A Lord Rotheby's Holiday Bundle (19 page)

“
I’m sure,” Quin said with
more than a hint of disdain from behind her, “that my choice in
bride meets with your approval.”

Lord Rotheby glanced over
at Quin for only a moment before returning to his inspection of
Aurora. “You’re certain of that, eh? And do you think you will be
able to keep her in line? First there was the incident at the ball,
though I daresay you are as much to blame as she for that. But then
this morning, I read in the
Haut Monde
Gazette
about a lovely little excursion
your wife took yesterday morning. It seems she was seen at Gunter’s
riding astride in a wedding gown and a brazen red Spencer and
bonnet.”

Keep her in line? Brazen? It took
every bit of effort Aurora had to refrain from stamping across the
room and slapping some sense into the cantankerous grouch. Sadly,
since all her effort was tied up in that endeavor, she was unable
to keep her tongue in check. “Why, I never!”

“
Oh, you most certainly
did,” Lord Rotheby replied. “That, and I’m certain, a great deal
more. My grandson will have his hands full with you, to be sure.”
Surprisingly, he chuckled. Aurora nearly fainted dead away at the
out-of-sorts sound of mirth coming from him. “I daresay the two of
you will be quite the entertaining match. I only wish I would be
able to watch it all play out.”

But then he snapped around to face
Quin and the grouse returned to his tone. “But I warn you, Quinton,
I will not sit idly by and continue to read about these antics in
the papers. You know full well the terms of our
agreement.”

Terms? What sort of terms could they
possibly have? Quin was the earl’s heir—nothing could be done to
change that. Could there be?

“
I have not forgotten,”
Quin said. His eyes flashed, much in the same way they had when he
had berated her for her deportment before their wedding. She’d
hoped never to see such stark anger in him again, but at least it
was directed at someone other than herself this time. “We are
married now. There will be no more scandal, nothing for the gossips
to harp about. I intend for the
ton
to find us outright boring.”

Indeed! Well, it would have
been nice of him to inform Aurora of that little tidbit. He may
have very well married the wrong lady, if he thought they ought to
run and hide from the
beau
monde
, to keep to themselves and never be
seen. She may not need to be the source of the gossip, but she
certainly needed to
know
all of the gossip. By the time it was printed in
the papers, it was old news. Aurora would have to inform her
husband of her thoughts on the matter. But not until
later.

At the moment, she was too fascinated
by the battle that seemed to be playing out before her between her
husband and his grandfather. They each glared at the other, though
neither said a word for long moments.

Finally, Lord Rotheby continued. “See
to it, then.” He situated his cane in one hand and started to
leave, then shot his head around to eye her one last time.
“Quinton. Another word with you, in private,” he barked, then
continued out the door.

Could that be all? Surely this meeting
had been far too brief.

But Quin hefted a sigh. “I’ll return
to you shortly and then we’ll be on our way,” he said to her before
he followed the earl. He closed the door behind him, but neglected
to latch it fully into place.

She ought to walk across
the room and close the door properly. She really should avoid
listening to whatever they might have to say. Lord Rotheby
had
insisted that their
discussion must be in private—and therefore Aurora could assume he
meant for her
not
to hear it, as she was the only other person
present.

But how often had she ever been known
to do as she ought to do, or to avoid what she ought to
avoid?

At least she resisted the temptation
to tiptoe over to the doorway and press her ear against the one
door that had properly closed. Instead, she listened from where she
stood.

As it turned out, she needn’t have
bothered going any closer. In fact, having the door properly closed
might have done no good in keeping her from hearing the raised
voices down the hall.

“
More than keeping
her
in check, you’d
better start keeping yourself in check, Quinton,” came the gruff
shout of Lord Rotheby. “I daresay you instigated the scene at that
ball, and I know you well enough to know you drove her to the one
at Gunter’s.”

“
I’ve done everything
you’ve asked of me,
my
lord
,” her husband responded. “I’ve married
a perfectly acceptable lady, would you not agree? Or do you find
fault with her already, after only seeing her for a grand total of
two minutes?”

“
The chit married you,
didn’t she? How can that bode well for the state of her
senses?”

“
If she hadn’t, then I
would be failing to uphold our agreement!”

“
That’s beside the
point.”

Aurora flinched at the sound of
something crashing against the wall.

“
Then what
is
your bloody point?”
Quin shouted.

“
Have you bedded her yet?”
Lord Rotheby asked, causing heat to flood Aurora’s cheeks, even
though no one could see her reaction. Oh, dear good Lord. The earl
wanted to know about
that
aspect of their marriage?

“
Don’t forget about that
last portion of our agreement,” Lord Rotheby continued. “It had
better be obvious that your wife is breeding before the year is
out.”

Breeding? Before the end of a year, no
less.

Quin’s voice dropped. She could no
longer hear his words, just his tone—icy and menacing.

Aurora’s heart dropped alongside his
voice. She’d been right. There was something else behind him
wanting to marry her. Something that Lord Rotheby was insisting
upon. Quin didn’t want to be married to her—he just needed to be
married. To someone. To anyone, really.

And now she was stuck.

Chapter
Twelve

4 April, 1811

Breeding
is a rather ugly word. At least in terms of
ladies and not livestock. I do not believe I like Lord
Rotheby.

~From the journal of Lady
Quinton

Surely, Aurora’s head would
explode at any moment from the need to discuss Lord
Rotheby’s
requirements
with her husband. Her headache was only compounded by her lack
of ability to do just that because of all of these irritating
visits. If they had returned home in a closed carriage where their
conversation would not be available to anyone who chose to listen
in, she would have confronted him about it on the drive home.
However, given their current state of filling the gossip sheets
almost by themselves of late, Aurora thought it best to keep their
discussion as private as possible.

They had been back at
Number Fourteen for only a few minutes when Sir Jonas, their first
guest of the day, arrived. She smiled and nodded and attempted to
make conversation with the man—and he was truly a delightful
conversationalist, discussing such matters with her as
Frankenstein
, a novel
he’d read written by a lady, no less—but honestly, would have
preferred him to leave.

He did just that, but only when after
visitors arrived. This time, Rebecca came in, escorted by none
other than Lord Norcutt, who was overly fervent in offering his
felicitations to the new couple. Rebecca’s presence would have been
delightful, had it not been marred by the gentleman at her side.
Aurora could hardly make such a pronouncement, however,
particularly because of the little wager the two ladies had made,
and so she was forced to bite her tongue and wish for time to move
faster.

After their departure, a veritable
parade of fashionable people stopped in to offer their
congratulations (or, perhaps more to the point, to see what sort of
gossip they could glean during in their brief visits).

By the time their exceedingly
inadequately furnished drawing room had finally emptied that
afternoon, Aurora had consumed more tea than any human should ever
drink within a full day, let alone within the span of a few hours.
“I do not believe I wish to ever have another visitor as long as I
live,” she complained to Quin. From his position beside her, he
nodded in agreement.

But before they could extract
themselves from the room, yet another knock sounded at the double
doors. Their butler ducked his head inside and announced, “Lord
Hyatt to see Lord and Lady Quinton.”

Oh, dear good Lord. Father could not
have waited one more day? But no, of course he couldn’t. This was
the first time since her birth he’d gone a full day without seeing
her. He must be lonely, being bereft of her company.

Quin waved for the butler to show her
father in. A moment later, he came into the room, full of smiles
and life.

Naturally, as any newly married
daughter delighted to see her father would do, Aurora burst into
tears.

Father rushed to her side and wrapped
her in his arms. “There now. It can’t be so bad as all of this,” he
said.

She tried to stop the tears, but they
came in a torrential downpour and she couldn’t manage to staunch
the flow. When she tried to speak, all that came out was a
hiccup.

“
What have you done to
her?” Father asked, directing his malevolence at Quin.

“
What have
I
done to
her
?” Quin bellowed loud
enough that surely all their neighbors must have heard. “How soon
you forget that your daughter led me on a merry chase yesterday
morning, when she ought to have been walking down the aisle to
marry me.”

“
Just as soon as you
forget,” her father said with more menace in his tone than she’d
ever heard before—more, in fact, than she ever imagined him capable
of, “that none of this would be happening if you had any sense of
honor or decency and had refrained from debauching my daughter in
the middle of a ballroom.”

“
You, sir, ought to
remember that your
daughter
is now also my
wife
,” Quin said in a much quieter
tone than could possibly prove to be advantageous, “and it is
therefore my responsibility and obligation to comfort her when she
might need it. Kindly remove your hands from her
person.”

Father did just that. He stood,
spreading his feet wide and crossing his arms across his chest.
“How dare you order me not to comfort my daughter? To leave her in
her misery—misery you’ve caused, mind you—when she needs someone
she loves and trusts to care for her?”

Oh, blast. This was not how she’d
envisioned her first day of married life.

Though, admittedly, Aurora
did rather enjoy the thought of two gentlemen fighting over her.
Having it be two men, neither of whom could fit into the categories
of
Father
or
Husband
,
however, would be much preferable to her current
predicament.

She leapt to her feet, planting
herself directly in the middle of them—just as Quin was advancing
upon her father to do God only knew what. “Stop. Right this
instant, both of you stop this.”

Quin neglected to slow his
advance, so she held out an arm, pushing him back with all her
might. “I said
stop
.”

Finally, he listened to her. But he
seemed none too happy about the arrangement, glaring so furiously
at her father that the viscount ought to have burst into flames.
For that matter, Father’s scowl would have easily felled a lesser
man than Quin.

More to stall than anything, she took
a deep breath and closed her eyes. Surely they were both capable of
seeing reason, weren’t they? And surely they recognized the fact
that one of them murdering the other would be far from a reasonable
response to—

To what?

Oh, dear good Lord. Her marriage had
already become a complicated, convoluted mess, and they’d only been
married a day.

“
Father,” she began, “Quin
has done nothing to cause my tears.” Well, nothing that she was
willing to tell her father, at least. Certainly nothing that she
ought to mention if she intended to diffuse the tension in the air.
“I’m simply overwhelmed by everything. This has all happened so
fast.”

“
Too fast,” Father grumbled
beneath his breath.

She frowned at him before turning to
her husband. “Quin, it is your right, as my husband, to comfort
me”

“
Damn right it is,” Quin
interrupted, earning his own frown.

“
However
,” she interrupted with a good
deal of force, “Father has always been my one and only comfort in
this world, and it is going to take a period of time for both of us
to adjust to the new circumstances we find ourselves
in.”