A Lord Rotheby's Holiday Bundle (26 page)

A throb formed in Quin’s temple almost
on sight.

“
You promised to settle
down,” the earl sneered. “To become respectable. And then this. I
should never have given you a chance. I should have just cut you
off and left you to deal with the consequences. This is how you
repay me?”

What the deuce was the
cantankerous old codger carrying on about? Quin took the
Haut Monde Gazette
from
his grandfather, glancing up when Aurora slipped into the chamber
from their sitting room, a heavy wrapper covering her nightrail. He
wished something was doing the same for her eyes.

All a show. Her pitiful act was just a
desperate bid for attention, from the puffy eyes, to the visible
shaking, to the abject look of horror. Attention he could hardly
afford to give her at the moment, particularly since Rotheby was
standing by, waiting for some answer he doubted he could
provide.

He looked down at the paper in his
hand. When he squinted to make out the words, Burton brought over a
candlestick.

Quin’s heart nearly
stopped.

Gentle readers, let it be
known that we are sufficiently Scandalized by the Writings of the
new Lady Q to be convinced never to remain within the presence of
either herself or her husband. The very Fact that her ladyship
feels it prudent to Write at all, we find highly disturbing and
enough to warrant the Cut Direct. However, the Acts recorded
therein, if not Illegal, are at the very least Immoral and Improper
and we cannot, in all good conscience, refrain from warning our
readership of their lurid existence.

To think that a
gently-bred lady might partake in such Acts is both shocking and
appalling, but also to Write about them in such vivid and
licentious detail, and to share the Writings with her unwitting
guests? Let us suffice it to say these Writings cannot be shared,
lest we run the risk of permanent Ruin to the Innocence and Moral
Righteousness of our faithful Readership.

Chaperones, steer your
charges away from Lord and Lady Q’s paths. Hostesses, permanently
remove their names from your guest lists. Give Lord and Lady Q the
Cut Direct, and do not look back. Your Virtue will thank you for
it.

For shame, Lady Q. For
shame.

Quin shook now, too, but
where Aurora’s shaking was fear, his was nothing but rage. Had she
given her journal to someone? He thought he’d made it abundantly
clear that no one was to know of its existence but the two of them,
and now it was being spread to the gossip sheets for the
entire
ton
to
see.

But he would have to deal with Aurora
later. Rotheby required his immediate attention. “My lord, I do not
know what to say”

“
Lucky for us, I do. You
are a disgrace to me, Quinton, and your wife is no more than a
common trollop. How can I expect you to keep her in line when you
can’t keep yourself in line?” Rotheby paused for a beat, almost as
though he expected an answer. “I can’t!” he said when Quin
neglected to answer. “You leave me no choice. Giving you a year to
get your life in order was clearly misguided, wishful thinking on
my part.”

“
No, my lord, it was not.
Give me more time”

Rotheby scoffed. “More time
to what? How do you intend to further trample my name through the
mud? No, you’ve given me ample proof that you will
never
change, that you
will always be the wastrel that your father was. I refuse to allow
any more of my fortune to support your habits.”

Good God. He really meant to do
it.

Rotheby was going to cut him
off.

“
My lord, must I beg you to
give me another chance to prove myself to you? I’ll do anything you
ask. But remember, I have a wife now—even if she is foolish and
naïve, I’m still responsible for her wellbeing.”

“
Perhaps you should have
kept a closer eye on her activities instead of spending your days
being pummeled in your boxing club. But that is none of my concern.
Use her dowry. Take a profession. I care not what you do, but
you’ll not do it with my assistance.”

He couldn’t take Aurora’s money, even
if she was responsible for getting them into this mess. There had
to be another answer.

Rotheby turned to leave, giving Aurora
a look of disdain on his way out the door.

“
Six months,” Quin begged.
“Give me six months, instead of a year. I’ll prove to you that I
can be the gentleman you expect me to be. I’ll do anything it
takes.”

His grandfather did not turn to face
him, but he at least stopped.

He’d better keep talking while he
could. “We’ll go to Quinton Abbey, away from the gossips. I’ll do
everything you want me to do, and we’ll do it there where no one
will report my mistakes along the way to the papers.”

“
An heir?” Rotheby asked,
his voice gruff.

“
We’re working on it,” Quin
replied, ignoring the ferocious blush that heated Aurora’s
cheeks.

“
And you’ll run the abbey
like it deserves to be run?”

Christ, the man wanted a lot. “I’ll
learn all about crops and accounts and tenants. I’ll see to
it.”

They stood there in silence for many
minutes. Finally, Rotheby nodded. “Six months. I’ll come by any
time I wish to satisfy myself that you’re holding up your end of
the bargain. You won’t know when I’m coming, so you can’t hide the
evidence of your continued failures.”

Then Rotheby was gone, with a massive
thunderclap sounding as he left.

~ * ~

“
I can explain,” Aurora
said through her tears. Her voice was hardly loud enough for her to
hear it herself.

“
Can you, now?” he asked.
The soft, almost inaudible quality of Quin’s tone warred with the
furious nature of his visage. “Isn’t that lovely.” He stalked away
from her to his dressing room and closed the door.

Oh, dear good Lord. She knew nothing
good could come of Lord Griffin’s visit the day before, but never
in her life did she imagine the man would go to such lengths. And
to claim he wanted to aid her, all the while planning to ruin her
and Quin both.

She had to talk to her husband. He
must understand.

But understand what? Aurora was a
fool—a gauche, inane, blundering fool.

She tiptoed to the door and knocked
softly. “Quin? Please, open the door.” Nothing. Placing her ear
against the door, she heard some muffled thumps and bumps, but not
him. Not his voice. “Please?”

Without warning, the door opened and
she would have fallen through the newly emptied space if he hadn’t
barreled through it heading the other way. Fully dressed. “We’ll
leave for Quinton Abbey after luncheon,” he stated
matter-of-factly. “Have your maid pack your belongings. I’ll inform
Burton and see to the remainder of the arrangements.” He didn’t
look at her—never spared her even a passing glance as he brushed
past her and left their sitting room. “Be ready to leave when I
return.”

“
Quin…?” Aurora wanted to
stop him. She wanted to talk to him, to explain what had happened.
To apologize.

But he was down the stairs and issuing
terse commands to the servants, and then the door closed behind him
and he was gone.

~ * ~

Foxed. He needed to be good and foxed.
That had always helped before, and doubtless, today would be no
exception to the rule. After leaving Burton instructions for
packing the household and arranging for carriages and horses for
the journey, and a brief visit with his solicitor to arrange the
details of turning Number Fourteen back over to its owner, Quin
headed for White’s and proceeded to drink himself to
oblivion.

If only the brandy could erase his
foolhardy foray into marriage.

But no, he was the imbecile who’d
thought it wise to force the vixen’s hand and rush her into
marriage, when he knew nothing of her but that scandal seemingly
awaited her at every turn. How very true that assessment had turned
out to be. He couldn’t go back and start over. Love her or loathe
her, Aurora was his wife, irrevocably and incontrovertibly.
Permanently.

And he only had six months to
straighten himself out and bring her to heel. Good God. He needed
another drink just thinking about it. But he’d run out of time. The
trip to Wetherby was a solid two and a half days, and the sooner he
could get her there, and to Quinton Abbey, the better. Who knew
what trouble she’d managed to stir up in the few hours since he
left her.

He sure as hell didn’t look forward to
finding out.

In any case, he had to go back. He had
to leave with her. So he left White’s and headed that
way.

Two carriages waited in front of
Number Fourteen, one laden with trunks and the like, with enough
room inside for a few servants. The other would carry Quin and
Aurora—Lord help him. The journey might very well kill
him.

He walked up the steps and passed his
hat to Burton. “Is Lady Quinton ready?” She’d damned well better
be.

The butler nodded. “She’s waiting for
you in the parlor, my lord.”

Quin wasted no time. He barreled
through the French doors. “Shall we leave?” he asked, not really
expecting an answer. At least nothing more than her standing and
coming with him.

But she sat there with her swollen
eyes—with tears still actively falling, no less—and stared at
him.

“
What now?” he said on an
exaggerated and exasperated sigh, dragging a hand through his
hair.

Aurora’s lower lip trembled. “I’m so
sorry, Quin. I never meant for any of this to happen.”

She thought being contrite was
supposed to make everything better? How would her contrition change
anything? “It’s a bit too late for remorse. Now let’s go.” Quin
held out a hand for her to take, but she remained in the chintz
armchair by the window.

“
Please,” she said on a
sob, “let me apologize. Please let me explain.”

“
Explain?” Quin roared,
ignoring her wide-eyed reaction. He had very little patience when
he was sober. He had none at all when he was into his cups. “I
hardly think you could possibly come up with an explanation for
your behavior that would make the offense forgivable. I don’t want
to hear your explanations. Or your apologies.”

Her tears poured freely down her face,
leaving dark, wet stains on the bodice of her traveling gown where
they fell. Such an actress. Aurora truly went for the highest
dramatic effect, didn’t she? “You’re right, of course. It is
unforgivable. But at least let me tell you”

Quin’s head snapped around. “Tell me
what? Unless you intend to tell me the name of the blackguard you
handed your journal over to, so I can seek him out and rip the
sorry bastard limb from limb, there is nothing I want to hear from
you. But then again, why should I believe you if you did tell me
his name? You’re likely only trying to save your own arse from my
retribution.”

She gasped in what could only be mock
horror. “I would never do such a thing! You clearly know nothing at
all about me.”

“
Oh, and I suppose that is
my fault, is it?”

“
Yes, actually,” Aurora
said. “I’m not the one running off every day and having my brains
bashed in, instead of spending time with you. I’m not the one who
forced the other into a marriage within a few moments of meeting.
I’m not the one who”

“
No,” Quin sneered, “you’re
just the one who insists on sharing every sordid, intimate detail
of our lives with anyone you come across.”

She came across the room
and stood toe-to-toe with him. “Is that so? Well, at least I admit
to it after the fact. At least I do eventually tell you the truth.
Unlike you, with the way you continually tell me there’s nothing to
worry about.
Liar
.
You’re a liar and a cad. Lord Rotheby made the situation rather
clear this morning, didn’t he? Too bad for you he didn’t take you
off into private somewhere.”

“
I told you it was none of
your concern. Which it isn’t.”

“
Is it not? What if I’m
barren, Quin? What if I can’t have a child? What then?” Her clear
eyes flashed like a flame roaring to life. She pushed a hand
against his chest—not enough to force him backward, just enough to
goad him into a reaction. “I’ll be destitute alongside you, that’s
what!”

“
Stop pushing me,” he
warned, his voice low.

“
Stop pushing you?” Aurora
taunted. “Why? Can’t a big man like you handle a lady? You big,
drunken oaf.” Once again, she pushed a hand against him, harder
this time. “You’re a drunk and a scoundrel, and I’m sorry I ever
met you. Is this how you handle your problems? By resorting to
drink?”

He’d have preferred some gambling and
a whore or two, but the brandy would have to do this time. Quin
took her hands into one of his own and squeezed to get her
attention, then he forcefully pushed her back a step. “You’re not
half as sorry as you should be.”