests and remembering people they had met on previous occasions. It was clear that had Nick wished to leave her while he joined his friends in the smoking and billiards rooms, Lottie would have been perfectly comfortable. However, as Nick saw the number of covetous gazes following his wife's every movement, he remained close beside her, occasionally resting his hand at the small of her back in a territorial gesture that was well understood by every man who saw it.
An ebullient melody filled the air, provided by an orchestra that was carefully concealed by a forest of potted plants in one of the upper balconies. As they made their way through the crowded ballroom, Lottie flirted with Nick discreetly, laying her hand on his chest in provocative little touches, rising to whisper in his ear until her lips brushed his skin. Semi-aroused and thoroughly fascinated, Nick breathed in the scent of white roses from her hair and stood close enough to see the faint dusting of perfumed powder that had collected in the gentle valley between her breasts.
Suddenly Lottie's attention was caught by a small group of women, two of whom were staring at her with obvious excitement. 'Nick, I see some friends that I haven't set eyes on since I was at Maidstone's. I must speak with them-why don't you join your gentlemen friends? You certainly don't want to listen to us gossip about our school days.'
Nick was disgruntled by his wife's clear desire to be rid of him. 'Fine,' he said curtly. 'I'll go to the billiards room.'
Lottie shot him a provocative glance from beneath her lashes. 'Promise you will come find me for the first waltz?'
Realizing that he was being adeptly managed, Nick grumbled an assent and watched Lottie glide toward the group of waiting women. To his astonishment, he stood there feeling completely bereft. He was so mesmerized by one small woman that he could scarcely think straight. He, who was so eternally self-assured, was in danger of being led around by the nose by his own wife.
Brooding over the alarming discovery, Nick heard his brother-in-law's deep voice beside him.
'It happens to the best of us, Sydney.'
Nick turned to face Sir Ross. Uncannily, Sir Ross seemed to understand exactly what he was feeling. His gray eyes gleamed with amusement as he continued in a tone that was not unsympathetic. 'No matter how strong our resolve, we eventually find ourselves enslaved by the compulsive preference for one particular woman. You've been caught, my friend. You may as well reconcile yourself to it.'
Nick did not bother trying to deny it. 'I was going to be so much smarter than you,' he muttered.
Sir Ross grinned. 'I prefer to think that intelligence has nothing to do with it. For if a man's intellect is measured by his ability to remain untouched by love, I would be the greatest idiot alive.'
The wordlove 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
