Beauty and the Brooding Lord

by Sarah Mallory

  Chapter Fifteen

  As instructed, Quinn’s driver turned the closed carriage into Devonshire Place and brought it to a halt a few yards along, from where Quinn had a good view of an elegant town house with its black-painted door, iron railings and ornate wrought-iron balcony on the first floor. He glanced at his watch. Ten thirty.

  He looked up as another carriage rattled into the street, a hackney, which stopped outside the house. The cab drew away and Quinn watched a fashionably dressed gentleman run up the steps and into the house. Quinn picked up his hat and fixed it firmly on his head, then he waited a full five minutes before jumping down from the carriage and, after a brief word with his driver, he made his way towards the black door.

  The manservant who admitted him answered Quinn’s questioning glance with no more than a nod. Silently Quinn handed him his hat and cane then lightly ran up the stairs to the drawing room. There was only one person present, the fashionable buck who had preceded Quinn into the house. He was standing by the window, staring out, an open letter dangling from one hand.

  ‘So, she is gone.’

  Sir Timothy Forsbrook swung round.

  ‘You!’ He waved the paper. ‘Are you behind this?’

  ‘You have been duped, I presume.’ Quinn ignored the question and stripped off his gloves, dropping them on to the small dining table in the centre of the room.

  ‘You know damn well I have.’

  Forsbrook’s voice shook and Quinn noted that his usually florid face was very pale.

  ‘Actually, I know very little. Why don’t you tell me?’

  ‘That high-flyer tricked me finely, the bitch!’

  Quinn walked over to the side table and poured out a glass of brandy.

  ‘Here, sit down and drink this.’ For a moment he thought Forsbrook would knock it from his hand, but after an inward struggle he snatched the glass and tossed the contents into his mouth. Quinn took the glass. ‘Sit down,’ he barked again, waiting until Forsbrook had complied before turning to refill the glass and then pouring a brandy for himself.

  As Quinn returned to the table Forsbrook looked up at him.

  ‘Did she dupe you as well?’

  ‘On the contrary.’

  Forsbrook’s face contorted and he swore viciously. ‘I knew it. The moment I saw you here I knew you were behind this.’

  ‘I am sure you did,’ replied Quinn unmoved. ‘The thing is, what are you going to do about it?’

  ‘Devil take you, what can I do? If I don’t show at Tattersall’s and settle my account...’ He trailed off, his hand grasping the brandy glass until the knuckles glowed white. Then with another curse he pushed himself to his feet. ‘But you will meet me for this, Lord Quinn—’

  ‘Oh, I don’t think so, Forsbrook. I have a much better plan for you. One that will allow you to pay your debts of honour, at least.’

  Quinn sipped his brandy, seemingly relaxed but alert, should Forsbrook attack, which the murderous look on his bewhiskered face indicated he would like to do. A minute went by. Quinn was aware of the noises from the street, the rattling of a carriage over the cobbles, dogs barking, the shout of a hawker crying his wares. At last Forsbrook lowered himself back into his chair.

  ‘You have no idea how much I owe.’

  ‘Tell me,’ Quinn invited him cordially. ‘I should imagine your debts are extensive.’

  ‘They are.’ Forsbrook emptied his glass, went over to pick up the decanter and brought it back to the table. ‘That damned whore gave me to believe she was sweet on me. She was dressed like a swell and very free with her blunt. By Gad, I’d never seen so many jewels on a woman and all of ’em real, I swear.’

  ‘Oh, they were,’ murmured Quinn, but Forsbrook did not hear him.

  ‘Naturally, I had to keep up with her. She was determined to be seen about town, too.’ He threw another venomous look at Quinn. ‘No doubt that was your plan, to provide fodder for the town tabbies. Well, it worked. They were scandalised. There was no hiding her inferior breeding, but I did not think that would matter overmuch to me. She might be as common as the hedge but once we were married I planned to set her up in a snug country manor and come to town without her.’

  ‘Chivalrous.’

  ‘Well, what do you expect? I knew I would be marrying beneath me, but we are not all of us born with a fortune!’

  ‘So you did not tell her you were already living on the edge?’

  ‘Of course not. She was very generous, so how could I be otherwise? Whenever she asked me to purchase some little trifle or go to Tattersall’s subscription room and place a wager on a horse she favoured, how could I refuse? And she always paid up, next time we met. And at the card parties...’ He shook his head. ‘She would ask me to stake her, if she had not brought sufficient funds, but more often than not she won it all back that same evening.’ He reached for the decanter and slopped more brandy into his glass. ‘We’d talked about marriage. She didn’t want a fuss, said her people might not understand about her marrying out of her own sphere. She asked if I could obtain a special licence, even gave me the blunt to cover it there and then!’ He dropped his head in his hands. ‘I arranged the whole for this morning...’

  Quinn’s lip curled. ‘And no doubt you were going to take your blushing bride direct from the ceremony to Tattersall’s.’

  ‘No, damn you, it wasn’t like that! I admit much of what I owe at Tattersall’s is to cover bets placed—mine and hers!—but almost half of it is for those damned nags of hers. She wanted to set up her stable and asked me to buy the cattle for her. The first team didn’t suit, so last week she asked me to purchase her another. Prime goers and damned expensive, too. What could I say? She told me she would have the money here for me today. And after that I was going to settle all my obligations. I would be home free.’

  ‘Instead of which you face ruin. And worse,’ said Quinn softly, ‘disgrace.’

  Forsbrook glared at him, hatred bright in his eyes, but behind that something else. Fear. He thought little of his fellow man—even less of women—but he set great store by his own standing. Gambling losses were debts of honour and if Forsbrook could not pay them, he was finished. Quinn was unmoved. It suited his purpose very well that the fellow considered himself at point non plus.

  He said now, ‘What sum would you need to clear your debts?’

  Forsbrook slumped in his chair. ‘It will take nothing less than eight, nine thousand pounds. How am I to come by such a sum without surety?’

  ‘I will give you ten thousand pounds.’ Forsbrook’s head came up, hope and suspicion warring in his face. Quinn continued, ‘I shall, of course require you to fulfil certain conditions.’

  ‘Go on.’

  Quinn fetched pens and ink from the writing desk, then he went back and pulled a thick sheaf of documents from the drawer and placed them on the table before Forsbrook.

  ‘First, you will sign these letters for publication by the main London newspapers, to wit, the Gazette, the Morning Chronicle, The Times and the Morning Post. You need only read one—they are all identical.’

  ‘You have gone to a great deal of effort for this,’ sneered Sir Timothy. ‘You must have been very sure of me.’

  ‘Read it,’ ordered Quinn. ‘I will not have you say afterwards you did not know what you were signing.’

  He watched as Forsbrook’s eyes skimmed the neat lines.

  ‘You would have your wife exonerated from all blame and at the expense of my good name.’

  Quinn shrugged. ‘We both know this is a man’s world. Society will not think much worse of you for admitting you abducted an heiress.’ He watched as Forsbrook scrawled his name on each copy of the letter. ‘Your being duped by the woman calling herself Mrs Hopwood will do far more harm to your reputation.’

  ‘I am aware of that.’ Quinn heard the unmistakable sound of grinding teet
h. ‘I shall be obliged to remove myself from town for a while.’

  ‘Which brings us neatly to the next condition.’ Quinn moved the letters out of the way and replaced them with two more sheets. ‘I will grant you the sum of ten thousand pounds, on the understanding that you quit England for the next five years, and never—mark my words, Forsbrook—never come near Lady Quinn or her family again. If you break either of these conditions, I shall serve a writ upon you for the repayment of this sum and pursue you mercilessly for it.’

  ‘Leave England!’ Sir Timothy sat back, his face suffused with anger. ‘And what the devil am I to do for the next five years?’

  ‘I neither know nor care. There is a chaise waiting at the Golden Cross to take you to Dover and thence to France. We are no longer at war, so you may travel the Continent, as many of our compatriots are doing.’

  ‘Preposterous,’ Sir Timothy blustered. ‘I shall do no such thing.’ He waved an accusing finger at Quinn as he folded each of the letters and placed them safely inside his coat. ‘And do not think I shall allow those letters to be published without challenge. I shall refute them. I shall say you coerced me.’

  ‘Then I shall be obliged to call you out,’ retorted Quinn. ‘Believe me, I should like nothing better than to put a bullet through you.’ He paused another moment, then reached out for the agreement. ‘Very well. If you are not minded to take up my offer...’

  ‘No.’

  Forsbrook stopped him and Quinn drew back, waiting. Forsbrook looked about the room, as if hoping the rich widow would appear suddenly and tell him it had all been a joke designed to tease him. At last he sighed and picked up the pen.

  ‘Very well, since I have no choice.’

  * * *

  It took most of the day to settle Sir Timothy’s affairs and the clock was striking ten when Quinn finally brought him to the Golden Cross.

  ‘Damn it all, Quinn, there is no need for you to come with me like a blasted gaoler,’ Forsbrook exclaimed wrathfully. ‘We are agreed I will leave the country. Confound it, you heard me tell my landlady to have my things packed up and sent after me.’

  ‘You are a slippery customer, Forsbrook, and I shall not be content until I have word you are safely in France.’ He watched Sir Timothy throw his portmanteau into the chaise. ‘You know the consequences of breaking our agreement.’

  ‘Aye, I know it, damn you. By heaven, Quinn, this has cost you a pretty penny! I hope she is worth it.’

  ‘Oh, I think so.’

  Quinn pushed him into the coach and closed the door. Forsbrook leaned out of the open window.

  ‘You are a fool, if you think you can keep her, Quinn,’ he declared. ‘Her family has always courted scandal and Serena Russington is no different. A beautiful pleasure-seeker.’ His last, sneering words stayed with Quinn as the chaise drove out through the arch. ‘A man such as you will never hold her!’

  * * *

  As his coach rattled towards Berkeley Square, Quinn leaned back in the corner, gazing out at the dark streets. He was dog-tired, but satisfied with his day’s work, and he looked forward to telling Serena all about it. Serena. Just the thought of her revived him and when he reached the house he sprang out and hurried to the drawing room. It was empty and he went back to the hall, looking for Dunnock. Serena’s maid was about to disappear into the nether regions of the house and he called to her.

  ‘Is your mistress in her bedchamber?’

  Polly turned and took a couple of steps towards him before bobbing a curtsy.

  ‘She is gone to Lady Yatesbury’s, my lord.’ She observed Quinn’s frown and twisted her hands together. ‘A new gown was delivered and my lady said ’twould be a pity not to wear it out.’

  Quinn dismissed the maid and went upstairs. When they had spoken at breakfast, Serena had not seemed eager to go out. In fact, she had told him she would not go. Yet she had changed her mind, just because her new gown had arrived. As he strode to his bedchamber, Forsbrook’s words floated back to him.

  A man such as you will never hold her.

  * * *

  Serena’s head ached from the noise and chatter in Lady Yatesbury’s overcrowded, overheated rooms. In truth, she wished she had not come, but when she had discovered that Mrs Bell had sent round her new evening gown, the angry rebellion simmering beneath her despair had erupted. Why should she remain in Berkeley Square, lonely and lachrymose, when Quinn was out who knew where, enjoying himself?

  Some part of her, the dutiful wife she had tried to become, argued that she had no right to object if Quinn had a mistress. She should be grateful for all he had done for her. But the truth was that Serena did not feel grateful. She felt...jealous. Jealous of this unknown woman upon whom Quinn had spent a small fortune. She had donned Mrs Bell’s white and silver gauze creation and set off for Lady Yatesbury’s rout in a mood that could only be described as high dudgeon.

  Serena took a surreptitious peek at the mantel clock and her heart sank. It was not yet eleven. To leave so soon would give rise to comment, but to remain, when it was an effort to raise a smile, was unthinkable. She would seek out her hostess, make her apologies and slip away with as little fuss as possible.

  Lady Yatesbury was by the door, greeting two late arrivals. They made a striking couple, the gentleman tall and dark, with pomaded black curls and thick whiskers, his lilac coat heavily laced, and while Serena could only see the back of the lady, is was clear that her scarlet gown was heavily embroidered with gold thread. Fixed into her fair curls she had two bejewelled combs that matched the sapphires and diamonds around her neck. It could not be better, thought Serena. The appearance of such an ostentatious pair would mean her own absence would barely be noticed.

  Serena drew closer and hovered, waiting for the newcomers to move away so that she could take her leave of her hostess, but Lady Yatesbury appeared to be in no hurry. She was waving her fan and blushing at something the gentleman was saying to her. Then she caught sight of Serena and called to her.

  ‘Lady Quinn, well, how fortunate! Come closer, my dear, do.’

  The lady in the scarlet gown turned and as Serena approached she found herself staring at a face that looked strangely familiar.

  The lady held out her hands, beaming. ‘My darling girl. Have you a kiss for your mama?’

  Chapter Sixteen

  Serena’s world rocked. There could be no doubt. The petite frame, the chocolate-dark eyes and guinea-gold curls—it was like looking in a mirror. True, the face was a little more lined than Serena’s, but the woman was still beautiful and when she spoke her voice was soft, musical and full of warmth.

  ‘You must let me present my Eduardo to you, my love. Conte Ragussina.’ She gave a tinkling laugh. ‘I suppose he is your step-papa, now.’

  The Conte made a flourishing bow and picked up Serena’s nerveless hand.

  ‘But I beg my Lady Quinn will call me Eduardo,’ he crooned, kissing her fingers.

  Serena gently withdrew her hand, murmuring something incoherent in reply.

  ‘So, it is true,’ marvelled Lady Yatesbury, looking from Serena to the Contessa. ‘You had no idea you would meet here tonight?’

  ‘None at all,’ purred the Contessa, ‘I had written to advise of my return to England, but one knows how easily letters go astray.’

  ‘Indeed, indeed,’ cried their hostess. ‘And for this happy reunion to happen in my house!’ She clasped her hands in delight and Serena could imagine how the tale would have spread by the morning. ‘But you will wish to talk privately with your daughter, Contessa. I shall take you to my boudoir on the next floor. You will not be disturbed there, I assure you.’

  ‘Yes, yes, we must talk.’ The Contessa slipped one hand through Serena’s arm and waved the other imperiously at her husband. ‘Caro mio, you must go away and enjoy yourself while Serena and I become acquainted again.’

  I
n a daze Serena allowed herself to be carried away from the overcrowded reception rooms and up the stairs to a comfortable little sitting room decorated in shades of powder blue. The Contessa Ragussina sank down gracefully on to a sofa and patted the seat beside her.

  ‘Come, my dear, I will not bite, I promise you. How long is it, seven, eight years?

  ‘Twelve,’ replied Serena coolly, choosing a small chair opposite the sofa. ‘I was but eight years old when you left me.’

  A shadow of something that might have been guilt flickered across the Contessa’s features.

  ‘Ah, do not hate me for that, my darling. What was I to do? I knew your brother would never allow me to take you and I would be the first to acknowledge that the life Eduardo and I lived would hardly have been suitable for a little girl.’

  ‘You have no other children, madam?’

  ‘Good heavens, no. One was quite enough.’ She gasped and put her hands to her mouth. ‘Oh, my darling, pray do not think I did not want you. Nothing could be further from the truth, but I had such a horrid time of it, you see, and children are quite disastrous for one’s figure, as you will discover soon enough, for you are married now. Lady Quinn. Well, I declare! And I am quite, quite furious with Hambridge for not informing me.’

  ‘Oh?’ Serena’s brows went up. ‘Does Henry correspond with you?’

  ‘He does not, but he should. The Conte’s avvocati have written to him upon occasion, so he cannot say he does not know how to contact me. Neither did he inform me of Russington’s nuptials. I learned of that and of your own good fortune when I reached London. We have been here, what, four weeks now.’ She made a little moue of distaste. ‘I had forgotten how cold and miserable it is. We came at the invitation of the Hollands, you see, but it would not do to impose upon Lord and Lady Holland for too long so we have hired Kilborn House, near Hampstead. I know it is a little out of town, but it was the only house big enough for us to entertain in any style.’