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been flushed from its burrow.  Has he already paid you for finding me? What will you do with the
money?
 I ll return it to him.
 What about my family? she whispered apologetically.  Might something be done for them? Lord
Radnor will withdraw his patronage& 
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Gentry nodded.  I had already considered that. Of course I will take care of them.
Lottie hardly dared to believe her ears. It was asking a great deal of any man to support his wife s entire
family, and yet Gentry seemed to accept the burden without apparent resentment.  Thank you, she said,
nearly breathless with sudden relief.  That is kind of you.
 I can be very kind, he replied softly,  given the right incentive.
Lottie stood still as he fingered her earlobe and stroked the hollow just behind it. A rush of heat spread
over her face& such a small, almost innocuous caress, and yet he had found a place so susceptible that
she gasped at the brush of his fingertip. He bent his head to kiss her, but she turned her face away. He
could have anything he wanted of her, except that. To her, a kiss held a meaning beyond the physical,
and she did not want to give that part of herself to him.
His lips touched her cheek instead, and she felt the warm curve of his smile. Once again, he showed an
uncanny ability to read her thoughts.  What can I do to earn a kiss from you?
 Nothing.
His mouth slid lightly over the edge of her cheekbone.  We ll see about that.
To most people, the dingy, well-worn Bow Street public office, smelling of sweat, brass polish, and
charge-books, was not an inviting place. But during the past three years, Nick had become so familiar
with every inch of the office that it felt like home. An outside visitor would be hard-pressed to believe that
the small, unassuming buildings Bow Street Nos. 3 and 4 were the center of criminal investigation in
England. Here was where Sir Grant Morgan held court and directed the force of eight runners under his
command.
Wearing a relaxed smile, Nick returned the greetings of clerks and constables as he made his way
through No. 3 Bow Street. It had not taken long for the force at Bow Street to appreciate his finer
points, most particularly his willingness to go to the rookeries and flash houses that no one else dared to
venture into. He didn t mind taking the most dangerous assignments, as he had no family of his own to
consider, and he wasn t particular in any case. In fact, through some quirk of his character that even Nick
didn t understand, he required a frequent amount of risk, as if danger were an addictive drug that he had
no hope of renouncing. The past two months of tame investigative work had filled him with a raw energy
that he could barely contain.
Reaching Morgan s office, Nick looked askance at the main court clerk, Vickery, who gave him an
encouraging nod.  Sir Grant has not yet gone to morning sessions, Mr. Gentry. I am certain that he will
wish to see you.
Nick knocked on the door and heard Morgan s rumbling voice.  Come in.
As massive as the battered mahogany desk was, it appeared like a piece of children s furniture
compared to the size of the man who sat behind it. Sir Grant Morgan was a spectacularly large man, at
least five inches taller than Nick s own height of six feet. Although Morgan was fast approaching the age
of forty, no hint of silver had yet appeared in his short black hair, and his distinctive vitality had not faded
since the days that he himself had served as a Bow Street runner. As well as having been the most
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accomplished runner of his day, Morgan was easily the most popular, as he had once been the subject of
a string of best-selling ha penny novels. Before Morgan, the government and the public had regarded the
entire Bow Street force with the innate British suspicion toward any form of organized law enforcement. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]