By Love Undone (20 page)

“Everything. Quinlan’s assisting her as a point of honor. He wants her to be able to marry well, as though she had never been ruined five years ago—or so he says. I’m even hosting the darling for luncheon this afternoon.” She sighed distastefully. “If you publicly forgive her for her misbehavior, you will make the eventuality of a good marriage possible for her.”

“And?”

“And I will pay you one thousand pounds for your efforts.”

Slowly he smiled. “My, you do want Warefield badly. But isn’t he worth more than a thousand quid?”

“Yes, but
she
isn’t.”

Dunfrey sat back and crossed his arms. “She
was
.”

Eloise’s perfect brow furrowed. “Beg pardon?”

“Her father, Halverston, was ready to give me three thousand quid to take her off five years ago.”

“Seems to me that he would have given you even more to marry her
after
she was ruined.”

“My thought exactly. Until the damned chit fled into the night.”

She looked at him for a long moment, a slow smile spreading across her face. “You did it on purpose.”

Dunfrey shrugged. “Odd bird like her, why not squeeze her father for a little more blunt to compensate me for the embarrassment?”

“Except it didn’t work,” Eloise surmised. “She ran off before you could suggest the solution to Halverston.”

“No great loss. Patricia Giles’s father gave me a property in York to make her my bride.”

“You sold it off eight months ago, as I recall.”

She’d obviously been looking into his personal finances. Which meant she knew that a thousand pounds would hold off the hawks for only a month or so, damn her. He needed a good five or six thousand just to make it through the year and give him any sort of foothold on recovering his financial standing. Dunfrey stood and walked over to the window. “I wonder,” he mused, half to himself.

“Wonder what?”

“Are her parents in London?”

Eloise shook her head. “I believe they’re expected in a week or so. Why—oh, my,” she breathed. She pulled her gloves on again and stood. “Whatever you do with her, I don’t care. I simply want her away from Warefield. And if you do that, you’ll have my gratitude.”

“And your thousand quid,” he reminded her.

“And my thousand quid. Good hunting, Mr. Dunfrey.”

“The same to you, Lady Stokesley.”

“I don’t want to go.”

Quin stood in the doorway of Maddie’s bedchamber, where he seemed to be spending a great deal of his time lately. “We were invited.”

“You’re her betrothed. I’m already having tea this afternoon with Lady Ashton. You go. I’ll stay and have luncheon with Rafe.”

The marquis frowned. “I’m not her betrothed—yet. And Rafe’s going with us.”
Whether he wants to or not
. “Be downstairs in five minutes, Maddie, or I’ll carry you down.”

Quin strode down the hallway to the billiards room, where Rafael was playing a game against himself. The marquis paused watching him for a moment. “Back in London after a year, and you stay in your parents’ house and play billiards? Alone? You?”

Rafe glanced up at him, then made another superb shot. “I’m just daft. Ignore me.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Things were just…getting a bit sticky in Africa. I needed a rest.”

Quin leaned his hands against the billiards table. “What’s wrong, Rafael?” he repeated.

His brother shrugged. “Nothing. Really. And I think you have enough to worry about without my adding to the confusion.”

“And just what do I have to worry about?”

“Like what excuse you’re going to think up this year to delay marrying Eloise.”

“I
am
going to marry Eloise this year.”

Rafe eyed him distastefully. “Why?”

“Because I gave my word. And because she’ll make
a fine wife.” Quin took a stroll about, the room. “And it wasn’t an excuse before; the properties in Cornwall needed to be signed over, and I had to be there.”

“Mm-hm.”

“What?”

Rafael nudged a ball across the table. “You had the right idea last year,” he muttered, then looked up again. “Quin—”

“Oh, shut up.” Quin frowned at him. “And go change. You’re going with us to luncheon.”

“I most certainly am not.”

“Yes, you are.”

“My memories of Africa are becoming fonder by the moment, you know.”

“Look. Maddie’s after any excuse to avoid going back into society. You’re her latest. She says you’re lonely, and she wants to stay and have luncheon with you. So I told her you were coming with us.”

Rafe leaned on his cue stick, his expression brightening considerably. “She wants to spend time with me? I’m flattered. Perhaps I’ll take her on a picnic.”

“No!” Quin said, too sharply. “Just go change, will you?”

His brother tossed the stick onto the table and strolled out the door. “Fine. I’ll attend for Maddie’s sake—not for yours.”

Quin looked after him. He and Rafael had always gotten along exceedingly well, probably because not much bothered the easygoing younger Bancroft. At the moment, though, he wished his brother back in Africa—anywhere, in fact, except where Rafe and Maddie could become acquainted.

By the time his two reluctant companions came downstairs, he was ready to wish himself somewhere else as well. While Maddie looked lovely in a dark gray gown, she glowered daggers at him. Rafe, on the other hand,
had donned his dress uniform, gold-trimmed red and black, and far too formal for anything less than a grand ball.

“Rafe,” he complained.

“You look lovely,” Maddie told his brother, obviously recognizing a fellow rebellious spirit.

“Why, thank you, Maddie. I think it brings out my eyes.” He fluttered his lashes seductively at her as they went outside.

She laughed. “Oh, definitely. You’ll be the belle of the luncheon.”

“Get in the damned carriage,” Quin growled.

“You don’t need to order me about.” Maddie glared at him once more, then plunked herself down on the barouche seat.

“Don’t expect me to feel guilty,” Quin retorted, stepping in front of Rafe to take the seat beside her. “This is for your well-being, not mine.”

“I remain unconvinced.” She leaned forward and tapped Rafe’s polished black Wellington boot with one finger. “You don’t actually go into battle looking this splendid, do you?”

“Heavens, no.” He sat back in the seat. “The dress uniform is only for surrenders, victories, and parties.”

“Then why are you wearing it now?” Quin asked, cutting in on Maddie’s pointed admiration.

Rafael shrugged. “I figure I’ll be declaring either the first or the second before the afternoon is over.”

Quin frowned, disgruntled. “You could at least make an attempt to get along with Eloise. I don’t know why you decided to dislike her, anyway.”

“I believe the feeling is mutual.”

“Why
don’t
you like her?” Maddie whispered.

“Oh, no. None of that,” Quin protested. “I’m working hard enough to stop the gossip about you without
your participating in spreading groundless rumors about other people.”

Maddie folded her arms and scooted as far away from him as she could. “You are a big bully.”

Quin didn’t much like that, but he wasn’t certain what to do about it. He realized sitting and conversing with Eloise couldn’t be easy for Maddie, and he didn’t want her becoming defensive before they’d even arrived.

“We’ve arrived, my lord,” Claymore said, from the high driver’s perch.

He took a deep breath. “All right, then.”

This time Rafe was quicker, and he helped Maddie to the ground while Quin stewed behind them. He caught up and took Maddie’s other arm. “Might I have a word with you?”

“What are you going to warn me about now?” she asked, but released Rafe’s arm and stopped to look at him.

“Nothing. I….” He reached out and straightened a strand of her auburn hair. “I just want you to like her,” he said quietly.

She met his gaze. “Why do you care?”

“Because I do.”

The front doors of Stokesley House opened. The butler emerged, followed by Eloise in a patterned green gown that admirably showed off her tall, slender figure.

“Quin,” she exclaimed, and held out her hands to him.

He took them. “Eloise, you remember Miss Willits?”

“Of course.” Eloise shook Maddie’s hand warmly. “I’m so pleased to be able to help you. And I can’t believe Mr. Lumley would dare speak to you that way.”

“Thank you,” Maddie said, her expression noncommittal.

Quin pointed at his brother, who stood observing an
oak tree with apparent fascination. “And my brother, of course.”

Eloise glided past him to lead the way into the house. “Rafael,” she said smoothly, barely glancing at him. “You look as though you’re dressed for a funeral.”

Rafael gave a lazy salute and followed her inside. “You know me, ever hopeful.”

Maddie’s lips twitched, and she leaned closer to Quin. “Why don’t they like one another?” she whispered, her breath soft and warm against his cheek.

“I’m really not certain,” he returned in the same tone, relieved and grateful that she seemed to have forgotten her anger at him. “Rafe claims to have reason, but he’s never explained it to me. Eloise won’t talk about him. Whatever it was, it apparently happened shortly after Rafe returned from Waterloo.” He shrugged. “Politics, perhaps.”

She looked sideways at him, but at least she didn’t disagree with him aloud. In truth, he hadn’t a clue. He had merely been hoping that whatever it was, it would go away before the wedding.

“Miss Willits,” Eloise said as their party headed through the library and out to the small garden, “did you have any particular friends we might induce to come calling on you, now that you’ve returned?”

Maddie shook her head. “No.”

“Oh, come now,” Eloise coaxed with a smile. “Not one?”

“There is no one whose acquaintance I would care to renew,” she said flatly. “Or to recall.”

Eloise looked at her for a moment. “My goodness.” She turned to Quin. “This makes things rather difficult, don’t you think?”

Maddie’s expression shifted from defiance to humiliation, and Quin stifled an unexpected spark of anger at Eloise. She had to know Maddie might be sensitive
about this, and she was generally more tactful than that. “Not really,” he answered her, turning from regarding Maddie. “I wouldn’t want friends that fickle, either.”

Eloise looked as though she wanted to say something, but instead she gestured them to sit at the table settled in the shade of an elm. “We’ll need one more place set,” she informed a footman, who hurried off.

“You must tell me all about your adventures after you left London,” Eloise urged Maddie, as she took her own seat.

“I don’t really consider them adventures, Lady Stokesley. I—”

“Oh, please call me Eloise. I feel as though we are practically family.”

Maddie looked skeptical, but smiled. “All right, Eloise.”

“I’d be happy to tell you all about my adventures in Africa,” Rafe broke in, helping himself to a glass of Madeira.

Eloise looked over at him coldly. “Yes, Rafael, how many native girls did you bugg—”

“You know, Maddie,” Quin interrupted hurriedly, surprised at the venom in Eloise’s voice, “there’s no reason we have to do this all at once. We’d be wiser to feel our way slowly, I think.”

Maddie looked at him quizzically. “I wish you’d said that before you threw me to the wolves at the opera.”

“I didn’t thr—”

“You’re right, Quin,” Eloise agreed. “I thought we might begin with a luncheon, the day after tomorrow. Just a few of my particular friends would be invited. And then a picnic in the country, you know, with a few more friends, yours and mine.”

“Yes, that would be excellent,” Quin agreed, ignoring Maddie’s glare at being excluded from the plans. “I
think my mother was being a bit ambitious with the opera last evening.”

“The waters had to be tested.” Eloise motioned impatiently at the waiting footmen to serve lunch.

“And they were full of sharks,” Maddie muttered.

Rafe chuckled, lifting an eyebrow at Eloise when she sniffed distastefully. Whatever antagonism was between them had gotten decidedly worse, and Quin had every intention of finding out what was going on.

Then he looked at Maddie, uncharacteristically quiet as she watched Eloise out of the corner of her eye. He might be curious about Rafe and Eloise, but Maddie came first, he decided—not caring to question why her predicament, and her happiness, had become so important to him.

“G
ood Lord, that’s frightening.” Maddie laughed, her voice and expression delighted.

Quin looked up. Rafael leaned around the corner of the stable, a native African mask pulled down over his face, striking in contrast with his blue coat and black breeches.

Rafe took it off. “I believe it’s supposed to be the Zulu god of rain. Perhaps he’s meant to scare the droplets out of the sky. Quite effective, I imagine.” Rafe strolled into the stable and hung the mask on a bridle peg. “You’re going riding?”

Quin swung up onto Aristotle before the gelding could escape to greet his former owner. “Yes, we are,” he said shortly, tired of his brother’s uncanny ability to sense whenever he wanted to spend time alone with Maddie. “See you in a bit.”

Maddie looked at him curiously. Not wanting to give away his thoughts, he turned his attention to adjusting Aristotle’s reins. She’d been subdued all yesterday afternoon, which had caused him to spend the evening wondering whether he’d done the right thing in turning her over to Eloise. With his mother forbidden from assisting, though, his cousin was the only other choice.

His almost-betrothed certainly knew the correct people, as did he—but once he thought about it, not many of them actually seemed like anyone Maddie would want to be acquainted with. And yesterday Eloise had been sharp-tongued and out of sorts. Perhaps Rafe’s presence had rattled her usually calm demeanor, but the whole venture was becoming a damned nuisance. Things had been much simpler before he’d traveled to Langley Hall—before he’d encountered Maddie Willits.

He glanced at her slender figure as his brother helped her into the sidesaddle. “How do you like Honey?” he asked, indicating the spirited chestnut mare.

Maddie smiled “She’s wonderful. I’m going to teach her to come when I whistle.”

“You’re not supposed to whistle,” he pointed out, pleased that she approved of the mare.

“Mind if I tag along?” Rafe asked.

Quin, trying to hide his annoyance, turned the restless Aristotle in a circle. “Yes.”

“My thanks, brother.” Rafe motioned at the head groom. “Wedders? Saddle me a beast, will you? Unless you’ll let me ride Aristotle, Quin,” he suggested with a sly smile at his brother.

“Absolutely not.”

The three of them headed out to Hyde Park, which sparkled with dewdrops in the cool morning sun. Rafael flanked Maddie on one side, while Quin commandeered the other. No doubt they looked ridiculous, like dogs after the same bone. But at this time of day there were few others about who would notice.

After a few moments of silence, Quin cleared his throat. “This early in the morning, I doubt anyone would see if the three of us found a hollow and became acquainted.”

Maddie looked startled, then rolled her eyes. “Oh, not that nonsense again.”

“
What
?” Rafe roared. “Are you completely jolter-headed? Apologize!”

Quin kept his attention on Maddie. “No.”

“Leave me alone,” Maddie snapped. “I’m trying to enjoy myself.”

“The two of us together would be much more enjoyable.”

“Quin!” Rafe bellowed, surprisingly sounding a great deal like their father.

Quin glanced sideways at him. Just about any lady was fair game for Rafe, and it was unlike him to be so protective.

“Don’t make me clobber you,” Maddie warned, looking as though she very much wanted to.

“You can’t go about pummeling everyone who insults you.” He leaned closer. “And it
will
happen again—unless you’d rather surrender to the Edward Lumleys of the world,” he pressed, knowing she wouldn’t be able to ignore the challenge.

“Of course not. But I doubt he’ll be insulting me again, anyway.”

Rafe looked from one to the other of them. “What the devil is going on?”

“Anti-rake training,” Maddie informed him.

“Anti—are you mad, Quin?”

“Oh, shut up,” Quin grumbled, attempting to ignore his unhelpful sibling. “Of course Lumley will continue insulting you. Not to your face, perhaps, but any other time he can. And that will hurt you far more than if you’d disposed of him in the proper manner.”

“With a pistol?” she suggested.

Rafael burst into laughter, and she grinned back at him. Quin didn’t find it amusing at all.

“Rafe, go away,” he suggested through clenched teeth.

“Oh, all right,” his brother sighed, no doubt sensing
Quin was ready to knock him out of the saddle. He kicked his gray gelding into a trot, heading across the park toward Rotten Row. “Let me know if I need to avenge your honor, Maddie.”

She continued to glare at Quin. “That was mean, Warefield.”

“Maddie, this is serious. I want you to be able to hold your head up here.”

Her expression hurt, she looked away. “I
can
hold my head up here. I didn’t do anything wrong.”

He reached out and caught Honey’s bridle. “I know that.”

When he’d planned this anti-rake training, the difficulty had not been in coming up with suggestive situations. Rather it had been in finding ways to word them so as not to give away his feelings toward her. And it wasn’t getting any easier.

“You don’t have much of a choice about it, darling. You’re going to hear stupid, insulting things. You’re ruined, remember? So answer me in kind.”

She scowled, her eyes glinting. “All right, Warefield. If I were as glib as you seem to think yourself, I would certainly be able to come up with something much more clever than that with which to insult me
—darling
.”

Quin nodded. “A passable riposte.”

She looked at him sideways, her expression still dark and angry. “I wasn’t joking.” Maddie wrenched the bridle free of his grip. “And I’d still rather lay you out as flat as Lumley.”

“I might let you, if you’d join me there.”

She closed her eyes. “I doubt there’d be room for two, what with your swelled head, my lord.”

He stifled a grin. “It’s not my head that’s swelling.”

Maddie blushed, then lifted her chin. “You have a better chance of getting acquainted with your horse than you do with me.”

She wasn’t shy—that was for damned certain. “You can’t respond by saying something more suggestive than what I said to you.”

“Oh, so now there are rules?”

“Of course there are—”

“Warefield?”

Lord Avery rode toward them, a smile on his doughy face. Unwilling to have poor, dull-witted Peter face to face with Maddie at her most spirited, he wheeled Aristotle around. “I’ll be right back. Don’t go anywhere.”

“‘Don’t go anywhere,’” Maddie mimicked imperiously. “As if a lady would wait about for further insults.” Immediately she turned her mare to look for Rafael. She spied him after a moment, surrounded by at least a dozen ladies in carriages, and hesitated. “I don’t think so,” she said to herself, nervous at the crowd, and headed instead for the nearly deserted Ladies’ Mile.

Admittedly, their last exchange had been somewhat amusing, but sometimes she absolutely hated Quin Bancroft. He always believed he knew what was best for her, whether she agreed or not. And unbearably self-righteous, he never had anything pleasant, or comforting, or sweet, or romantic to say to her.

Maddie blinked and drew Honey up short.
Romantic?
Where in the world had that come from? Even if she did like him, even if she happened to be desperately fond of him, he would never consider marriage with someone like her.
A ruined chit—
that was what he’d called her—and that was precisely what she was. But Quin….

Despite all her efforts, and even though he was stupidly stubborn and probably took in stray cats and dogs just because he felt sorry for them, all of her dreams and imaginings seemed to center around him. Not even attractive, easygoing, unattached Rafael stirred her pulse and made her heart pound like Quin did.

Maddie looked down at her hands. It was completely
absurd, for her to fall for the Marquis of Warefield simply because he happened to be the first young, handsome gentleman of her own social status who’d been kind to her, both before and after he’d discovered her identity. And when they kissed, the attraction was certainly mutual. But then again, perhaps he was only being polite. If he was one thing, Quinlan Ulysses Bancroft was unfailingly polite.

She sent the chestnut along the quiet track, enjoying the sensation of actually being alone for once. It had been a long time since she’d been able to do much of anything without Quin barking at her heels.

“My…my God!”

Maddie yanked hard on the reins, dragging the mare to a halt. All the blood drained from her face, and suddenly she couldn’t breathe. She knew that voice—and she’d hoped never to hear it again. Her eyes closed. She couldn’t even look.

“Maddie? Maddie Willits? Is it you?”

At the sound of a horse approaching, Maddie took an uneven breath and opened her eyes again. “Charles,” she faltered.

Charles Dunfrey looked the same as she remembered—tall, dark-haired, and exceedingly handsome. His brown eyes gazed at her in obvious astonishment, his square, chiseled jaw hanging open. “It
is
you. I can hardly believe it!”

Neither could she. “Ex…excuse me,” she managed, and yanked the chestnut’s reins around with shaking fingers.

“Don’t go. Please. Please.”

Hesitating, Maddie turned to look at him again, at his hopeful, earnest expression, and tried to ignore the tide of emotions tumbling her about.
He
had turned
her
away five years ago. He hadn’t even wanted to hear her explain. She should be angry—not ill and lightheaded with
nervousness. “What do you want, Mr. Dunfrey?”

“I thought I’d never see you again.” Charles guided his mount a few slow steps closer, as though he were afraid she might bolt.

“That was what you intended, I believe,” she said stiffly, groping for anger, indignation, bitterness—anything to bolster her flagging courage.

He shook his head. “No. I was angry—furious. But when you…left, I….” Charles looked down, then met her gaze again. “I had a lot of time to think about things, Maddie.”

“So did I.”

“I….” he began again, then trailed off. “Good Lord, I’m just so surprised to see you, I don’t know what to say. Please, tell me you’re not still angry. Might…might I call on you tomorrow? Are you staying with your parents?”

“No. They…I’m staying at Bancroft House, as a guest of the Duchess of Highbarrow. My parents don’t know I’m here.”

“At Bancroft House?” He reached out as though he wanted to touch her hand where she tightly clutched the reins. At the last moment he stopped himself. “Might I call on you there?”

Again she hesitated, completely unnerved. “Yes. Yes, if you wish.”

“Thank you.” With a last glance at her, he turned and rode away.

Maddie couldn’t stop shaking. She’d dreaded that meeting for so long, and it had been nothing at all like she had imagined. Nothing.

“What in damnation did
he
want?”

Quin looked like a knight ready to charge into battle for his distressed damsel. His green eyes glinting and narrowed, he glared at Charles Dunfrey’s retreating back.

Maddie shook herself. “Nothing.”

Quin looked sideways at her, his jaw tight and angry. “‘Nothing?’” he repeated. “You spent a long time discussing nothing, then.”

“I think he wanted to apologize.”

“Apo—” He snapped his mouth shut and looked after Charles again. “And you let him just apologize? After what he did to you? To your reputation?”

A small thrill ran down her spine. He was jealous—over her. “It would make things much easier for me—don’t you think?—if Charles and I were to reconcile?”

“Yes…I suppose it would,” he agreed, with supreme reluctance.

She nodded. “He’s going to call on me tomorrow, at Bancroft House.”

He glanced at her again, then away, and she could fairly hear his teeth grinding. “Fine. Splendid.” Quin wrenched Aristotle around. “Let’s go. Where’s my damned brother?”

Quin knew his mood had deepened beyond foul when, less than five minutes after their return from Hyde Park, both Maddie and Rafe deserted him to find the duchess and challenge her to a game of piquet.

Damn Charles Dunfrey, anyway. And damn Maddie, for of course being right about a reconciliation between them. He could toil all summer in an attempt to repair the damage to her reputation, yet Dunfrey could smile at her once in public and do the same.

There was no use denying it any longer, though the very idea made him want to smash some very expensive breakables. He didn’t just want Maddie to be restored to society;
he
wanted to be the one to do it. He wanted her to be grateful to
him
. He wanted her to need him—and to love him as much as he did her.

His heart pounding, Quin leaned back against the wall
and stared at the closed door to the drawing room where they sat. Where she sat.

Sweet Lucifer, he
loved
her. Of all the idiotic things he’d ever thought or done in his entire life, this was the worst. Even if she hadn’t been rained, Madeleine Willits was no one with whom he could consider anything more serious than an affair. And at the moment, he would have been happy—ecstatic—to have that.

He could hear the three of them in the drawing room, laughing and chatting while they played cards. Even the duchess had warmed to Maddie. Yesterday she’d accompanied Miss Willits to Lady Ashton’s, practically daring His Grace to comment. And she’d convinced the duke to delay sending word to Malcolm that they were returning his disgraceful companion to Langley posthaste.

“What are you moping about now?”

Quin jumped, straightening. “I’m not moping,” he said stiffly, as the duke emerged from his office, a fistful of papers in one hand. “I’m deciding.”

“Deciding what?” His Grace asked skeptically.

Whether to tell Maddie how I feel about her
. “Whether I should plan for a summer wedding or an autumn one,” he said instead, remembering Eloise and their twenty-three-year agreement with a kind of detached horror. He looked at his father, seeing the swiftly masked surprise on his stern face.