Almack’s next assembly was in ten days, and Charles Dunfrey was ready to forgive all and take Maddie as his bride. His debt of honor would be satisfied, and he could go on to marry Eloise a month later, just as the duke had envisioned.
Only one thing was wrong. He’d never expected to fall in love with Maddie Willits—and now that he had, he wasn’t certain he could give her up.
Chapter 13
Charles Dunfrey called on Maddie three times at Bancroft House over the next four days, and he also took her on a picnic and horseback riding at Hyde Park. During that time, with the exception of a few unreadable looks, the Marquis of Warefield seemed to be avoiding her again. She began to think that perhaps Quin had given up on his absurd notion of marrying her, and the idea left her stupidly disappointed and brokenhearted.
After all, the whole idea of his marrying her to restore her honor was completely ridiculous. Even if she had been a paragon of virtue, the future Duke of Highbarrow would have set his gaze much higher than where she stood. It made no sense that she lay awake every night, imagining being with him again, and dreaming of what it would be like actually to many the man with whom—despite all her intentions to the contrary—she had fallen in love.
Apparently, though, the marquis hadn’t given up entirely. The next morning Charles had an appointment, and Quin appeared before she’d finished eating breakfast. “Good morning,” he said amiably, taking the seat opposite her.
“Good morning,” she answered, wary of his seeming good humor. He was up to something.
He motioned for the platter of fruit, and one of the footmen hurried to bring it to him. “What are your plans for today?”
“I need to write Mr. Bancroft.”
Quin sat back and gazed at her. “And tell him what?”
Maddie blushed. As if she could write him about what was actually happening. “I haven’t written him yet that Charles Dunfrey has been calling on me, and that he’s been quite nice.”
“Ah. Considering that his bellowing is what ruined you, I should hope he would be quite nice.”
“You don’t need to be so hostile,” she said testily.
“I know, I know,” he muttered, half to himself, and sighed. “May I make amends by buying you a new hat?”
“I don’t need a new hat.”
He paused for a moment, as though she’d said something unexpected. “How about a new dress, then?” His eyes met hers lazily, and a warm, responding tremor went down her spine.
She wished he would quit referring to that night, exciting and intoxicating as it had been. Being reminded of his intimate touch and his passion only reminded her that she would never have that with him again. “A new hat will be more than adequate.”
“Splendid. I’ll have the phaeton hitched up.” With a grin, he rose and snatched a peach from the platter. “Oh, by the way,” he continued, “I thought you might want to know: His Grace is taking his breakfast at home this morning.” He slipped out the door.
“Egad.” Maddie hastily crammed the remaining biscuit in her mouth and washed it down with a gulp of tea. She’d become nearly as adept as the rest of the Bancrofts at evading the duke, thanks to a great deal of luck and a good measure of what Rafe termed her “uncanny nose for trouble.”
With a quick and garbled word of thanks to the half dozen footmen awaiting the family’s pleasure in the breakfast room, Maddie fled through the kitchen and up the back stairs to her bedchamber. By now even the lofty Bancroft servants were used to her untraditional ways, and her escape warranted a mere nod from the head cook.
After she snatched up her bonnet and gloves from her dressing table, she hurried downstairs by the same route, exiting into the stable yard through the kitchen door.
Quin sat in the driver’s seat of the phaeton, waiting for her. “Finished breakfast already?” he asked, offering his hand as she nimbly clambered up beside him.
“You might have warned me earlier,” she answered, tying the bonnet under her chin.
“Here, Maddie, let me do that.”
She slapped his hand away and turned her shoulder to him. “I can manage, thank you very much.”
“Don’t you like me to touch you?” he murmured.
Maddie swallowed. “Yes. So don’t.”
Quin glanced at her, and then snapped the reins. The phaeton started smartly down the short path. They turned out onto the street, and he leaned closer. “You keep telling me you’re already ruined. What’s the harm—”
She’d been asking herself the same question—repeatedly. “I am not some actress or opera singer, Warefield. I suggest you find one of them to satisfy your baser needs.”
For a moment his expression darkened. “You’re fitting back into polite society quite well, my dear.”
“You make it sound like an insult. My fitting in is what you wanted, my dear.”
“Perhaps. But I wasn’t speaking of my ‘baser needs,’ as you call them. I was talking about desire, Maddie.”
She glanced at him, blushing. Everything was so much easier when they were arguing. “Well, stop that, too.”
Unexpectedly, he chuckled. “I can stop talking about it.”
She smiled reluctantly. “Sometimes—just sometimes—I’m glad I rescued you from Mr. Whitmore and Miss Marguerite.”
“You rescued me from that damned pig?”
“I should say so. If not for me, you—”
“Maddie!”
Startled, she whipped her head around. Standing outside a clothier’s shop were Lord and Lady Halverston, gaping at the phaeton as it passed by them.
Quin took one look at her face and pulled up the phaeton. “Who are they?” he snapped.
“My…my parents,” she choked out.
“Sweet….” he growled, and grabbed hold of her arm before she could jump from the carriage and make an escape.
He needn’t have worried. She couldn’t move. She couldn’t speak. She couldn’t utter a word. All she could do was stare at her parents, staring back at her.
“Oh, good heavens,” her mother continued, hiking up her skirt and running forward. “It is you. It is you! Maddie!”
The hack driver behind them whistled his annoyance, and Quin maneuvered the phaeton over to the side of the street—even though Maddie would much rather have grabbed the reins and fled. When he gently placed his hand over her clenched one, she jumped again.
“Go say hello,” he whispered.
She shook her head tightly. “I can’t. Just go.”
“Go where?”
“Anywhere.”
“I’m here, Maddie,” he said quietly, stroking his fingers over hers. “I promised, remember? Nothing will happen to you.”
His typical, self-confident arrogance brought her back to herself. “Where were you five years ago?” she muttered, and stood.
Hurriedly Quin tied down the reins and jumped to the ground. Before either of her parents reached them, he had moved to her side of the phaeton and reached up to take her hand. Reading the silent encouragement in his eyes, she grasped his fingers tightly and stepped down to face her parents.
“Mama, Papa,” she said, her voice miraculously steady. “You both look well.”
They stopped a few feet away, as though afraid she might bolt again if they came nearer. Her mother fluttered a handkerchief. “We look well? Where in the world have you been? Do you have any idea how worried we were when you vanished? You simply have no—”
Lord Halverston put a hand on his wife’s shoulder. “Please, Julia. There will be time for explanations later. Is this your husband, Maddie?”
Flabbergasted again, Maddie looked at Quin. With a slight grin he pulled free of her grip and stepped forward to hold out his hand. “Quin Bancroft,” he said amiably, glancing sideways at Maddie. “A friend.”
Lord Halverston shook his hand vigorously. “You are too modest, my lord. Julia, this is the Marquis of Warefield.”
Lady Halverston curtsied, her expression stunned and astonish
ed, and her face nearly as white as Maddie’s. “My lord.”
Quin asked some innocuous question about when the family had arrived in London and Maddie glanced at him, grateful for the reprieve. She stood close beside him while he played the kind, pleasant marquis, and she tried not to shake. Whatever she claimed about being able to stand on her own, she was very glad he was there.
Silently she studied her parents. Except for a little more gray peppering his temples, Robert Willits looked almost unchanged. When he made an effort to be pleasant, as he was doing now for Quin, the viscount could be very charming. What she remembered best about him, though, was the constant barrage of harsh, disapproving words he had for her stubbornness and lack of propriety, and the even worse words he’d bellowed about how she had forever disgraced herself and her family.
Her mother always seconded what her father said, mean and unfair as it frequently seemed. Today, though, Lady Halverston had eyes only for her daughter.
“How long have you been in London?” her mother asked.
She shrugged. “A few weeks.”
“A few weeks? Why didn’t you write? Why didn’t you let us know where you were?”
“I didn’t want you to know.”
“But you don’t mind that everyone else in London knows of your return?” Lord Halverston scowled at her.
She was familiar with the expression. “Coming here was not my idea.”
Quin stepped forward, taking her hand again and placing it over his arm. “My mother and my cousin are assisting with Miss Willits’s return to society. She was very kind to our family, and we are attempting to repay the favor.”
Again Maddie was grateful to the marquis, this time for keeping her past whereabouts a secret. “Your mother will be expecting us,” she lied, looking up at him hopefully.
“Yes,” he nodded. “I beg your pardon, Halverston, but the duchess hates to be kept waiting.”
“Of course,” her father hurriedly agreed.
“Perhaps you might wish to call on us this afternoon, at Bancroft House,” Quin continued.
“Oh, yes. Bancroft House. We’d be delighted.” The viscount nodded at Quin and shook his hand again.
“We’ll see you at two, then.”
Quin turned and helped Maddie back up into the phaeton. When he joined her on the seat she elbowed him hard in the ribs, unable to rein herself in any longer.
“Ouch. What was that for?”
“Traitor,” she muttered at him, trying not to stare at her parents.
“Coward,” he returned, whispering the word in her ear as he collected the reins. With her mother waving after them, he sent the rig back out into the street.
Maddie sat with her arms crossed over her chest, refusing to look in his direction again. No one could possibly be as annoying as he was and so kind and compassionate at the same time.
“That wasn’t so bad, was it?”
“You had no right to invite them to call on me,” she snapped. “And I am not a coward.”
“I didn’t invite them to call on you,” he corrected, fleeting humor touching his eyes. “I invited them to call on me.”
“Oh, how gracious. I thought you were…on my side,” she said, searching for the right words. “But you weren’t, were you? You were just worried I’d cause a scene and embarrass you.”
“No, I—”
“Stop the phaeton. I’m getting out.”
“No, you’re not.” Before she could react, Quin grabbed her arm and yanked her closer. “Maddie, you’re upset. That’s all right. But please, don’t be angry at me for it. I am on your side. I’m trying to help, in my own dull, pompous way.”
For a moment she let herself lean against his strong, warm shoulder and closed her eyes. It was so absurd that she could be mad enough to spit at him, and at the same time want nothing more than to just melt into his arms.
With a glance at the crowded walkways, she straightened. Melting in the middle of Mayfair would be decidedly unwise. “None of this mess was part of your bargain with Mr. Bancroft, you know.”
He grinned. “I didn’t bargain for a great deal of this, truth be told, Maddie. But I can’t say I’m sorry for any of it.”
“Well, that’s one of us,” she said, with as much sarcasm as she could muster.
“Oh, come now,” he chided, obviously not fooled a bit. “If you could reconcile with your parents, wouldn’t you want to? Your mother certainly seemed pleased to see you.”
So she had. “Don’t tell them where I’ve been, please.”
“Your secret is safe with me,” he said. Quin drew a long breath. “Maddie?”
She looked at him, watching her with serious green eyes. “Yes?”
He held her gaze for a long moment, then shook himself and faced forward again. “Nothing.”
As soon as they returned to Bancroft House, Maddie fled upstairs to change. Just in case, Quin instructed the gardener to let him know if she tried to make an escape out her window. She seemed resigned to speaking with her parents again, but her temperament could be rather mercurial. And he didn’t want to risk losing her now. Not until he’d figured things out.
He made his way up to the morning room to inform his mother of the Willitses’ impending visit.
“Mama, Maddie’s parents are in London,” he said, pushing the door open and strolling into the room. “I’ve invited them….” Belatedly he noticed his mother’s guest. “Eloise? I thought you would be visiting Lady Landrey this morning.”
Eloise sipped her tea, her blue eyes regarding him warmly. “The poor thing canceled the brunch. Seems her son’s been sent down from Cambridge in disgrace.”
“I’m surprised Lester was tolerated as long as he was.” Quin sat beside her and motioned to a footman for another cup.
“Yes, it’s amazing what a healthy endowment will do for one’s patience,” she smiled. “Sugar?”
“No, thank you.”
“What were you saying about Maddie’s parents?” The duchess set aside her embroidery and regarded her son.
“We ran across them this morning.”
His mother sat forward. “How did they react?”
Quin stifled a smile. Much as she tried to remain aloof, the Duchess of Highbarrow had completely fallen for Maddie’s considerable charms. “I’m not certain. Her mother seemed relieved, but her father was apparently more interested in meeting me.”
“Can you blame him?” Eloise chuckled. “A ruined bit or the future Duke of Highbarrow?”
“Yes, but the ‘ruined bit,’ as you call her, is his daughter—whom he hasn’t seen in five years.” Quin glanced at his second cousin, annoyed. She didn’t sound very much like a willing confederate.
“You said you invited them somewhere,” his mother broke in. “Here, I presume?”
“Yes. At two this afternoon. I explained that she had done our family a favor and we were repaying her by chaperoning her return to society.”
Eloise eyed him coolly. “You didn’t mention that you’d kissed her?”
So she’d found out about that. From the duke, no doubt. But he had done a great deal more than kiss Maddie. Quin gazed calmly at Lady Stokesley. “I didn’t think it very wise, no. Is something bothering you, Eloise?”
“Only that you haven’t kissed me more often, Quin. An oversight I hope you intend to correct soon.” She held her cup up, and a footman hurried to refill it. A drop of hot tea splashed on her finger, and she gasped and threw the contents of the cup at the servant’s chest. “You idiot! Are you trying to scar me?”
He bowed, wiping frantically at the hot liquid soaking his waistcoat. “No, my lady. Please accept my apologies. I’m terribly sorry. I—”
“Franklin, get out,” the duchess ordered.
He bowed again. “Yes, Your Grace. Thank you, Your Grace.”
Still bowing, Franklin backed out of the room. His place was immediately taken by another servant, who swiftly cleaned up the mess and provided Eloise with a new cup. Quin
watched the incident, disturbed, while his mother glanced at him and calmly added another spoonful of sugar to her tea.
“Eloise tells me you’ve agreed on July the seventeenth,” she said. “Your father will be pleased. In fact, I believe he intended on meeting with the archbishop this morning, to secure Westminster Cathedral.” She sipped her tea again, then lifted a finger and set the cup aside. “Oh, and we need to send out invitations immediately. Otherwise, the whole gala will appear to be hastily planned.”
“As if you could hastily plan something over twenty-three years in the making,” Quin said. Of course His Grace would be pleased. He’d been the one to choose the date.
“There’s no need for sarcasm,” Eloise returned, obviously out of countenance with him today.
He really couldn’t blame her. In all likelihood, the sooner everything was settled, the better for everyone concerned. Except for him—and except, perhaps, for Maddie. “No. It just seems a great deal of fuss over something everyone’s known about for a quarter of a century.”
Eloise stood. “Well, I think it’s wretched of you,” she snapped. “You didn’t used to be so cruel and unfeeling.”
“Oh, damnation.” Reluctantly he stood and walked to the door before her. “My apologies, Eloise. I did not intend to be cruel,” he said, feeling distinctly as though he’d enacted the same scene before, and would do so again. Endlessly.
Eloise stopped, looking up at him with her much-praised blue eyes. “I know. Take me riding tomorrow. And buy me something pretty.”
Quin forced a smile. “With pleasure.”
He escorted her outside and handed her up into her father’s carriage. “Until tomorrow, Eloise,” he said, kissing her knuckles.
Back in the morning room, his mother had summoned the head cook and was discussing a luncheon menu. He leaned in the doorway, waiting until she finished and dismissed the servant. “For Lord and Lady Halverston, I presume? Thank you, Mother.”
By Love Undone Page 24