Formidable Lord Quentin (15 page)

Lady Danecroft rubbed the toddler’s back. “The twins used to
eat green apples every spring. I had to ask questions and learn or just
strangle them to put them out of their misery. I fear our nursemaid is still
inexperienced. I’m sorry Nanny Mary had to abandon us this week to see to her
ill sister. When she returns, I’ll ask if she knows anyone else as skilled as
she is with little ones.”

They had sent the young nursemaid back to bed once Beebee
quieted. Tess lingered with the countess, rocking Beebee and the earl’s heir in
their cradles until they slumbered soundly.

“Would it be dreadfully impolite of me not to return to the
company?” Tess asked. “I know your cook must be miffed to have his splendid
meal so rudely overset.”

The countess laughed. “We usually let the children dine with
us. And Fitz runs to the stables in the middle of the meal if one of his mares
is foaling. Our staff is rural and pragmatic and expect such interruptions.
Shall I have a maid bring up your pudding so you don’t miss out?”

“Send Syd up with it, perhaps. She shouldn’t be left alone,
unless Bell has returned downstairs.” Tess hoped Bell had been able to settle
Kit down. She hadn’t heard any more wails from the schoolroom.

The countess sighed. “I dread going back down to that woman,
but poor Lord Quentin shouldn’t be left to her clutches. I’ll keep an eye on
your sister if she isn’t quite ready to retire.”

Lady Danecroft fluttered off, leaving Tess to the darkened
nursery and the two sleeping infants.

It was obvious that Kit and Beebee would never fit into
Bell’s sophisticated household. Tess had only just begun to realize how much
Bell had sacrificed by marrying the elderly marquess to save their father from
debtor’s prison. She’d always considered Bell happily married and been jealous
of her easy life. Instead, Tess understood now that her sister had given up her
youth, her love, and apparently the chance for children by marrying a man who
had turned into a miserable old miser.

She simply couldn’t let Bell sacrifice the lovely life she
had earned the hard way.

When Syd arrived bearing a cream pudding studded with
blackberries, Tess led her sister back to their shared chambers. Shutting the
door, she set the pudding aside. “Does that witch have her claws in Lord
Quentin yet?”

Syd grimaced. “He left early, saying he must pack and leave
in the morning on business. I vow, if Lady Frosty-Frou knew where he was going,
she would ride after him. You don’t stand a chance against her.”

“Not if I play by the rules,” Tess agreed. “Anything Bell
might grant me as dowry could not compare to the jewels she was dripping tonight.
And it’s obvious they knew each other quite well at one time.”

“You always play by the rules,” Syd said scornfully. “Lady
Camilla does not. I overheard her telling Lady Anne that she should arrange to
be caught in a compromising position with some gentleman Lady Anne fancies if
she wants to catch him, that he’d
have
to marry her then. What if I do that to Lord Quentin? Then you could come
running to my rescue and Bell would make him marry me.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. You don’t want to marry yet, and Bell
would most likely shoot Lord Quentin and lock you in a nunnery. Do they still
have nunneries here?” Tess mused, while her thoughts ran rampant. Compromising
position? She could do that.

“I don’t think Anglicans have nunneries,” Syd said
dejectedly. “Bell is far more likely to send me to a school with ice baths than
to a nunnery.”

“But she can’t send
me
to school,” Tess said. “And if Lord Quentin’s father will take me in, if Bell
throws me out, I’m the most obvious candidate.”

Syd looked at her in disbelief. “Candidate for what?”

“Being compromised,” Tess replied, thinking quickly. “We’ll
never have a better opportunity. This is a time for doing, not plotting. Here,
help me out of this gown.”

***

Expecting Penrose, Quent answered the knock on his bedchamber
door without thinking.

Bell’s widowed young sister swept past him wearing the
barest wisp of a robe and gown. “Lord Danecroft failed to include the best
candidate for your wife on his list, my lord,” she announced as she entered.
“He can be forgiven, I suppose, since he has not had time to know me.”

Leaving the door open, Quent leaned against the jamb and
folded his arms. “Did Bell set you up to this?”

“Bell?” She lifted her fine dark eyebrows in surprise. “Of
course not. She thinks I’m a child. I’m not. I’ve come to prove that.”

“Have you now? I’ll still send Kit off to school no matter
how you work your wiles. He needs discipline, and you can’t provide it.” Quent
gestured toward the open doorway. “I think you’d best leave before you cause
untold numbers of problems for all of us. We’ll discuss Kit’s schooling at a
better time.”

“We’re not talking about Kit.” She stamped her slipper.

Quent had no interest in Tess’s feet. Had she been Bell,
however . . . He stopped that thought before it hit the gutter.
“We’re not talking at all, not here, not now. You’re leaving, if I have to pick
you up and remove you. Perhaps Bell did not explain. I am not a gentleman.”

“Of course you’re a gentleman,” she said with a casual wave.
“But I am not a lady. Close the door and let me show you.”

Quent rolled his eyes and crossed the room to catch Tess’s
elbow. “Out, now.” One hand on her barely-clad arm, the other pushing at her
spine, he shoved her impolitely in the direction of the door.

She wriggled and fought and cried out before Quent had the
presence of mind to catch on.

By then, it was too late.

A horrified audience had gathered in the doorway.

***

After putting Kit back in the care of the servants, Bell
dragged herself down the stairs to her bedchamber. The uncomplicated rural
visit she had planned had degenerated into a nightmare. She wasn’t certain how
she would manage so many unfamiliar problems on her own—but sending Kit off to
school was not a solution. Clobbering Quent over his arrogant head would
provide satisfaction but wasn’t the answer either.

Hearing feminine voices emerging from the gentlemen’s wing,
she frowned. Surely that was not Syd shouting in such an unladylike fashion?
She truly did not need another outburst of unseemly behavior from her siblings
this evening.

She peered around the corner and saw Lady Camilla—wearing a
robe and little else—arguing with a furious Syd, who appeared to be blocking a
doorway. A bemused Lady Anne looked on. Where was Tess?

Bell froze when she heard Quent’s voice raised in anger. He
never lost his temper. Was that
his
room the ladies had gathered around? What on earth . . .?

And was that Tess’s high-pitched, nervous voice coming from
inside his chamber?

None of the scenarios Bell’s creative mind conjured were
pretty. Experienced in house party shenanigans, she tested the latch in the
nearest door. These old houses were like rabbit warrens with their
interconnected rooms. The long corridor was a later addition, if she was lucky.

She held her candle up to the empty room she entered and
found an interior door. It opened with a squeak, taking her into an
antechamber. The door on the next wall led to a small bedchamber intended for a
servant. Quent had brought none. She pressed her ear against the next door and
heard Tess more clearly.

“Of course he wasn’t forcing me,” Tess cried in indignation.
“Lord Quentin is a gentleman. We were having a quarrel, that is all.”

Bell wanted to slap her sister, then shake her, but that
would have to wait. As would explanations. Tess in Quent’s room would be the
gossip of all London, ruining her sister’s chances of a good match—and Quent’s
reputation as well. He placed a great deal of pride in his honesty and
integrity. Those were the qualities people of the highest sort respected. Being
deemed a rakehell who ruined young women would cost him immense amounts of
business.

Being a man sampling the wares of a bored widow would merely
gain him approval.

And as a titled, wealthy widow with no intention of marrying
again—Bell had little to lose in comparison to Tess, who had a child to think
about.

Thinking quickly, Bell dropped her shawl over an old dresser
and untied the ribbons of her bodice, letting the sleeve fall loosely off her
shoulder. She’d kicked off her too-tight shoes earlier. Now, she stripped off
her stockings. She couldn’t reach her back fastenings, so that was the best she
could do in haste.

Opening the interior door into Quent’s masculine chamber, Bell
covered her mouth in an exaggerated yawn and stepped into the weak candlelight
to get her bearings. Tess was the only one visible. She startled, then had the
grace to look guilty.

The massive tester bed draped in blue curtains blocked any
sight of the doorway, but she could see the angry stiffness of Quent’s
shirt-clad back separating Tess from their audience.

Wickedly, Bell crawled up on the bed’s velvet counterpane
and peered through the draperies. “What on earth is the commotion, Quentin,
dear? Is the house on fire?”

Quent swung around looking quite marvelously stunned. That
instant of shock and discomposure from the eminently assured gentleman was
almost worth whatever happened next. She’d forgotten how much fun it was to
shock people. With a surge of laughter she hadn’t experienced in much too long,
she almost anticipated Camilla’s dropped jaw.

Obviously, her life had been in danger of becoming too dull.
With a seductive smile just for Quent, Bell swung her bare legs from the bed.
Quent’s gaze instantly dropped to her ankles, and she rewarded him by pulling
her gown up a little before she slid off the bed and walked out where their
audience could see her.

“Hello, dears. Did our family squabble disturb you?”

Oh, yes, that was just the dropped-jaw effect she’d hoped to
see. Although Bell suspected Lady Anne was hiding a smile as she stepped back
to enjoy the show.

“I’m so sorry if we woke you,” Bell continued, narrowing her
eyes to study the intruders. “Although, really, Lady Camilla, I cannot
understand why you’d be interested. Is that dressing gown from Edinburgh? I’ve
never seen anything quite so . . . practical.”

The dowager countess pulled her velvet robe closed over her
ample bosom with a huff. Her angry glare said she wasn’t buying Bell’s charade.

But whatever plans the lady had made for Quent had been
permanently disabled. Bell barely hid her triumph.

Catching Tess’s shoulder from behind, Bell gently shoved her
sister toward the doorway. “Save your histrionics for when we’re home, please.
I’m aware we haven’t discussed how Quent will fit into our little family, but
surely we need not do so tonight. Say good evening and take Syd with you,
please.” She squeezed Tess’s shoulder reassuringly, warning her not to protest.

Syd started to speak, but Quent had apparently dragged his
mind back from Bell’s ankle and to the matter at hand. “No more outbursts, Lady
Sydony. Your sister and I delayed making the announcements because of your
arrival. I see no further reason for delay. You’re disturbing the other guests.
Good-night.” He pointed sternly at the door.

Bell didn’t know whether to laugh, run after her stricken
sisters, or smack Quentin for escalating her charade to the next level of
announcements.
“Really, life has been so
unbearably tedious until now,” she drawled, following her sisters and giving
them hugs. “I anticipate circuses and operas hereafter. Off you go, now. You,
too, Lady Camilla. So sorry to disappoint, but the show is over.” Bell winked
at Lady Anne. “Horses aren’t as entertaining, are they?”

Lady Anne’s lips quivered in amusement, but she simply shook
her head and led her furious guest away. Aping Quent’s gesture, Bell pointed at
the corridor when her sisters turned with pleading glances. “In the morning,”
she commanded.

Before she could even shut the door, Quent circled her waist
and dragged her backward.

“Since we are apparently affianced, my
dear,
” he whispered mockingly, “shall we continue where we left off
earlier?”

Quent didn’t know what the devil had just happened or why.
He simply knew he finally had Bell where he wanted her. Why think further? He’d
thank her sisters later.

He slammed the bolt home on the door, then wrapped his arms
around the lady’s supple waist and lifted her beautiful mouth to meet his. Her
lily-of-the-valley perfume wrapped his head in spring. Her pliant figure molded
to his. And her kiss . . . sapped all his brains from his skull.

Her lithe tongue tangled boldly with his. Nearly undone by
this unanticipated surrender, he staggered backward until he had the sturdy bed
to support his suddenly weak knees. She was Eve and Delilah and every wanton
woman known to mankind, all wrapped in one intriguing package. And he wanted
her . . .
now
.

Her smooth fingers slid beneath the open neck of his shirt,
massaging his shoulders while her mouth dissolved his will. He’d known Bell hid
a well of repressed passion. He hadn’t anticipated the powerfully seductive
result of liberating her inhibitions.

Quent dragged her down into the bed with him until they lay
sprawled across the mattress, their legs entwined. He found the untied ribbons
of her bodice and slid his fingers beneath the silk. “Do you have any idea how
I felt when I saw you crawling out of my bed?” he murmured, moving his mouth to
her ear and down her throat.

She gasped and wriggled, then ran her hand boldly over his
shirt. “Cheated?” she asked teasingly.

“Not even half of it.” He jerked her sleeve down so he could
release her breast, but her chemise defeated him. Planting kisses anywhere he
dared, he began untying ribbons. “You made me feel like one of my blue-painted
ancestors. I wanted to slay dragons and drag you back to my lair and have my
way with you. Repeated times.”