By Love Undone (15 page)

“Well, what does it say?”

Malcolm looked up from Maddie’s letter. Chin in one hand, Squire John Ramsey sat glaring at him from the far side of their chess game. A leaf sailed down from the garden tree they sat beneath, and Malcolm brushed it off the board.

“Lewis—my brother—fled to London after five minutes with her, and she’s apparently declared war on the rest of the family. I wouldn’t be surprised if they had to clap her in irons to get her inside the coach to London.”

“What’s so amusing about that?” John challenged. “She must be absolutely miserable.”

Malcolm couldn’t explain that he was able to judge Maddie’s spirits just from the mild tone of her letter. Langley seemed more quiet and calm than it had been for years, since the defiant beauty had first arrived and dared him to hire her. He missed her terribly, but from the moment he’d taken her up on the challenge, he’d
known she wouldn’t stay forever. He shook his head at his companion.

“Maddie’s a fighter. She needs a challenge—something to push against. If my illustrious relations had greeted her with honey and cake, they’d never have been able to drag her to London, because she’d have them twisted around her little finger by now.”

“As she does every male in Somerset,” John sighed.

Malcolm looked at the letter once more, then set it aside to resume the game. “Yes, she does.” And Quinlan had better be taking proper care of her, or there would be hell to pay.

“Maddie, please come down from the carriage,” Quin pleaded soothingly, while he attempted to ignore the curious gawking of the butler and the scores of footmen needed to unload the Bancroft party’s luggage.

“No,” came her tense voice from inside the darkened coach.

“What nonsense.” The Duchess of Highbarrow rolled her eyes, snapped her fan shut, and headed up the front steps into Bancroft House amid a sea of bowing servants.

Quin leaned against the open door of the coach. He should have ridden the last few miles with her—but then his mother or her maid would have had to join them, and he’d never have been able to talk to her. Not that they’d done much talking the last few times he’d made the attempt. Whenever he saw her, he immediately became seized with the desire either to bellow at her or kiss her. It had become quite irritating.

“Maddie, Bancroft House is surrounded by a very healthy border of oak trees, with a hedge of blooming pink rhododendrums beneath. In addition to its being quite picturesque, I assure you that the drive cannot be seen from the street.”

“I want to go home,” she stated.

The loneliness in her voice made him pause. “And where would that be, precisely?” he prompted quietly.

Given her keen sense of the practical, he thought that would get her attention. And indeed, a moment later her hand emerged from the dark. Swiftly he clasped it in his own. She was shaking, and he realized how unnerved she must be by the whole experience. Even before they’d entered the suburbs of London, she’d pulled the curtains shut in the carriage’s small windows. From Aristotle’s back he’d tried repeatedly to lure her to peek outside, but she wouldn’t even answer him.

Slowly he drew her out of the coach. Her eyes were shut tight, and she stopped when her feet touched the drive. “Eventually you
will
run into something that way,” he murmured, amused and sympathetic at the same time.

“I know,” she said through clenched teeth. “Just give me a moment.”

“Take several.”

She continued to clasp his fingers tightly. Apparently she detested the rest of London more than she disliked him. Quin hadn’t anticipated being elevated from enemy to ally, but the circumstance wasn’t unwelcome. He gazed at her wan face. Good God, she was beautiful.

Finally, with a slow, deep breath, she opened her vulnerable gray eyes. She took in the huge house, the drive, the scattering of curious servants, and then Quin. “It’s lovely,” she said woodenly.

“Hm. I’ll consider that high praise, coming from you. Shall we?” He gestured toward the open front door.

Maddie didn’t budge, or loosen her grip on his hand. “Will you be staying here?”

Quin hadn’t intended to. During the Season he typically stayed at Whiting House on Grosvenor Street, which had at one time belonged to his grandmother’s
family. Spending the entire summer at Bancroft House—with his parents—was a torture he hadn’t had to endure since he turned eighteen and was admitted to Oxford. “Of course I’m staying here. Until you’re settled, anyway.”

The poisonous look Maddie shot at him was easy to read—she would never be settled in London.

“I am to be married sometime this summer, you know,” he said in answer. “I can’t very well have Eloise living here as well.”

“Then perhaps you shouldn’t have found me attractive,” she said smoothly, a hint of color returning to her cheeks. “Though I suppose it’s not uncommon for someone of your rank to promise yourself to someone and then throw yourself at someone else.”

Apparently she’d recovered from her fit of nerves. “I did not
throw
myself at you. I believe it was a mutual collision.”

A swiftly stifled grin touched her lips. “Don’t flatter yourself,” she said haughtily, as she freed her fingers from his and flounced past Beeks, the butler, and into the house.

“How can I possibly flatter myself, with you about?” Quin muttered at her back, before he followed her inside.

O
n her first and only stay in London, Maddie had been ecstatic. She had finally been able to see the famous places like Hyde Park, Bond Street, and the dark Tower of London—places she’d only heard about. Fabulous balls had been full of exciting, famous people who had treated her as an equal and claimed to be pleased to meet her.

And she had no desire to see any of those places or any of those people ever again.

“Miss Maddie, do you wish to change for luncheon?”

Maddie let the bedchamber curtains slide shut through her fingers, closing her off from the quiet view of elegant King Street. “I suppose I should.”

She was still unused to having someone to help her dress and do her hair, but neither did she want to refuse Mary’s help and cause the poor girl to be let go—no doubt exactly what Lord Warefield had anticipated. When she’d donned her new green and yellow silk gown, she glanced at the mantel clock and then reluctantly emerged from her bedchamber. Half a dozen servants nodded politely at her as she made her way downstairs to the dining room—where she stopped short.

The Duke of Highbarrow looked up from slicing a peach. “You’re still about?” he asked gruffly, and returned to his luncheon.

“Good afternoon, Your Grace.”

A footman hurried forward to pull out a chair, and rather than have the duke think her a coward, Maddie sat. His Grace rudely continued to ignore her, and she glanced about the room impatiently. Quin had said repeatedly that while in town the Bancrofts sat for luncheon precisely at one. So here she was, precisely at five minutes after one, when everyone else should have been there.

Another footman offered her a platter of fresh fruit, and with a grateful smile she selected a peach. Like everything else she’d seen in the house, it was perfect, round and golden. Maddie narrowed her eyes, imagining Quin’s perfect smile and his handsome and very late backside, and sliced the fruit in two.

She glanced sideways at Lewis Bancroft again. Now that he wasn’t bellowing at her and insulting her, she noticed that he was more heavyset than Malcolm, and that his dark brown hair was more generously tinged with silver about the temples. His complexion was ruddier, though Mr. Bancroft had been so pale over the past few weeks she’d been at Langley that she tended to think of that pallor as his natural coloring. And though she admitted that she might be prejudiced, she thought the duke’s expression much less kind than Malcolm’s.

“What are you staring at, girl?”

Maddie blinked. “I was looking for the resemblance between you and your brother, Your Grace.”

“Bah. Malcolm’s fortunate I still claim him as kin.”

“Perhaps, Your Grace, it is
you
who is fortun—”

Quin skidded into the doorway. “Good afternoon, Father, Miss Willits,” he said hurriedly, straightening his cravat and taking the seat opposite Maddie. “Apologies.
I was catching up on some correspondence and lost track of the time.”

The duke pinned him with annoyed brown eyes. “You’re staying here now, as well? What in damnation’s wrong with Whiting House?”

The marquis motioned for a cup of tea. “Nothing at all. I’ve merely decided to stay here for a few weeks.”

His Grace lowered his brow. “Why?”

“He’s keeping his word, as he was raised to do.” The duchess glided into the room to sit opposite her husband. “He can’t very well have Miss Willits at Whiting House. She needs a chaperon. And that would be me.”

“Absolute nonsense. She’s ruined already.”

Well, that was enough of that
. “I did not—”

“Perhaps so,” the marquis said mildly, glancing warningly at Maddie, “but I will proceed, with or without your assistance.”

“Without, I assure you.” The duke pushed away from the table and stood. “At the first sign of trouble, it will be without your mother’s assistance as well. And I don’t want the girl getting in my way. With you here, Quinlan, it’s too damned crowded already.”

You could fit the entire Fifth Regiment in this house and still have room for a cannon
. Seething, Maddie smiled brightly. “I will avoid you at every opportunity, Your Grace. You may be assured of that.”

Lord Highbarrow paused on his way out the door. “Absolute nonsense,” he repeated, and continued on his way.

“Please try to avoid antagonizing him,” Quin asked, looking at Maddie.

“He antagonizes me,” she protested.

“Still, it would be much easier if he was on our side, don’t you think?”

“Why should he be, my lord? There is nothing in this
to benefit him. Restoring me to society gains him absolutely nothing.”

“Let’s not begin this argument again, Maddie,” Quin grumbled.

“I agree,” the duchess contributed unexpectedly. “Lewis is not known for his patience. We must begin plans for your return to society without delay.” She drummed her fingers on the table. “Nothing formal to start with, of course,” she mused, eyeing Maddie with an uncomfortable intensity. “You should first be seen with me, so your coincidental connection to Quin doesn’t become the gossips’ primary focus.”

“I have no connection with Quin—Lord Warefield,” Maddie countered, the color rising in her cheeks.

“Shopping, I think,” the duchess continued, as though she hadn’t heard Maddie’s protest. “Very good. Yes. Bond Street, tomorrow morning.”

“But…I don’t need anything.” A wave of anguished nervousness suddenly made her fingers shake. People would see her. People who knew her.

“‘Need’ is not the reason one goes shopping on Bond Street. Being seen is the point of shopping on Bond Street. And so you shall be.”

“But—”

“My mother is correct,” Quin cut in. “This has to begin somewhere.” He reached for a slice of fresh bread. “Besides, everyone will be addressing their conversation to Her Grace, with this being her first time out in public since her return to London. I doubt you’ll have to say a word.” He glanced up at her, his green eyes dancing. “That may be the most difficult thing for you.”

“Oh, ha, ha,” Maddie smirked, nevertheless bolstered by his comments. He was undoubtedly correct, after all, for he knew much more about snobbery and etiquette than she ever cared to learn. “And what important task will be occupying your day then, my lord?”

“I have to see that Whiting House is opened.”

“My,” she said, opening her eyes wide in awe. “Really?”

He sternly pointed a finger at her. “Yes, it means I shall stand about all day ordering servants hither and thither. No doubt I shall be quite exhausted by evening.”

Lady Highbarrow cleared her throat delicately. “Not so exhausted that you can’t attend dinner with us at Lady Finch’s, I hope.”

The duchess eyed her son, then flicked her gaze back over to Maddie, who quickly wiped the look of horror from her face. “Oh, my. Dinner?”

“I wrote Evelyn last week and asked her to put together an intimate gathering for a few select friends.”

“Well, thank you, Mother,” Quin said, his tone surprised. A moment later he kicked Maddie under the table.

She jumped. “Yes, thank you, Your Grace,” she echoed, and kicked him back.

The Duke of Highbarrow skipped dinner that night, and instead went off to White’s to smoke cigars and play cards. Actually, he could probably stand to miss a few dinners, for recently he’d become rather gouty, which left him even more ill-tempered than usual.

Quin would have liked to visit one of his clubs as well, but Maddie, of course, couldn’t go anywhere, which also trapped his mother inside. So instead, the three of them played whist for several hours. Maddie had a natural cutthroat instinct for cards, which wasn’t surprising in the least. The real surprise of the evening was the duchess smiling—not once, but twice—at things Maddie said.

In the morning, Quin rode off to Whiting House as he’d said he would. Once there, he instructed Baker, his butler, to open the house, with the explanation that he
would be staying there from time to time, and would undoubtedly make use of it later in the Season. That accomplished, he swung back up on Aristotle and turned east for Bond Street.

His mother had been correct; if Maddie’s purportedly wronged and injured character was to be redeemed, it would never do for him—or any man—to be seen with her on her first day back among the London
ton
. But nothing said he couldn’t hang about in the shadows and make certain everything went well.

He left Aristotle and ten pence in the care of a young street urchin, and strolled up the crowded street in search of a new walking cane, which seemed the most logical thing for him to be looking for. It took nearly half an hour of aimless wandering before he spied the two women. The duchess emerged from a store, followed in succession by Maddie, four clerks carrying boxes, and Lady DeReese and Mrs. Oster. Quin dodged behind a parked barouche and peered over the top at them.

As he’d suspected, Maddie seemed to be of little interest to the two ladies in comparison with the esteemed Duchess of Highbarrow. Miss Willits stood a little to one side, clearly trying to look interested in the conversation, though just as clearly not. With her auburn hair glinting red in the sunlight, and her yellow silk gown showing off her lithe, slender figure, she was easily the most attractive lady on the street, if not in all of London.

He couldn’t believe her parents would attempt to lock such a sprite away, much less consider sending her to a convent! What a wasted life that would have been for such a vibrant creature. Nor did he think she could have been completely happy at Langley. As much as Uncle Malcolm thought of her and she of him, he would never have been able to convince her to leave if she hadn’t somehow truly wished it.

“Warefield!”

Quin started and looked up the street. “Danson,” he replied, nodding. “Didn’t know you were in London, yet.”

“Yes, well my creditors think I’m still in Cornwall,” Thomas Danson answered, clasping Quin’s hand. “It’s a bit early in the Season for you as well, isn’t it?”

Quin shrugged, hoping the ladies across the busy lane hadn’t noticed him or heard the conversation. “A bit. Had some business to attend to.”

Danson turned away to toy with his dark hair in the reflection of the bakery window. “I say, why don’t you buy me some luncheon at the Navy Club?”

With difficulty Quin kept from looking in Maddie’s direction. “Why not?” he said, hoping his reluctance didn’t show in his voice. He linked his arm through Thomas’s, keeping his companion between him and the ladies. He was far too old to be acting like a schoolboy, and far too close to being engaged to be mooning after Maddie Willits. That was what had gotten him into such trouble in the first place.

“When is Eloise due back in town?” Danson asked.

Quin risked one glance at Maddie, to find her staring at him, barely contained fury in her gray eyes. Quickly he looked away again, cursing to himself. “Tomorrow, I should think,” he answered, wondering how in the world he was going to explain himself this time.

Maddie would accuse him of spying, and she would be right. And he couldn’t very well say that he’d only been gawking at her, not spying, because then she would accuse him of finding her attractive again. Next she would throw his near-engagement to Eloise back in his face as a
coup de grâce
. “Eloise said her father intended to be here by the twelfth.”

“Have you made your declaration official yet?” Danson chuckled. “No, I don’t suppose you have. Hasn’t
been a full-page announcement in the
London Times
yet.”

“Please, nothing so tasteless as that. Half a page, at most.”

Belatedly it occurred to him that he owed someone else an explanation for his rather ramshackle behavior. Eloise Stokesley probably wouldn’t mind a stray kiss with a pretty, ruined girl in Somerset. Not nearly so much, anyway, as she would mind whatever madness had prompted him to take it upon himself to reintroduce Madeleine Willits into society. And he wasn’t certain he could explain it adequately anyway.

Quin sighed. As much damned trouble as Maddie was causing him, he supposed he shouldn’t be enjoying the entire debacle nearly as much as he was.

Maddie stood as close to the Duchess of Highbarrow as she could without tromping on the older woman’s gown, and looked about Lady Finch’s drawing room. Her Grace had declared their shopping expedition a success, leaving Maddie no excuses or protests to avoid the evening’s dinner soiree.

Actually, walking about and shopping had been easy compared with tonight. She’d never been privileged to travel in such high circles. Tonight she would be expected to behave like a meek, demure young lady who would never have done such a thing as allow a gentleman to kiss her or fondle her front in public. And yet, she’d made that same mistake twice, now. Maddie smiled politely as Lady Finch nodded at her.

The first time truly hadn’t been her fault, for she’d been caught by surprise by that snake Spenser. Slimy, wet, and cold—her first thought, before she realized she’d just been ruined, had been that she’d rather be kissed by a fish.

It was the second kiss that was becoming more trou
blesome by the moment, particularly as Quin refused to abandon her. She’d known that morning exactly what was going to happen—blast it all, she’d even encouraged it, wanted it, and relished it.

Maddie glanced across the room. Tall and handsome, Quinlan stood chatting with a few friends. He looked completely at ease, completely in his element, charming and witty and not a bit self-conscious. She hadn’t been so close to hating him since he’d first appeared at Langley.

All afternoon she’d been looking for a chance to confront him on following her about like a spy. But all afternoon, obviously knowing he was in for a severe tongue lashing, he’d avoided her. And she couldn’t very well have brought it up during the coach ride to Lady Finch’s—not with the duchess there, reciting what she should and shouldn’t do during the soiree.

Staring at Quin was one of the things she’d been directly told to avoid, but she was completely unable to resist several scowls and a glower. Shouting and hitting would have been much more satisfying. Almost as satisfying as kissing him again.