By Love Undone

by Suzanne Enoch

  “Might I suggest ‘I tried tumbling the chit, and she threatened to cry rape unless I took her to London and foisted her off on my parents’?”

  Quin looked up, scowling, as his father stopped in the doorway. “I did not try to tumble her,” he snapped, wishing he’d remembered to close the door. For God’s sake, Maddie might have heard him. He’d never have lived it down.

  Lord Highbarrow scowled and folded his arms. “Oh, really?” he said, cynicism dripping from his voice.

  “Yes, really. And I practically had to drag her by her hair to get her to come to London. And please keep your voice down, Your Grace. Someone might hear you.”

  “No one who matters. I always thought Rafael was my idiot son. She’s abusing your generosity. You don’t actually think she intends to storm back to Malcolm if she can drag the future Duke of Highbarrow before the archbishop, do you? Sweet Lucifer, boy, stop using your balls for brains!”

  Quin shot to his feet, anger tearing through him. “I am marrying Eloise, as you require. I—”

  “I didn’t ask for a recital of the obvious, Quinlan. That’s what my accountants are for. You’d best not forget that you are marrying Eloise, if you want to remain the Marquis of Warefield. It’s my damned title, yours to use by my leave only!”

  “I know that. I haven’t done anything except feel pity for a—”

  “That isn’t pity I see in your eyes when you look at her, boy,” the duke cut in. “If you want to rut with her, that’s fine. But get your damned whore out from under my roof!”

  His face flushing, Quin clenched his fist. “Maddie Willits is not a damned—”

  “Bah!”

  His Grace stomped out the door and down the hall, bellowing at the butler for a glass of port as he went. Incensed both at the accusation and at how close some of it was to the truth, Quin grabbed the brandy decanter and hurled it into the fireplace. It shattered against the hot bricks, the brandy exploding in a satisfying hiss of blue flames. “Bloody, pompous—”

  “Should I pack, then?” Maddie’s voice came from the doorway.

  Quin whipped around, paling. “Damn…I didn’t know you’d returned. Excuse my language, Maddie.”

  Shaking her head, she backed up into the hallway. “No need, my lord. And you don’t have to be so polite, you know.” She brushed at her eyes as a single tear ran down her cheek. “It’s what they’re all saying, I’m certain.”

  Quin followed her into the hall and grabbed her hand. “Wait,” he said, pulling her back into the library and closing the door. “None of that was meant for you to hear.”

  She looked away, her lower lip trembling. Her slim wrist, clenched tightly in his fingers, shook a little. “It doesn’t matter.”

  “Of course it does. His Grace just likes to roar and intimidate the rest of the pack. He’s nothing but wind.”

  “That was…quite rude of him,” she said unsteadily, obviously very hurt and making a heroic effort to stop crying. “No wonder Mr. Bancroft doesn’t like him. I don’t, either.”

  “Neither do I, at the moment,” he said. “Please don’t cry.”

  “I’m not crying. I’m very angry.”

  Slowly Quin drew her closer. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, wanting to hold her in his arms. “And don’t think you need to leave. I’ll speak to him again—in a more civil tone. I promise.”

  He was rather surprised he’d made the offer: begging to His Grace on bended knee was not something he did on a frequent basis. In fact, he couldn’t recall either one of them ever backing down after an argument. But if he didn’t apologize, Maddie would leave. And he didn’t want her to leave.

  “This is ridiculous, anyway. If my parents or…or Charles—if they should see me, everything would be ruined. Especially me.”

  Quin reached down and lifted her chin with his fingers. “And what makes you think I don’t enjoy a little bit of the ridiculous every now and then?”

  He wanted to kiss her. He wanted to feel her lips against his—he wanted to feel her body against his.

  Maddie met his gaze. “Oh, no,” she whispered. “Not again.”

  “Should I not?”

  “Yes. No. Oh, blast.” She lifted up on her toes, and twined her arms about his neck. As she pulled herself up against him, he leaned down and brushed his lips against hers. The touch was electric. Unable to help himself, he kissed her again, more roughly, sliding his hands down her hips and pulling her against him.

  “Quin?” the duchess called. “Quin, I need to talk to you.”

  With a strangled sound, Maddie wrenched away from him. “Stop it,” she said sharply, shoving at his chest. “Stop it!”

  He stared at her for a moment, stunned at his own reaction to her, and exceedingly frustrated at having been interrupted. “You started it. And don’t go anywhere,” he ordered, taking a last look at her and then slipping through the library door.

  Maddie sighed and plunked herself down in one of the chairs. “I started it? Oh, I suppose I did. Drat.” Slowly she reached up and traced her lips with her fingertips. Only a kiss, and it had gone through her like lightning—worse than before, and it left her with a raw, aching yearning for him.

  A few moments later Quin came back into the room. His face was somber, and her heart began pounding again, this time with dread. “I have to leave, don’t I?” And the duke would probably see to it that she couldn’t go back to Langley now. Which narrowed down her choices to none. “Don’t I?”

  “No, you don’t.” He cleared his throat. “Unfortunately, though, there has been a complication.”

  She rallied enough to lift an eyebrow. “Only one?”

  “So to speak. His Grace has forbidden my mother to assist you. Her compromise was that you be allowed to remain here until arrangements can be made to send you back to Langley. And she will still accompany us to the opera tonight, as she gave her word. My family is very big on honoring their word.”

  “I’ve noticed.” She wondered for a wrenching moment what would have happened between them if she’d been able to stay. “It’s over, then.”

  “No, it’s not. Tonight will go a long way toward repairing the damage. And I have a few ideas.”

  “Just let me go back, my lord. You’ve done more than your part.”

  He tilted his head at her. “Call me Quin.”

  “I don’t want to.”

  “Why not? We’ve kissed twice now.”

  She couldn’t tell him that it meant there was some sort of connection between them, that she had a difficult enough time with distancing herself from him already, that over the past few weeks she had begun to regard him with a great deal more affection than she thought possible. “It’s not proper.”

  The marquis actually laughed. “Call me Quin,” he repeated.

  Maddie took a deep breath. “Just let me leave, Quin.”

  “No.”

  She didn’t know precisely why he was continuing to argue, for he was nearly engaged. Still, for a bare, exhilarating moment she was relieved that he insisted on pursuing this stubborn course of action. For whatever reason, he wanted her there.

  “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go change.”

  Maddie blinked, reluctantly floating down from her daydream. “Why?”

  Quin grimaced, edging for the door. “I’m meeting someone this afternoon.”

  At the sight of his sheepish expression, she immediately realized to whom he was referring. “Of course. Lady Stokesley arrives in London today.” The remains of her fantasy sank with a thud into a very deep mud puddle.

  “Yes.” He paused. “Which could be quite opportune for you.”

  She looked at him skeptically. “For me?”

  He strode forward to clasp her hands in his. “Of course. Father might be able to forbid my mother from assisting us, but he can’t very well order Eloise around. She’s only a second cousin.”

  Humiliation flushed Maddie’s cheeks. “No, Quin. That’s a terrible idea. I’m sure she’ll want
nothing to do with me. How would you ever explain me to her, anyway?”

  His smile faltered a little. “Eloise is very understanding.”

  Maddie nodded, pulling her hands free. “Even so,” she returned, trying to sound cynical and amused instead of heartbroken, “if I were you, I wouldn’t mention that you kissed me. Twice.”

  “Maddie,” he began, closing the distance between them again.

  She backed away. “Don’t try to explain. We’ll just put it to the general weakness of men.”

  His eyes searched hers. “I’d rather you didn’t,” he said, “but I don’t think it would be wise to pursue an explanation any further at the moment.”

  Looking at the slight smile curving his mouth, and the jade eyes studying her face, Maddie abruptly agreed with him. This was becoming extremely complicated. “Well? You’d best be off, then.”

  “Don’t go anywhere while I’m away,” he warned.

  She put a hand to her chest. “Me?”

  “Miss Willits, don’t make me lock you—”

  “All right, all right,” she surrendered. “I won’t go anywhere while you’re off visiting.”

  He nodded. “Good.”

  “Quin!” Eloise, Lady Stokesley, hurried downstairs in a fashionable swirl of blue silk.

  She’d cut her hair since last autumn, her long blond tresses now a short, daring cascade of curls framing her perfect alabaster features. Her blue eyes reflected the fine material of her gown as she stopped before him. They’d known one another for so long that Quin sometimes forgot how lovely she was—until he set eyes on her after a few months of being apart. He took her hands and drew them to his lips.

  “Eloise,” he said with a smile. She stood a few inches above Maddie’s height—though he’d never thought of her as being overly tall before. “You are a vision, my dear, as always.”

  She curled up a delicate fist and hit him on the shoulder. “I’m very angry at you.”

  There was no heat in either the blow or her voice, and he lifted an eyebrow. “Whatever for?”

  “I’ve had a terrible time keeping track of you, you beast. First you’re at Warefield, and then you go off to Somerset, of all places. You hardly correspond with me, and then, when I finally think my letters have caught up to you, your uncle writes to inform me you’re at Highbarrow Castle. Then you go off to London without a word. And without coming to Stafford Green first.”

  Quin led her into the Stokesley House morning room. “Yes, well, that’s one of the reasons I wanted to see you right away. I’ve had…something of an adventure.”

  Eloise seated herself on the couch, beckoning him to join her. “Do tell me what’s kept you so occupied.”

  He heard the slight censure in her voice but ignored it. He had been less than communicative over the past few weeks. “It’s a rather long story.”

  “I should imagine so. Tell me.”

  Quin settled back against the cushions. “Well, you know Uncle Malcolm had an apoplexy, and that Father sent me to Langley to help with the planting.”

  She nodded. “Yes, you did manage to write me about that, and about how inconvenient it would be to your schedule.”

  It had been inconvenient only until he’d set eyes on Maddie. “It turned out that Uncle Malcolm already had an assistant who was quite proficient at estate management,” he continued.

  “Then why didn’t you take your leave early and visit me, as we’d planned?”

  “I’m getting to that. This assistant of my uncle’s was a female.”

  Eloise’s eyes widened, and she put a hand over her mouth. “Oh, my,” she said slyly. “How wicked of your uncle. And such a shame that the best gossip is always within one’s family, so one can’t spread it about.”

  Quin frowned, then wiped the expression from his face when she looked at him curiously. Funny, he’d never taken notice of gossip before. But then, he’d never seen the effects of it—until Maddie. “I don’t think it was like that at all,” he countered, a little stiffly. “She was more like a daughter to him, I believe. And it turned out that she was the eldest daughter of Viscount Halverston.”

  “The…we came out the same Season. She’s the one who ran off after half the ton discovered her lifting her skirts for that awful Benjamin Spenser, isn’t she?”

  “I’m not convinced that was her fault.”

  Eloise looked up at his sharp tone. “Oh, really?”

  Charging to Maddie’s defense would only make things worse. And Maddie certainly wouldn’t appreciate it. “As you said,” he continued, “Spenser doesn’t have the best reputation as a gentleman. At any rate, my uncle believed her to be innocent of any wrongdoing. He…he asked me to reintroduce her to London society.”

  “He did what?” Eloise stood. “You had that…lightskirt with you when you traveled to Highbarrow?”

  “Eloise, please,” he cut in, before she could say something worse about Maddie. “My mother has been helping her. She’s very sweet.”

  Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Sweet?”

  It wasn’t exactly the perfect word to describe Maddie, but he couldn’t very well tell Eloise that he was half addle-brained over the wild-hearted chit. “Yes. Except that now Father’s on a rampage about how she’ll somehow tarnish the Bancroft name, and you know Mother won’t directly defy him, so…so I need your help, Eloise.”

  “My help?”

  Quin shrugged. “Well, yes. I promised Malcolm I’d see her able to marry any gentleman in London. I can’t very well chaperon her myself.”

  For a long moment she looked at him. Finally, she sat again and took his hand in hers. “Of course I’ll help, my marquis.” Eloise moved closer, leaning her head against his shoulder. “Poor dear, she’d be all alone if not for us.”

  “Well, she’s not exactly helpless. In fact, I believe her to be quite capable.”

  “Capable?” Eloise chuckled. “Oh, my. You make her sound like a milkmaid. I can’t wait to meet her.”

  “You said you came out together.”

  She shook her head. “No, I said we came out the same Season. I imagine we attended a few of the same soirees, but Halverston’s a very small holding, you know.”

  He knew what she meant—that Maddie hadn’t been privileged to travel in the same high circles into which he and Eloise had been born. “Yes, I know. Mother’s last official duty is to chaperon her to the opera tonight. I’ll bring her by tomorrow, if that’s all right.”

  “Oh, yes! I’m quite looking forward to helping her now. We shall be like sisters.”

  Quin smiled, relieved, and kissed Eloise on the cheek. “Thank you.”

  “Come by at one, and we’ll have luncheon in the garden.”

  With a nod, Quin collected his hat and went outside to retrieve Aristotle. That hadn’t been nearly as sticky as he’d anticipated. Perhaps there was a chance he would escape the Season in one piece.

  With Mary’s assistance, Maddie dressed in her dark green and gray gown with a scooped neck and short puffy sleeves. The flowing silk was easily the most lovely thing she’d worn in years, if not ever. It was a gown fit for a prime box at the opera, and as she twisted in front of the full-length mirror, she was terrified. “This is so stupid.”

  “You look beautiful, Miss Maddie,” Mary protested, reaching out to adjust one last out-of-place curl.

  “Well, thank you, but that’s not quite what I meant.” She’d made Quin promise four different times that her parents weren’t in town yet, and another three times that Charles Dunfrey wouldn’t be attending The Magic Flute. Which left only a thousand other people to stare at her and laugh that she would think of returning to London society—even in the company of the Bancrofts.

  Her door rattled with Quin’s confident knock. “Ready, Maddie?”

  “I really don’t think we should upset your father any further,” she told the door. “You go. I’ll begin packing for Langley.”

  The bedchamber door opened. “No excuses….” the marquis beg
an, then closed his mouth as he ran his gaze over her. “‘My prime request,’” he said softly, “‘Which I do last pronounce, is, oh, you wonder, if you be maid or no?’”

  She couldn’t help the smile that touched her lips. “‘No wonder, sir, but certainly a maid.’”

  He stepped closer, apparently oblivious of Mary’s presence. “Then you know The Tempest, as well.”

  “I’ve recently had a great deal of time to read.” Belatedly she backed away from him. “And you shouldn’t be in here.”

  He lifted an eyebrow. “Don’t want you escaping out the window, you know. The coach is waiting. Shall we?”

  Maddie shook her head. “No, I don’t think so.”

  “After tonight it will be much easier. Come on.”

  He was entirely too high-spirited, which made her even more nervous than she had been a few minutes earlier. Reluctantly she followed him downstairs. “You’ve never been cut, have you, my lord?”

  He looked sideways at her.

  “Quin,” she corrected.

  “No, I haven’t. Except by you, of course.”

  “Well, as I imagine you’ll find out tonight,” she said, while the butler helped her on with her shawl, “I don’t matter, Quin. And thank you, Beeks.”

  “You could be a little more positive about this, Maddie.” He gestured her to precede him out the door.

  Reluctantly, Maddie complied.

  Shrugging, she stepped up into the coach to sit beside the duchess. He didn’t understand—and he wouldn’t understand, because it had never happened to him.

  Once they exited the coach at the front of the opera house, however, she thought perhaps he’d been right, after all. She received several startled second looks and heard the murmured commentary going about the huge lobby, but no one actually turned his back on her. She held tightly onto Quin’s arm, grateful for his tall, strong presence, and tried to look relaxed. The marquis, with Her Grace on his other arm, smiled and greeted their friends and acquaintances as though nothing out of the ordinary was occurring.

  “See?” Quin murmured at her, as they started up the long, winding staircase leading to the balcony and the exclusive boxes.