A Lord Rotheby's Holiday Bundle (24 page)

He did his best to maintain a straight
face. “Abundantly so, love.”

She nodded. “Good. Then the part I
liked the best was that I felt everything more acutely than normal.
Since I couldn’t see, my other senses seemed to be enhanced. I
never knew what to expect, so I couldn’t anticipate what you would
do next.”

With his left hand, Quin drew lazy
patterns over the counterpane between them, working his way inch by
inch to where it covered her body. “I see,” he said, his fingers
following the ornate patterns of the fabric as it twisted over her
thighs. Her eyes followed his every move. “So would that be
something you’d like to repeat in future?”

“
Not fair,” Aurora
retorted. “I answered your question. You have to answer
mine.”

“
Touché.” He followed the
pattern up, up, up to where it fell over her breasts, which rose
and fell heavily with each breath.

“
Why did you do
that?”

“
I could say because I
wanted to, and it would be the truth. But it isn’t the whole
truth.” And on this, at least, he could provide her with that. The
same couldn’t be said of very many things in his life. “The truth
is I did it because you wanted it. Because you wrote it in your
journal. I read it over your shoulder and decided to act on
it.”

“
But I didn’t—I mean”
Aurora searched for words as he dipped his fingers below the
counterpane to tease her ruched nipples. Her breath
hitched.

“
I took some creative
freedoms,” Quin said. “I added a few of my own special touches.” He
leaned in and captured Aurora’s mouth for a searing kiss that left
him breathless, as well. Even after he ended it, he held onto her
hair, breathing in the scent of her. Fresh, spicy. “No one is to
ever see your journal but me. Is that clear?”

Aurora nodded. “Why do we only talk in
bed?” she asked. “Why can’t we have a conversation with our clothes
on?”

Because it was the only
time he let his guard down. But he couldn’t tell her that. He
couldn’t let her in that much. Quin placed some distance between
them. “Why don’t we go out tonight?” he asked. “They’re
performing
The Taming of the Shrew
at Covent Garden.” Hopefully she wouldn’t press
the matter. He didn’t want to tell her more than he already
had.

She sighed but then smiled up at him.
“Really? We can go out? I should like that very much,
indeed.”

“
That’s settled, then. Off
you go. Get dressed.” At least she was distracted for the moment.
Perhaps he could manage to surprise her further. Quin pulled on a
pair of trousers and rang for his valet. He needed to send an
invitation.

~ * ~

The Taming of the
Shrew
, indeed. Was Quin trying to make a
point? Perhaps she ought not to press him so much. But really, she
was only trying to have a civil conversation with the man. He
couldn’t very well fault her for that, could he?

Likely, Aurora was overreacting. After
all, he couldn’t well have commissioned the performers to prepare
that particular play for that particular evening, certainly not
without notice. It was just a coincidence. It had to be. Didn’t
it?

She chided herself in
silence for succumbing to vanity during the entire carriage ride to
and from Covent Garden that night. Truly, everything he did was
not
all
about her.
Quin, as usual provided they weren’t in bed, remained mute as a
church mouse for the duration of their short journey, which made it
entirely too easy for Aurora to take herself to task.

Rather unsporting of him, if one
should ask her.

Somehow, without her knowledge, he’d
also sent invitations to Lord Norcutt and Rebecca to join them in
their box. It had been quite the pleasant surprise.

At least the Rebecca part
of the equation had been pleasant. Lord Norcutt hadn’t been
entirely
un
pleasant. He actually made rather enjoyable, if not altogether
unique, conversation in the box before the play began and out in
the foyer during intermission. No prosaic talk of the dreary
weather in sight.

Rebecca must have warned him. Aurora
could think of no other reason for the sudden change in his
disposition.

She likewise could think of no good
reason why her husband would suddenly have taken to surprising her.
Thrice in a single day, if one counted the way he woke her from her
nap. What on earth could he possibly be after? Lively conversation
didn’t seem to be high on his list of priorities, as evidenced by
his return to silence in the carriage. There had to be some sort of
ulterior motive for the change in his demeanor.

Still, Aurora wouldn’t complain. A
husband who tried to surprise her on occasion was far better than a
husband who never even looked her direction unless he had designs
on how to impregnate her, whether she was capable of being
impregnated or not.

Now, if she could just manage that
last little part.

~ * ~

Blast. Blast, blast, blast, damn,
blast.

Three weeks ought to have been plenty
of time, right? Any normal lady, with normal ability to carry a
child, could expect to have one on the way within three weeks of
regular marital relations, couldn’t she?

But not Aurora.

Of course, no one had ever accused her
of being normal. But that was beside the point. Oh, heavens, why
had her courses decided to arrive that morning? Why couldn’t they
have stayed away, so she could perhaps share the good news with
Quin? Maybe then he would speak to her again. Maybe then they could
pretend to have a normal marriage.

But no, they had to go and show up, as
regular as the vicar at the pulpit of a Sunday morning. Blasted
inconvenient nuisance.

At least Quin had gone off with Sir
Jonas to box at Jackson’s again before her lovely little visitor
had arrived. She didn’t want to tell him. Not yet.

Aurora wanted a little more time to
sulk in private first.

He really ought not to engage in such
a violent pastime. Every time he came home, she wondered what new
bruises or cuts he would have, if not something far more
serious.

But her wishes didn’t seem to
matter—other than her wishes in the bedchamber. Quin was always
eager to sneak a peek in her journal, to see if she’d come up with
anything new or interesting for them to try. If not, he was more
than willing to introduce her to a few of his own ideas.

Well, Aurora might not be
able to satisfy him by telling him he would soon have an heir, but
she could at least satisfy that other part of him. She took her
journal and ink pot, selected a quill from her escritoire, and then
headed for the newly decorated parlor downstairs. Someone
could
come by to visit,
after all. Better to be readily available. She’d hate to keep
anyone waiting, particularly when she received so few visitors most
days.

Once settled at a table near the
window, she opened the journal and let the words flow. At least
that wasn’t impeded by her frustrations with Quin. Words never
failed her, even if men (or nature) did.

Aurora was unsure how much
time had passed as she scribbled away in her journal, outlining a
delicious new fantasy she hoped Quin might soon indulge her with,
when Burton cleared his throat at the French doors. “A visitor, my
lady,” he said, holding out a silver tray with a calling card upon
it.
Lord Griffin Seabrook.

Oh, dear good Lord. What could the man
want?

Still, she so seldom had
any visitors. It couldn’t hurt to entertain him for a brief visit,
could it? “Send him in,” she said before closing her journal and
setting her quill on the table.
Blast
. Ink stained her fingers, but
there was nothing to be done about it at this point.

Aurora stood and waited for her guest
to arrive. Moments later, he came through the double doors and
bowed to her. “Thank you for seeing me, Lady Quinton.”

“
The pleasure is mine,” she
replied.

Though she wasn’t entirely
certain there would be any pleasure involved. His look was rather
familiar to her, with grey eyes and a long face.
A horse face!
He had to
be related to Lady Phoebe—Quin’s previous fiancée.

The one he had jilted.

How very peculiar. “I apologize that
my husband is away today. I’m sure that he would be glad to handle
any business you may have with him at a later date, if you would
like to make an appointment.”

Lord Griffin’s eyes flashed to a
sudden storm, before returning to their more placid state. “I did
not wish to see your husband, my lady, but you.” He took a few more
steps into the room. “If I may be so bold, that is.”

Oh. Well. Aurora had no earthly idea
what the man could possibly need with her, but there could be no
harm in speaking with him. “Of course. Do come in and have a seat.
I’ll order tea.”

He nodded and she slipped from the
room. When she returned, he stood by her table at the window. A
brisk scan of the table showed nothing out of order, though.
Nothing to worry about.

“
Please,” she implored.
“Sit.” Finally, after she took up the nearest chaise, he sat in an
armchair close to the hearth. “What can I do for you, my
lord?”

“
I should have come to you
long ago,” he began. “Actually, I did, but you were unwell and
could not receive visitors that day.”

“
Yes, I seem to recall.”
Barely. So much had happened in the interim.

Lord Griffin shifted in his seat.
“Your husband—he is not an honorable man, ma’am. I am too late to
impede your falling into his trap, but I feel honor-bound to warn
you of his character. So you can protect yourself, as best you
can.”

That piqued her interest. “Protect
myself?”

“
Yes,” he continued. “You
may not be aware that Lord Quinton was once affianced to my sister,
Lady Phoebe.”

“
I am aware.”

Again, he fidgeted. “And are you also
aware of the circumstances surrounding the dissolution of that
engagement?”

Perhaps Lord Griffin would tell her
the truth. Perhaps she would finally know the whole of it. “I
understand that my husband cried off.”

“
Has he told you why,
ma’am?”

Or perhaps he wouldn’t. The weasel. “I
hardly think you came here today in order to discover what my
husband has or has not told me of an engagement that ended several
years ago, sir. If you have, you will be sorely disappointed.
Kindly make your point.”

Oh, dear. That came out a bit more
snippy than she had intended.

“
My point?” he said,
staring off into the distance. “Well, my point is that your husband
is after your fortune, ma’am. When my father told him the amount of
Phoebe’s dowry, he ran off without a backward glance. Clearly, he
expected a more sizeable sum.”

Lord Griffin could be right. Quin
could be after her fortune. But that was a matter settled between
him and her father, and she had nothing to do with it.

Nevertheless, it was too
late to worry over such matters. Even though they
could
have something to
do with Lord Rotheby’s concerns. Though what
breeding
had to do with her
inheritance, she would never understand.

“
As you’ve already stated,
Lord Griffin, you are too late. We have married. Three weeks ago, I
might add. I hardly think our financial situation is any of your
concern, and I assure you that such matters would be better handled
with my husband, if I am somehow mistaken on the first count. If
that is all you’ve come for, I’ll have Burton show you to the
door.”

“
Wait, please. There is
something more.” He looked down at his hands on his lap for a
moment. Almost too long a moment.

“
Yes?” Aurora finally
prodded.

“
My sister—she lost
everything. After Quinton left, her reputation was in tatters. It
remains so today.”

What did the man
expect
Aurora
to
do, for goodness sake? She could not very well help to improve a
young lady’s reputation when her own was in its current state. An
acquaintance with Aurora was hardly the fashionable accessory every
lady of good
ton
must have. “Go on.”

Griffin cleared his throat. “Phoebe
has only now agreed to return to society. My father, brother, and I
are doing everything we can to lend our own respectability to her,
so that she might attain some success. But if Quinton is in any way
associated with her, with any of us, everything we have worked for
will be lost. The gossipmongers will leap to again cast her in the
same light they have kept her in for several years now. Please,
will you do what you can to be certain your husband keeps to
himself—that he stays away from Phoebe and the rest of my
family?”

That was really not such a grand favor
for him to ask. But truly, the visit had gone on long enough. “Of
course, my lord.” She stood then and made to leave the room,
forcing him to follow. “I bid you good afternoon,” Aurora said with
a curt nod.