Beauty and the Brooding Lord

by Sarah Mallory

  She gave him a glittering smile and walked on. This was to be their life from now on. A pretence of happiness.

  The ladies disposed themselves around the elegant drawing room and the Contessa invited Serena to join her on the sofa.

  ‘You do not seem to be at ease, my dear,’ she said, taking Serena’s hand. ‘Are you wishing yourself elsewhere?’

  ‘No, indeed, ma’am. I very much wanted to come this evening.’

  ‘Then perhaps it is your marriage. Ah, I can see by the way you have coloured up that I am right.’ She sighed. ‘I cannot say I blame you.’

  ‘I do not know what you mean,’ Serena replied coldly, pulling her hand free.

  The Contessa was in no way discomposed. She said, ‘Lord Quinn is not easy in society. Why, he said barely a half-dozen words to me during dinner.’

  Serena saw no reason to be polite. ‘I doubt the insipid conversation was to his taste. He has never been one for tittle-tattle.’

  ‘But, my dear, gossip is the most entertaining kind of conversation! Do not tell me your husband is a prig as well as a bore.’

  ‘You must admit, Contessa, he does have a magnificent physique,’ giggled Mrs Medway, overhearing. ‘Does he have a mistress—oh, no need to look like that, Lady Quinn, we are all women of the world here. Of course he does. What rich man does not?’

  Serena wanted to deny it, but jealousy swirled about her like a hot red mist and kept her silent. This could not go on. She could not bear it. She would talk to Quinn, discover the truth, however painful. But for now she could only pray that the subject would soon be dropped.

  The Contessa touched her arm and gave a soft laugh, shaking her head at Mrs Medway. ‘Now, now, Edith, you are putting my daughter to the blush. She and Quinn may still be very much in love.’

  ‘Charming, but quite unfashionable,’ smirked another of the matrons, disposing her skirts more becomingly. ‘However, it will pass, it always does.’

  ‘Not for the Conte and Contessa, apparently,’ remarked Edith Medway. ‘Do tell us your secret, madam.’

  ‘That is easy. Constant amusement, including lovers! Wherever we are we surround ourselves with young people who entertain and divert us.’ She reached up to caress Serena’s face. ‘With your looks I could make you the most sought-after woman in Rome or Paris. How amusing that would be!’ The Contessa laughed. ‘What do you say, Serena, why not quit this dull marriage and come to the Continent with me?’

  Serena blinked, startled.

  ‘I—I am flattered but, but it is quite out of the question.’ Her eyes slid away from the Contessa’s considering look. ‘I c-cannot... I do not wish to leave my husband.’

  ‘No, of course not. No need to colour up so, my love, it was merely an idea.’ The Contessa sent a smiling look around the room. ‘Enough of this. Let us talk of fashion before the gentlemen come in. I saw the most exquisite bonnet in New Bond Street today. A new milliner...’

  Serena would have liked to leave as soon as the gentlemen joined them, but the room had already been cleared for dancing and good manners dictated they remain a little longer. Besides, she would do anything to put off the evil hour when she must talk to Quinn. She pinned on a smile and pretended an enjoyment in the evening that she was far from feeling.

  She danced first with the Conte, then with the elderly roué whose wife was consigned to the pianoforte. After that Lord Fyfield approached, but Quinn cut him out.

  ‘My turn, I think.’

  Serena eyed him warily. She was feeling a little dizzy, which was possibly the wine, for her glass had constantly been refilled throughout the evening. Quinn was not smiling, but she could not make out if he was angry or merely bored.

  She said, a little recklessly, ‘I hope you are not going to scold me, Quinn.’

  ‘No, why should I? You flirt very prettily.’

  She felt a flash of anger, irrational, but too real to be ignored. Did he not care that she had been flirting? The dance separated them, but when she passed him she took her chance.

  ‘Sauce for the goose, my lord!’

  His brows snapped together. ‘What the devil does that mean?’

  They changed partners, skipped and pirouetted their way through the dance until they were facing one another again at the end of the line.

  ‘Are you angry with me, Serena?’

  ‘I suppose I should be grateful for your company tonight. You have had so much business to attend to recently.’

  ‘Yes. But this is not the place to discuss it.’

  Serena knew that. Of course she did, but some demon was prodding at her and before the dance separated them again she sent one last, Parthian shot.

  ‘Oh, no explanations, I pray you. How dull that would be!’

  She saw Quinn’s face darken as she turned away from him for the final movements of the dance and barely had they made their courtesies before he grabbed her hand.

  ‘A word in private, if you please.’

  There was confusion as everyone regrouped for another dance. With the iron grip on her hand Serena could do nothing but accompany Quinn out of the room. He spoke to their host in passing and the Conte’s knowing smile made her blush vividly. In the hall, a footman directed them to a small sitting room, where candles burned and a cheerful fire blazed in the hearth.

  ‘We cannot talk here,’ she objected. ‘What if we are interrupted?’

  ‘We won’t be.’ His voice was scathing. ‘A household like this will have plenty of private little rooms ready for use.’

  ‘But you do not want to make love to me.’

  ‘No, I don’t,’ he growled. ‘I want to know what the devil is wrong with you tonight.’

  Serena panicked. She was not quite sober and she needed all her wits about her when she confronted Quinn about his mistress.

  ‘I am put out, that is all,’ she said. ‘Because you do not like my mother, or her friends.’

  ‘And you do?’

  Not for the world would she agree with him! She said airily, ‘They are most entertaining.’

  ‘Is that what you call entertaining? Gossiping, pulling reputations to shreds, flirting—’

  ‘Hah, now we come down to it, my lord.’

  ‘To what?’

  Again, she retreated, hating her cowardice in not asking him the one question that was eating away at her soul.

  ‘You object to other men taking notice of me.’

  ‘Not at all.’ His mouth twitched. ‘Although I would object to you taking notice of other men.’

  It was an attempt to lighten the mood but she ignored it.

  He said at last, ‘Are you sorry you married me?’

  Yes, if you do not love me and only me.

  When she did not speak his mouth twisted, he said heavily, ‘I am not at ease in society, Serena, you know that. You appear to enjoy it.’

  ‘It is the life I was brought up to expect.’ The words sounded haughty, even though she meant it as an explanation.

  His face darkened and he walked away from her.

  ‘Idleness and indulgence,’ he retorted. ‘I thought you wanted more than that, Serena.’ At the window he stopped and looked back, saying bitterly, ‘Ah, but I was forgetting. You intended to marry a rake.’

  ‘You are not a rake and nothing like one!’

  ‘No, nor do I wish to be.’ He sighed and turned to the window, staring out into the darkness. ‘Perhaps you would be happier with your mother’s set. Parties every night, touring the grand cities of Europe, with as many rakes as your heart desires.’

  ‘Then you should leave me here!’

  It was like watching herself from behind a glass wall. Serena wanted to scream at herself to stop, but instead she could only watch herself parcelling up the happy life she had been building with Quinn and pushing it towards a precipice.


  ‘You should go,’ she said, shaking with hurt and anger. ‘Go away and leave me here with my mother. She has already suggested I go with her when she sails for France next week.’

  ‘Then you must do that,’ he barked, keeping his back to her. ‘If it makes you happy.’

  ‘It cannot make me any more miserable!’ She threw the words at him, wanting only to wound.

  ‘Very well,’ he said, his voice brittle. ‘I shall leave you to enjoy the company of your new friends.’

  ‘You may tell Polly to pack up my things and send them to me.’

  He had reached the door by this time, but her words stopped him and he turned to look at her.

  ‘If that is what you want.’

  She tried to glare at him defiantly, but the mixture of hurt and anger burning in his eyes made her look away.

  ‘No, ’pon reflection, you need not bother,’ she said icily. ‘Pray do not send me anything from Berkeley Square. I shall require far more dashy gowns for living with Mama.’

  For an instant she thought he would pick her up and carry her bodily from the house. Hope flared as she realised just how desperately she wanted him to do that. Instead he nodded silently and went out.

  ‘I will not cry.’ Serena muttered the words to the empty room. ‘I will not cry.’

  Blinking hard, she made her way back to the drawing room, where the Contessa gave her a searching look.

  ‘Lord Quinn has left,’ she said, keeping her head up and her tone cool.

  ‘That is excellent news, cara.’ The Conte took her hand and lifted it to his lips. ‘We shall enjoy ourselves much more without him. Che stupido—he is a man most tedious!’ She felt his hand on her back as he escorted her across the room to the Contessa. ‘Tua madre says you are coming to the Continent with us, no?’

  She was surrounded by eager, inquisitive faces. Mrs Medway and Lord Fyfield would make sure the story would be all over town by the morning and what a titillating piece of gossip it would be. Henry and Dorothea would be scandalised, but that did not worry her. Only the effect on Quinn.

  Suddenly she was no longer trapped behind the glass wall. She knew exactly what she wanted to do. What she wanted to say. Gently but firmly, she freed herself from the Conte’s grasp and addressed her mother, her voice clear and steady.

  ‘No, I am not going with you. You will think me unfashionable, but I love my husband, very much. And if it is not too late, I am going back to fight for my place in his life. If you have any feeling for me at all, Mother, I pray you will order a carriage to take me back to Berkeley Square with all possible speed.’

  Chapter Seventeen

  Quinn had told the driver to make all haste, but his rage was abating long before they had covered the four miles to Berkeley Square. He handed his hat and gloves to Dunnock, ignoring the old retainer’s questioning glance. Time enough for them all to learn that Serena was not coming back.

  It was only a few paces to the drawing room, but it was long enough for a lifetime of thoughts to race through his head. He had lost her and it was only now that he realised how much she meant to him. Over the past months he had watched the fragile, broken creature he had rescued from the inn at Hitchin recover her spirit. He had always known the docile, timid woman he had married was not the real Serena.

  He had never wanted it to be. He wanted the fearless, passionate woman he had seen at their very first meeting, the woman who had ripped up at him, not caring for his wealth or rank. She had faced him as an equal, even though she barely reached his shoulder!

  He had always known such a vibrant, pleasure-loving creature might not be satisfied with his quiet way of living. He had thought that once she had recovered her confidence he would go back to his books and his estates and they would live their separate lives. There was nothing unusual in that. He had thought himself prepared for it. Looking forward to it, in fact. Until tonight, when he had seen the old Serena, beautiful, alluring, irresistible, and he had discovered he could not bear to live without her.

  The silence in the drawing room pressed in on him. He paced up and down, going over the events of the evening. He should not have lost his temper. Serena, too, had been in a rage, although at the time he had not seen that. He raked a hand through his hair. He had promised to look after her. He should not have left Serena at Kilborn House. Whatever she decided to do, he should not have abandoned her in such company.

  Quinn glanced at the clock, then dashed out to the hall and past the astonished butler. He had been home barely ten minutes. If he ran to the mews he might be in time. They might not yet have unharnessed the team.

  As he wrenched open the front door, the postillions of a travelling chariot were bringing the four sweating horses to a plunging halt outside the house. He stopped in the doorway, blinking to make sure he was not dreaming, but there was no mistaking the golden-haired beauty who stepped out of the carriage. She did not see him until she had hurried up the steps, then she stopped, uncertainty in her face.

  ‘Quinn. I—’

  ‘Not here.’ He reached out for her hand. Gently, as if she would break. The initial soaring relief and elation he had felt had subsided a little, for the travelling chariot had not driven away. She was not yet his. She might never be. Silently he escorted her to the drawing room.

  Once the door was closed, Quinn turned to look at her.

  ‘You came back.’

  ‘For the moment.’ Her eyes were dark and troubled. ‘There are things we must discuss. They will not wait.’

  He said, clutching at the only straw he could find, ‘If it is the thought of meeting Forsbrook in town that has made you want to leave, you may be easy—’

  ‘Sir Timothy?’ She looked faintly surprised. ‘No, he no longer concerns me, but in any case, Lord Fyfield told me tonight that he has fled the country. No one knows the whole story, but it would appear the wealthy widow gave him his congé. I am relieved for Mrs Hopwood,’ she added. ‘I would not want to see her tied to such a man. I would not wish anyone to be condemned to an unhappy marriage.’ Her eyes flickered towards him again. ‘That is what we must discuss.’

  Quinn said nothing. He squared his shoulders and waited for the blow to fall.

  * * *

  Serena moved restlessly about the room and drew off her gloves. She must choose her words with care.

  ‘I am not leaving England with my mother. I have no wish to join her set.’

  ‘Then why is her carriage still at the door?’

  ‘In case I have to leave this house tonight.’

  ‘Are you afraid of me?’

  ‘You know I am not! I owe you such a great deal, Quinn. Even my life, I think. Perhaps we should never have married, but it is done and cannot easily be undone. We may not be able to live together, but I have no wish to disgrace you more than I have already. I thought, perhaps, you might put one of your properties at my disposal. Somewhere remote, where I might live quietly and cause no more scandal.’

  ‘Wait.’ He stopped her, frowning. ‘Why can we not live together?’

  She took another turn about the room, fighting the urge to burst into tears.

  ‘I thought I could do this, Quinn. I thought I could live with you, share your world, to help you with your estates, your people.’ She stopped, knowing what must be said, and forced herself to look at him. ‘I have fallen in love with you, Quinn. I know now that I cannot share you. If I cannot have you to myself, then I prefer to retire to the country and, and n-never see you again.’

  He straightened, as if a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

  ‘There is no one else, Serena.’

  He reached for her but she held him off.

  ‘Truly?’ She looked up, her eyes searching his face. ‘Do you not have a mistress?’

  ‘No. I never have. Oh, I admit, after Barbara died there were others, but not r
ecently. And certainly not since I found you.’ He smiled. ‘I did not know it until tonight, when you sent me away, but you have my heart, Serena. All of it. The thought of living without you is intolerable.’

  She swallowed. ‘But... Barbara?’

  ‘I loved her, very much. She was my friend and my first love, and I will never forget her. But there is room for another in my heart, Serena. One last and enduring love.’

  She shook her head at him. ‘Quinn, I have tried to be a conformable wife—’

  He put his fingers to her lips, silencing her.

  ‘That is not what I want, my darling. I want the real Serena, the lady who will stand up to me, argue with me if she thinks I am wrong. I fear we will have battles royal, but is that not better than a life spent constantly in calm waters?’ He smiled, his burning gaze turning her very bones to water. ‘I love you, Serena. I love you for your warmth, your spirit, your courage, and if you will stay with me I shall do my utmost to prove it for the rest of our lives.’

  ‘Oh, Quinn!’

  He stifled the words with a kiss, swift, hard and impatient. Serena responded, but after a moment, and with a supreme effort, she pushed him away. She wanted to believe him. She wanted it so much that her heart ached, but she had to be sure.

  ‘I have to know, Quinn. I f-found several bills and receipts in your desk...’

  ‘Ah.’ His brow cleared. ‘Perhaps we should sit down.’

  She allowed him to pull her down beside him on the sofa, but he had done nothing to ease her anxiety and she said impatiently, ‘Explain to me, if you please!’

  He grinned. ‘Those, my dear, are the consequence of a highly improper deception I agreed with your half-brother Russington.’

  ‘Then, you do not have a mistress in Devonshire Place?’

  He lifted her on to his lap. ‘Why would I want a mistress when I have you?’ He kissed her. ‘No. I set up the glorious Mrs Hopwood.’

  ‘Sir Timothy’s rich widow!’ Relief flooded through her and a laugh bubbled up. ‘So she was never in danger of being duped.’ She sighed. ‘And you planned it all for my sake?’