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Beholding the pair, one so fair, one so dark, and yet both so similar in their striking attractiveness, Lottie
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smiled. She turned to Sir Ross and carefully rested her sore hand on his shoulder as they began to waltz.
As might have been expected, he was an excellent dancer, self-assured and easy to follow.
Feeling a mixture of liking and gratitude, Lottie studied his severely handsome face. You ve done this to
save him, haven t you? she asked.
I don t know that it will, Sir Ross said quietly.
The words sent a fearful pang through her. Did he mean that he still believed Nick was in some kind of
peril? But Nick was no longer a Bow Street runner he had been removed from the hazards that his
profession had entailed. He was safe now& unless Sir Ross was implying that the greatest danger to
Nick came from somewhere inside himself.
* * *
In the days following the public revelation of Nick s identity, the house on Betterton was under siege
from callers. Mrs. Trench spoke to everyone from Nick s old underworld cohorts to representatives of
the queen. Cards and invitations were brought to the front door until the silver tray on the entrance hall
table was laden with a mountain of paper. Periodicals dubbed him the reluctant viscount, recounting his
heroism as a former Bow Street runner. As reporters followed the lead that Sir Ross had established,
Nick was generally depicted as a selfless champion of the public who would have modestly preferred to
serve his common man rather than accept his long-dormant title. To Lottie s amusement, Nick was
outraged by his new public image, for no one seemed to regard him as dangerous any longer. Strangers
approached him eagerly, no longer intimidated by his air of subtle menace. For a man who was so
intensely private, it was nearly intolerable.
Before long, their interest in you will fade, Lottie said in consolation after Nick had to push through an
admiring throng to reach his own front door.
Harried and scowling, Nick shed his coat and flopped onto the parlor settee, his long legs spread
carelessly. It won t be soon enough. He glared at the ceiling. This place is too damned accessible. We
need a house with a private drive and a tall fence.
We have received more than a few invitations to visit friends in the country. Lottie came beside him
and sank to the carpeted floor, the skirts of her printed muslin skirts billowing around her. Their faces
were nearly level as Nick reclined on the arm of the low-backed settee. Even one from Westcliff, asking
if we would stay a fortnight or so at Stony Cross Park.
Nick s face darkened. No doubt the earl wants to assure himself that you re not being maltreated by
your husband from hell.
Lottie couldn t help laughing. You must admit that you were not at your most charming then.
Nick caught at her fingers as she reached over to loosen his necktie. I wanted you too badly to bother
with charm. The pad of his thumb stroked over the smooth tips of her fingernails.
You implied that I was interchangeable with any other woman, she chided.
In the past I learned that the best way to get something I wanted was to pretend that I didn t want it.
Lottie shook her head, perplexed. That makes no sense at all.
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Smiling, Nick released her hand and toyed with the lace edge of her scooped neckline. It worked, he
pointed out.
With their faces close together and his vivid blue eyes staring into hers, Lottie felt a blush climbing her
face. You were very wicked that night.
His fingertip eased into the shallow valley between her breasts. Not nearly as wicked as I wanted to
be&
The sound of the front door being soundly rapped echoed through the entrance hall and drifted into the
parlor. Withdrawing his hand, Nick listened as Mrs. Trench went to answer the door, telling the visitor
that neither Lord Sydney nor his wife was receiving callers.
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