“So, I asked after his family,” Robert continued, “and he mentioned that his sister had been in London—which of course we already knew—and that there’d been some sort of to-do, so she made a quick departure back home.”
Quinn leaned forward, staring down this brother. “A to-do? What to-do?”
Robert frowned. “I didn’t ask.”
When Quinn shot to his feet again, Robert added, “I didn’t feel it was polite to beg for details.”
Quinn tugged at his cravat and paced back toward his credenza.
“Look at it this way,” Robert said, his voice falsely cheerful. “Miss Humphreys is back in the country, and you know just where to find her.”
Quinn whirled to face his brother, ready to spit out his next angry thoughts, but then he paused. He did know where she lived—at least the general location. How many estates could there be in such a small town?
He couldn’t help but wonder what she was doing. Was she furious with him? Disappointed? Would she even see him if he called on her at her home? Had the to-do been a result of their shared evening at the Anderson ball? Or something else he wasn’t aware of?
It was only a few hours’ ride from here. Wait. What was he thinking?
A chuckle sounded from Robert’s direction. “You don’t need my blessing. Although you still need to take on the task of convincing Mother that Miss Humphreys is up to the role of becoming the next Lady Kenworth.”
Robert seemed to think Quinn was going to ride straight to Harpshire and propose this afternoon. Quinn scoffed. “Mother doesn’t even know about Miss Humphreys. Besides, I’m not sure Miss Humphreys will have me, considering the way I’ve neglected her.”
“You don’t know, then?” Robert asked, setting down his glass.
“Know what?” Quinn said, not liking the knot that was growing in his stomach.
Robert let his head fall back against the chair and closed his eyes as he released a groan. “About Mother’s visit to Miss Humphreys’s residence in London.”
Quinn went very still. “What visit?”
Robert opened an eye. “That night . . . after the Anderson ball at Grosvenor Square . . . Mother went to speak with Miss Humphreys personally. Mother told me about it the next day at supper, but you weren’t there of course. You were in such a hurry to get back to this place.” Robert waved a limp hand. “I suppose that’s why I truly delayed visiting and inquiring after her—I feared I’d be thrown out on my ear by Miss Humphreys’s formidable aunt.”
Quinn crossed the room until he was standing before Robert. “What did Mother say?”
“I’m sure I received only a very biased interpretation,” Robert began.
Quinn gripped his brother’s shoulder, hard enough that a bruise would likely be the result.
And then Robert spilled the entire conversation that had been relayed to him by their mother. The more Quinn heard, the more furious he became. Not only furious but embarrassed about his mother’s behavior. Then the guilt swirled through him. Guilt for his actions. For leaving Robert to pay a visit Quinn should have made himself.
Guilt for knowing that the to-do had been caused by his mother, which was a direct result of his own actions. What must Miss Humphreys think of him? When Robert finished relaying all the details he remembered, Quinn was already pulling out parchment and trimming a quill.
“Since you neglected to tell me this vital information in a timely manner, I need you to take this letter to Mother directly.” Quinn wrote the opening salutation to the letter that would shock his mother.
“Directly?” Robert straightened in his chair. “Do you mean leave tomorrow morning?”
“This afternoon,” Quinn said. “Another day cannot be spent without Miss Humphreys knowing the truth. You will take this letter and explain to Mother that I intend to propose to Miss Humphreys if her father will give me his blessing.”
“Me? I must explain?” Robert said, his mouth falling open.
Quinn looked up from the parchment. “I will inform her myself of the result of my proposal, but for now, I am extending this letter as a courtesy.”
Robert’s brows shot up. “You’re really going to do it, aren’t you?”
Quinn used the wax from a nearby candle to seal the letter. When he again met Robert’s gaze, his brother was grinning.
Quinn rose to his feet and placed the letter into Robert’s waiting hands. Nothing more needed to be said between the brothers. Quinn couldn’t waste another moment.
By the time his horse was saddled and Quinn had urged the beast into a gallop, he estimated he’d arrive at the Humphreys estate a couple of hours before nightfall. He hoped that Miss Humphreys would be in residence and not visiting some other place with her aunt. He also hoped that her father would be at the estate and would take kindly to Quinn’s offer. He hoped that Robert’s journey to London would be swift and that his mother wouldn’t cut herself off from Quinn. That she’d accept Miss Humphreys into her good graces. And most of all, he hoped to find forgiveness from a young woman whom he’d sorely neglected.
Chapter Fifteen
Ellen hadn’t danced since the night of the Anderson ball. And she had no desire to. Still, she visited her meadow, though she no longer called it Little London. She wanted to forget London. She wanted to forget that fateful night at Grosvenor Square that led to the humiliating visit from Lady Kenworth.
Even through all the travails with her own mother and their secluded life in the country, Ellen had never felt so thoroughly decimated as that night. Not even the arrival of her father and brother to their country home had done its usual job of cheering her up. Yes, she was pleased to see them, but all she wanted was to be alone.
She’d found comfort only in confiding in Aunt Prudence, but life had to go on for all of them. Ellen couldn’t spend week after week wallowing in her own mire of pity. So, she walked. She visited the meadow. And she walked some more.
This afternoon she’d spent at the meadow, haphazardly reading a book of poetry that hadn’t been able to sufficiently distract her from thoughts and regrets over Lord Kenworth. Now it was nearly time to return home and dress for supper. The gold-orange streaks across the western sky told her of the approaching hour. Since her father, brother, and aunt were all in residence, they were having formal suppers together each evening. And in order to avoid even more fussing from her aunt, Ellen had forced herself to keep up her end of the conversation and eat as much food as she could—though Aunt Prudence still complained Ellen ate like a bird.
Speaking of birds, a group of birds stirred from the tree above her and flew away together. Ellen watched them for a moment, then returned to the sad book of poetry. She hadn’t made much progress today, but she’d try again tomorrow, and the next day. For as long as it took until she could forget Lord Kenworth and London, and oh, so many things.
She closed the book and rose to her feet, then brushed off her skirts to get rid of any dirt or twigs that might have collected on them from the rock she’d been sitting upon. It was then she felt something shift in the air. She didn’t know what to make of it, but her heart started to beat faster for no reason. Then the hairs rose on her arms as she realized she’d heard footsteps coming toward her through the foliage.
Ellen whirled about. Through the trees, she could see that someone was coming. A tall someone. A man. Her brother, perhaps? He knew where her meadow was. Her father? Less likely.
But the man who stepped into the clearing was neither her father nor her brother.
Her mind raced and fought to comprehend whether she was imagining Lord Kenworth return.
His gaze swept over her as if he were trying to determine whether she was real or an image. But he was in her meadow. Of course she was real.
“May I speak with you?” he said, his voice low, hesitant.
Hearing his voice again sent a rush of goose pimples across her skin. Ellen took a step back. She wasn’t afraid of him. She didn’t think he would accost her in any way. But s
he didn’t want to face him when her emotions were teetering just at the sight of him.
“What are you doing here?” she finally managed to say, although her voice was a poor rendition of her usual voice.
“I’ve come to apologize.”
Ellen stared at him. His dark hair was disheveled, much as the first time she’d met him. He wore a traveling cloak and boots, yet no gloves. Had he been riding or walking? And . . . he’d come to apologize. His eyes seemed to be pleading with her.
“You came all this way?” she asked, incredulous. “To Harpshire?”
“I thought you deserved an apology in person,” Lord Kenworth said.
He took another step closer. This time she didn’t move. He stood in the light of the fading sun now, and his dark hair took on a bronze sheen.
“That was very thoughtful of you,” she said, hating the stiffness of her tone but knowing it was the only way she could stop the threatening tears. Heavens, she had never thought to see this man again. After no word for weeks and weeks, she had assumed that his mother had well convinced him how unsuitable she really was. Yet, here he stood. It’s only an apology. He is a gentleman, after all. “You truly didn’t need to come all this way—I mean, you must have other matters to attend to besides . . . this.”
Lord Kenworth shook his head. “This is the most important thing I could attend to, and even so, I feel an apology is inadequate for the way I left London the very next morning following the ball and didn’t know about how my mother treated you. I do not know how to reconcile my regret and my mother’s cruelty. I can only hope you can find forgiveness in your heart. Her actions were unknown to me until today, actually, or I would have come much sooner.” He took a breath. “I do not know if I can ever forgive myself for not knowing. As far as my mother is concerned, there is no accounting for her actions, and I have yet to confront her. I decided to come here first—to speak to you—and beg for your forgiveness.”
Goodness. When this man wanted to apologize, he turned into a veritable talking saint.
“Ellen,” he continued in a soft voice. “I hope it wasn’t too presumptuous of me, but I’ve spoken to your father.”
Her mind spun with confusion. First, he’d called her Ellen. Second, now he’d brought her father into the fiasco of his mother’s set-down?
“Your father is agreeable to a match between us,” Lord Kenworth continued. “All that is left now is your decision.”
“My—my decision?” Ellen echoed. Her father was agreeable to a match between she and Lord Kenworth? That meant he’d asked for her hand in marriage . . . Slowly, she exhaled. Then, she inhaled. She was still able to breathe, apparently.
Lord Kenworth took another step toward her as the breeze pushed its way around them, tugging at her dress and threading through his hair. The sky seemed a gold-orange frame about his broad shoulders, but she could only stare into his eyes as their depths so intently captured hers.
Another step, and he knelt on one knee before her. “Miss Ellen Humphreys, my greatest desire is for you to be my wife.”
Her thoughts scattered as she looked down at him. “What about . . . What about your mother?”
His gaze didn’t falter; he didn’t flinch. “I love my mother and will always make sure she is taken care of, but it’s you I want to spend the rest of my life with.”
Tears stung her eyes, and there was nothing she could do to hold them back. “Truly?” she whispered.
“Truly.” He grasped her hand and drew it to his lips. Then he kissed the back of her bare hand, and the touch of his lips against her skin sent warm sensations skittering along her arm. The warmth continued to spread throughout her body until she felt she might float.
Her father had given permission, and Lord Kenworth was not to be swayed by his mother’s opinions. He was still waiting for her answer, his gaze steady on her. She swallowed against the growing lump in her throat as tears spilled onto her cheeks. “Yes,” she said, and her voice caught on a half giggle, half sob. “I will marry you, Lord Kenworth.”
He was on his feet in an instant, pulling her into his arms. He laughed and pressed a kiss against her hair. Ellen wrapped her arms about his neck, her heart pounding like mad as he tightened his hold on her. Then he pressed another kiss on her neck. His mouth was warm and soft, and her entire body hummed with sensation.
He drew away, but only enough so that he could look at her. Cradling her face with his hands, he said, “Call me Quinn, dear Ellen.”
“Quinn,” she breathed.
“I like that,” he whispered.
“Call me Ellen,” she whispered back.
He smiled as his gaze seemed to soak her in. “I like that,” he echoed. His fingers brushed along her jaw, and then he leaned down and kissed her.
Even though this was officially their second kiss, Ellen felt as if this kiss had every sensation of their first kiss, except now she knew he desired her as much as she desired him. He kissed her slowly, possessively, and wholeheartedly. Would kissing him always be like this? She could only hope. And with that thought, she pulled him even closer, because it was finally starting to dawn on her that this man would be her husband . . .
She had to ask one question, though. “When did you know?” she asked in between kisses. “When did you know you wanted to marry me?”
He lifted his head and gazed at her for a moment. “I think I started falling in love with you when I saw you dancing here by yourself, humming a random tune. But I knew I wanted to marry you when I watched you dancing with my brother.”
Ellen smiled. “Perhaps that was your brother’s reason to ask me to dance.”
Quinn’s mouth lifted into a smirk. “I wouldn’t be surprised.” He ran his hands down her arms, then around her back to settle at her waist. He proceeded to kiss her neck, and the warm shivers started all over again.
But Ellen had started to think about what would happen when they returned to her home. When they announced to her family their engagement. Her father had agreed, and surely her aunt would be delighted. She couldn’t imagine her brother having any opposition . . . but what about her mother?
“Quinn,” she said, the name sounding quite new on her tongue. “You may want to meet my mother before you agree to marrying me.”
Quinn leaned his forehead against hers. “Your father told me about her . . . condition. I think that our mothers will become great friends once they meet. They suffer many of the same maladies, and they will have much to discuss.”
“Do you really think they’ll be friends?” Ellen asked. It was quite a thing to consider. “We are country folk. That alone will be hard for your mother to overcome.”
“Mmm,” Quinn said. “Let’s talk about our mothers later. Right now, I want to kiss the woman I’ve fallen in love with.”
Ellen laughed, but it was cut short when Quinn made good on his promise.
Epilogue
One Year Later
“I am perfectly able to get out of bed on my own,” Ellen said as her husband drew back the covers. Yes, she was seven months into her pregnancy, her ankles were swollen, and she felt new aches every day, but she wasn’t an infant herself.
Quinn leaned over and kissed her forehead. “You stubborn woman. I’ve taken the entire week off so that I might care for your every need while our mothers are visiting.”
“That is exactly why you shouldn’t be here, fussing over me,” she said. “Our mothers will see that you’re completely smitten with your overlarge pregnant wife. I am sure that neither of our fathers ever did half the things for their wives as you do for me.”
“I don’t care about other husbands,” Quinn said, placing both hands on the bed on either side of her so that he was hovering mere inches above her. “I care about you, and you’re not overlarge. You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”
Ellen reached up and traced his cheek. He hadn’t even been shaved yet or attended to his own morning ritual. “You are a good man.”
&nb
sp; Quinn lifted an eyebrow.
“You are the finest husband and the most handsome man I’ve ever seen,” she added.
“That’s better.” Then he leaned down and kissed her.
Ellen looped her arms about his neck, enjoying the only private time they’d have all day. Their mothers had planned to visit at the same time so that one couldn’t upstage the other. It had been like that since their marriage nine months ago. Quinn had been right. Once the shock of a marquess marrying a country gentlewoman had been replaced by other gossip among the ton, his mother had warmed up to Ellen. It might also have had something to do with the fact that Ellen had become pregnant soon after the wedding and Quinn was about to possibly provide a male heir.
The mothers spent their visits comparing their ailments and various treatments. Ellen’s mother still wouldn’t travel to London, but she seemed to enjoy visiting the Kenworth country estate.
They would both be breaking their fast about now, and if Ellen didn’t appear soon, then one of them would be sending a servant to check in on her. But for now, her husband was kissing her, and she was kissing him back.
The kissing turned quite a bit more passionate than Ellen had planned on, and when Quinn didn’t seem to be in the frame of mind to stop anytime soon, Ellen drew back. “Quinn, dear, we must join our mothers before they sound the alarm.”
He sighed, his expression disappointed, which secretly delighted Ellen. “You’re right.”
And just when she thought he was going to move away from the bed and allow her to climb out of it, he scooped her into his arms. Ellen squealed and immediately tried to cover her mouth even as she continued to protest.
Quinn chuckled and carried her to the vanity bench, where he set her down.
The woman looking back at her in the mirror had changed over the months. No longer was she a lonely young woman, but she was a well-loved wife and soon-to-be mother.
“How is this?” Quinn asked, running a comb through Ellen’s long hair.
A Night in Grosvenor Square Page 24