"That your former lover is here? Yes, I know."

"How could you?" she asked in astonishment. "I've never told you his full name."

"I saw your face when he spoke to you." Ross smiled reassuringly. "It's all right. Lyndhurst can't harm you, Sophia. You're mine now."

Slowly she relaxed in his hold, acutely relieved that there would be no explosions of jealousy and no bitter accusations. What an extraordinary man Ross was, she thought with a rush of love. So many other men would have scorned her for her lack of virginity and regarded her as soiled goods. But Ross had always treated her with respect. "You mustn't refer to Anthony as my lover," she chided softly. "He gave me only pain and shame.You are the only lover I've ever had."

He bent his head and kissed her temple. "Don't worry, my sweet. He won't trouble you again. In fact, I suspect he has left the ball precipitately."

Something in his tone made her wonder if he had actually approached Anthony. "Ross," she said suspiciously, "about this 'rodent' you disposed of--"

"The opening march is beginning," he interrupted, pulling her with him to the mass of whirling couples.

"Yes, but did you--"

"Come--it is our responsibility to lead."

As Ross had intended, Sophia was distracted. "I'm not certain I can," she said. "I've seen the march a few times, but I've never had the opportunity to try it."

"It's very simple," he murmured, drawing her hand into the crook of his arm. "Just follow my lead."

Although their hands were gloved, Sophia felt a thrill at the pressure of his fingers. She looked up at his dark face and said with a sudden throb in her voice, "I would follow you anywhere."

Ross's thick lashes veiled his smoky eyes. She sensed his rampant desire to be alone with her. "Three hours," he said, speaking as if to himself.

"What?" she asked.

"Three hours until midnight. Then you will go upstairs, and I will follow soon after."

"Oh. Isn't that rather too early to retire from a ball such as this? I suspect some of the couples will be dancing until dawn."

"We won't be one of them," he said firmly, escorting her to the drawing room. "I can think of a much better way to spend the rest of the evening."

"Sleeping?" she said with false innocence.

Ross bent to whisper his alternative, and grinned as a wild blush rose in her face.

CHAPTER 16

Ross could barely contain his annoyance upon their return to Bow Street, when all half-dozen runners gathered to congratulate him on his nuptials. The runners loudly insisted on their rights to "kiss the bride," and one after another, they bent over Sophia in a manner that was far more brotherly than amorous. However, Ross was scowling by the time he retrieved his giggling wife. He gave them all a warning stare. "Attend to your duties now."

Grumbling good-naturedly, the runners filed out of Bow Street No. 4, but not before Eddie Sayer beseeched Sophia, "Do what you can to soften his temper. You're our only hope, milady."

Laughing, Sophia threw her arms around Ross's neck and kissed his stern mouth. "There--will that serve to soften you?"

A reluctant grin curved his lips, and he kissed her possessively. "I'm afraid it's having the opposite effect. But don't stop."

She gave him a provocative glance from beneath her lashes. "No more until this evening. You have work to do."

"Morgan will take care of it. I'll only stay long enough to attend to a few minor concerns, and then you and I are going on an errand."

"What kind of errand?" She sighed as he kissed the side of her throat, his lips traveling in a leisurely path up to her ear.

"We are going to look at something."

"Something large or small?"

"Large." He nibbled at a sensitive place on her neck. "Quite large."

"What kind of--" she began, but he silenced her with a thorough kiss.

"No more questions. Be ready to leave in an hour."

Although Sophia had expected him to be delayed by work, Ross returned for her in precisely an hour and escorted her to their carriage. She pestered him with questions, but he was maddeningly taciturn, refusing to give any hint about the nature of the mysterious errand. As the carriage traveled westward, Sophia lifted a corner of the sheer panel that covered the window and watched the scenery outside. They passed spectacular arcades and markets where luxury goods were sold, including haberdashers, goldsmiths, button-makers, perfumers, and even a feather shop bearing the intriguing title of "Plumassier."

As this was an area of London that Sophia had never visited before, she was fascinated by the masses of beautifully dressed people promenading through it.

Ladies and gentlemen of distinction visited the confectioner's to eat ices, strolled through tea gardens, or stood at the window of a print shop to view racks of decorative cards. It was a world far removed from Bow Street, and yet it was located only a short distance away.

The carriage conveyed them to Mayfair, the most fashionable location in London, where great family mansions were built in rows. They stopped in Berkeley Square, before a classically designed, triple-pedimented house. The large plate-glass windows gave the white stone facade a feeling of lightness and grandeur at the same time. One footman opened the carriage door and put down a movable step for Sophia. The other footman received a set of keys from Ross and dashed up the front steps.

"Are we visiting someone?" Sophia asked, staring admiringly at the house.

"Not precisely." Ross placed a hand at the small of her back and guided her up to the main entrance. "This house is owned by Lord Cobham, a contemporary of my grandfather's. He resides at his county seat and has decided to rent this place, as it remains unused most of the time."

"Why are we here?" She entered the cool marble hall, which was devoid of furniture or artwork. Rich blue lapis columns and doorcases contrasted crisply with the gleaming white walls.

Ross joined her, gazing upward at the gilded fretwork on the twenty-foot-high ceiling. "I thought that if this place pleases you, we might live here until our own house is built." He looked vaguely apologetic as he added, "It is unfurnished because Cobham took most of the family heirlooms with him to the country. If we take it, you will have to decorate it."

Sophia could not reply, only stared at her surroundings in amazement.

When it became clear that no immediate comment was forthcoming, Ross spoke matter-of-factly. "If you don't like the house, you have only to say so. There are other residences to consider."

"No, no," Sophia said breathlessly. "Of course I like it. How could anyone not approve? It's just that you have caught me off guard. I...I thought we were going to live at Bow Street."

He looked both appalled and amused by the idea. "God forbid. No wife of mine will take up residence at the public office. A place like this is more fitting, not to mention comfortable."

"It's very grand," Sophia commented doubtfully, thinking privately that the word "comfortable" would be more accurately applied to a cozy cottage or a small town house. "Ross," she said carefully, "if you spend all your time working at Bow Street, I do not think I would like to be alone in such a large place. Perhaps we could find some nice terrace on King Street--"

"You're not going to be alone." His eyes lit with amusement. "I've given enough of my life to Bow Street. I'm going to refashion the public office so that it can function without me. Then I'll recommend Morgan as the next Chief Magistrate, and step down for good."

"But what would you do?" Sophia asked in dawning worry, knowing that he was too active to settle into a life of gentlemanly indolence. "I have more than a few reformist causes to occupy my time, and I need to take a stronger hand in running the Silverhill estate. I also plan to buy a part interest in a new railway company in Stockton, though God knows my mother will have apoplexy at such mercantile pursuits." He reached out and pulled her so close that her skirts swished around his legs and feet. His dark head lowered until their noses were almost touching. "But most of all," he murmured, "I want to be with you. I've waited long enough for this, and, by God, I'm going to enjoy it."

Sophia stood on her toes, brushing her lips against his. Before Ross could intensify the kiss, she drew back and regarded him with a saucy smile. "Show me the rest of the house," she said.

The house was unexpectedly charming, many of the rooms shaped with rounded ends and fitted with niches and built-in bookshelves. The delicate pastel walls were framed with white molding, some panels filled with the fanciful shapes of winged gryphons and other mythical beasts. Fireplaces were made of carved marble, and the floors were covered with thick-piled French carpets. Here and there an odd piece of furniture had been left: a bow-fronted chest in one room, a japanned screen in another. In a back room on the second floor, Sophia discovered an intriguing oddity, something that resembled a chair but had been constructed in a queer fashion.

"What is this?" she asked, walking around the piece, and Ross laughed.

"A chamber horse. It has been years since I've seen one of these. Not since boyhood, actually."

"What is it used for?"

"Exercise. My grandfather had one. He claimed that it strengthened his legs and slimmed his waist whenever he had indulged a bit too often."

She regarded him skeptically. "How is it possible to exercise on a chair?"