A Lord Rotheby's Holiday Bundle (31 page)

“
I hadn’t decided yet.
Perhaps it will depend on how soon I overstay my
welcome.”

“
I hardly imagine such a
thing is possible, sir,” Aurora replied. “I do imagine, however,
that my husband would like to know of your arrival. Forster should
know where he is. You could take one of the horses from the stables
and go find him.”

Sir Jonas took another scone from the
tray. “Yes. I suppose I ought to do that, since he didn’t have the
decency to be at home when I arrived. Or,” he said with a twinkle
in his eye, “I could spend the afternoon entertaining you. It seems
to be something you’re sorely lacking. And perhaps it will make him
envious enough to want to do more of it himself.” He leaned back in
his chair and crossed one booted foot over his knee. “And then I
can go and find him. If you’d enjoy that, of course.”

If she’d enjoy it? How could she not,
in her current attention-deprived state?

~ * ~

The sun had just begun its descent in
the sky when Quin mounted his horse to make for the Hog’s Head. Yet
again, he’d spent another thoroughly productive day. Two of his
tenants had needed their fences fortified. Instead of enlisting one
of his workers to perform the labor, Quin had decided to do it
himself.

That had kept him occupied for almost
the entire day, and the physical requirements of it kept his mind
off Aurora. He felt good. Tired.

But now he wanted to eat, and drink a
brandy or three, and forget about her tears staining his
pillows.

He could never make her happy. If only
there was a way to avoid making her utterly woeful. Quin missed
that spark of life she had—the way she would argue with him and try
to assert herself. The boldness she’d shown in riding off from
their wedding astride a stolen horse. He feared she might be
thoroughly losing that spark. If not, why would she cry at
night?

But if he spent more time with her and
observed her acting in such ways, he’d likely fall further in love
with her, which would only put her in greater danger.

He couldn’t do that.

By the same token, if
she
was
losing her
vivaciousness—if she was truly as sad as he feared—he only had
himself to blame.

Any way he looked at it, Quin was
better off maintaining his distance.

He dismounted, tossed the reins to a
groom, and then made his way inside the dark pub. He didn’t make it
two steps beyond the door before a familiar voice called out to
him. “Quin, you’ve got things to explain to me. And you’ll do it on
our way back to the abbey.”

Jonas sat on a bench by the window,
staring at the entrance and looking as dour as he had ever managed.
Which, by the way, was saying something indeed.

“
What are you doing here?”
Quin asked. “Never mind that for now. Let me buy you a drink.” He
looked for the barmaid.

But Jonas stood and came over to him,
clapping a hand on his shoulder and pressing him out the door.
“Let’s not and pretend we did. We need to talk.”

What the devil? Something had to be
wrong. “Do you have news from Rotheby?” Quin asked on the way to
the stables. Maybe the old codger had finally died. He could
hope.

“
I haven’t spoken to
Rotheby in a few weeks,” Jonas said. “Not since you left without
saying a word, and I had to hunt him down to learn why and where
you’d gone.”

Is that what this was about?
Damnation, Jonas was a bloody friend, not his keeper. Quin kept his
mouth shut for the moment, though, because the pub’s groom was
bringing over their horses. It wouldn’t do to curse the baronet in
front of someone. Not without reasonably more provocation, at
least.

When they’d mounted and were riding
toward the abbey, he glanced at Jonas. “And you came to track me
down because you’re angry I left without a note of explanation?
Sending a letter would have sufficed.”

Jonas raised an eyebrow. “Like you
ever read your correspondence. But no, that isn’t why I came.” He
sighed and looked off at the horizon for a few moments. “Do you
receive the society sheets here?”

He tried to keep the impatience out of
his tone. “Of course not. Why the hell would I care which bloody
debutante is wearing the wrong shade of pale, or which gentleman is
being made a cuckold of this week?” Not to mention, why would he
want to read more of the ilk that had been published about him and
Aurora before they had left? He wouldn’t. It would only anger him
more.

“
I know, trust me, I know,”
Jonas said. “But the gossip they spread about your wife? The one
Rotheby showed you?”

Damnation. This couldn’t be good. But
he supposed he needed to know, whether he would like what Jonas had
to say or not. “Yes? Go on.” His words came out clipped.

“
They haven’t stopped. In
fact, a new gossip sheet has started up. They call it the
Sordid Scandals and Titillating
Trysts
.”

“
I see.” Quin’s teeth
clenched and ground against each other. Even being gone from Town
for weeks, even keeping his wife holed up away from the gossips,
they couldn’t stop talking about her. Unbelievable.

Jonas cleared his throat.
“The
Scandals
is
only available at White’s and Brooks’s. No one is quite certain who
is publishing the thing. The sheets just somehow arrive near the
betting table. Quin…” His voice trailed off and he stopped his
horse.

This was ridiculous. Why did he care
about this new gossip rag? Gossip was gossip was gossip. That’s all
it would ever be. Quin pulled his horse around to face his friend.
And waited. “What?” he bellowed after long moments of
silence.

“
They’re printing
stories—ones similar to those which the other rags only alluded to,
but refused to print in order to protect innocent eyes.”

Printing the stories?
Aurora was still writing them. She was writing them and sending
them off to someone and having them printed and sent around to the
entire
ton.

He steered his horse around and took
off at a gallop. Jonas trailed along behind him, yelling for him to
“Wait!” But he couldn’t wait. He wouldn’t wait.

Aurora was going to answer to him this
time. She would damned well give him a name, too. And
then…

He didn’t know what then.

Quin rode neck-or-nothing all the way
to the front door of Quinton Abbey and leapt from his horse. He
flung open the door before Forster could get to it. “Where is she?
Where is my wife?” he hollered, ignoring the shock on his butler’s
face.

“
In the salon, my
lord.”

He stalked through the halls, neither
stopping nor slowing for anyone in his way. A footman swung open
the door to the salon just in the nick of time, or he would have
likely pushed the door down, he was so furious.

Aurora sat at a table with her bloody
journal and a quill in her hand, and jumped at his intrusion.
Caught in the act. Perfect. She couldn’t very well deny it
now.

“
Quin,” she said. “I didn’t
expect you home at this hour.”

Obviously. He glared at her as he made
his way across the room. “Didn’t expect me to discover your little
secrets, did you?” He hated the sneer in his voice but was
powerless to prevent it.

Aurora frowned, and her eyes held a
question. Such an actress. Just as she had always been. The minx
had even snared him in her trap—had him falling for her.

Love. Ha!

“
I don’t know what secrets
you’re talking about. Do you mean Sir Jonas’s arrival? I told him
we should let you know he’d come for a visit, but he suggested he
could entertain me for a while first.”

Always trying to play the
innocent. He’d been a fool for too long. No longer, though. He’d
not suffer her playacting any more. “Oh, this has everything to do
with Jonas. Or more precisely with what he’s told me of you and
your
activities
.”

Tears sprung to her eyes. As usual.
Aurora could cry on command, it seemed. “If I ever thought you’d be
so upset over me walking through the park with him, I would never
have done it.”

“
Oh, this is hardly about a
walk in the park.” Quin closed the last few steps to the table
she’d been sitting at. He grabbed the journal. “Tell me, who’ve you
been sending it to?”

Jonas barged into the room. “Quin, you
didn’t let me finish what I was trying to tell you. I don’t think
you should”

“
Oh, you’ve told me quite
enough already,” Quin shot back. “Thank you for your assistance,
but your participation in this discussion is not required. Nor is
it appreciated.”

Aurora turned her teary-eyed face to
the baronet. “Sir Jonas? What on earth is he going on
about?”

“
Leave us, Jonas,” Quin bit
off. “This is between me and my wife.”

The bastard didn’t take a hint, even
though it wasn’t just a hint. “I don’t think she wrote them, Quin.
Someone else is doing it.”

“
Is that so? Well, why
don’t we have a look at what I just caught her writing, hmm?” He
flipped the journal open and leafed through the pages.

Aurora’s jaw fell open. “I haven’t…I
haven’t written any stories in it since we left Town. Not until
today. I’ve only been using it as a diary, Quin.”

“
Liar. You have made a fool
of me for the last time, Aurora.”

“
No, I swear.” She started
across the room toward him. “Please believe me.” Her big, innocent
eyes implored him. Such a lark.

“
I’ll never believe another
word you say.”

She stopped short. “Sir
Jonas?”

Bloody hell. The chit kept running for
help. “Jonas. Out.” He wouldn’t get anywhere as long as his friend
kept interfering. It was only making him lose his temper
faster.

“
I think you should listen
to me, Quin,” Jonas said.

“
And you should respect
that this is my house and my wife, and I will deal with her as I
see fit.” He faced the wall to calm himself. Blood roiled through
his veins, and he didn’t know if he could maintain rational thought
if he was provoked much further.

“
Deal with me?” Aurora said
haughtily. “Of all the”

That was all it took.

Quin whirled around without thinking
and hurled the journal. Aurora flinched as it narrowly missed
hitting her squarely in the face.

Damnation. He’d done it. He’d well and
truly done it.

He was exactly like his father. Quin
left without a backward glance.

Chapter
Nineteen

18 May, 1811

How did it come to this?
How did I make such a mull of things that I cannot see the way out?
I truly believe he must despise me now, and all for something I do
not understand. Perhaps I should never write again. Perhaps I
should not even write these silly journal entries, which only prove
to me how unhappy and how lonely I truly am when I read through
them again. Pitiful. Pathetic. No wonder Quin wants nothing to do
with me.

~From the journal of Lady
Quinton

Aurora was too stunned for tears. She
bent down to pick up her journal, but her hands shook so badly she
dropped it again almost immediately.

“
Allow me to get that, Lady
Quinton,” Sir Jonas said.

She nodded and stood while he bent to
retrieve it.

“
Why don’t you sit?” he
encouraged, guiding her to a nearby sofa and helping to lower her
down. “You’ve had quite an ordeal just now.”

His voice was soothing. Calm. So very
different from her husband’s.

Everything about him was
different.

Sir Jonas placed the journal on the
table before her and left for a moment. When he came back, he said,
“Your housekeeper will be in shortly with tea, ma’am.”

“
Thank you,” she managed.
Aurora doubted she’d be able to drink any tea without spilling it
all over. She certainly couldn’t serve it.

Sir Jonas took a seat across from her.
“I owe you an apology, Lady Quinton,” he said, leaning forward over
his knees. “I brought your husband some news, and he didn’t let me
get the whole of it out before he flew into a fit of
pique.”

“
That’s a rather common
problem of his, it seems,” she quipped. Perhaps the shock was
beginning to wear off, if she was able to make a joke of things.
Aurora looked down at her hands where they were clasped in her hap.
Still quavering, but not quite so visibly.

“
Yes,” Sir Jonas replied.
“A rather unfortunate one, at that.”

Mrs. Marshall came in with a maid
carrying the tea service. “Would you like me to serve, my lady?”
the housekeeper asked. The maid scurried away once she delivered
the service.

“
That would be lovely, Mrs.
Marshall.”

Sir Jonas must have told her of
Aurora’s state. She supposed it was for the best, though. She
couldn’t be angry with him for such a thing.