By Love Undone (17 page)

“Yes.” He paused. “Which could be quite opportune for you.”

She looked at him skeptically. “For
me?
”

He strode forward to clasp her hands in his. “Of course. Father might be able to forbid my mother from assisting us, but he can’t very well order Eloise around. She’s only a second cousin.”

Humiliation flushed Maddie’s cheeks. “No, Quin. That’s a terrible idea. I’m sure she’ll want nothing to do with me. How would you ever explain me to her, anyway?”

His smile faltered a little. “Eloise is very understanding.”

Maddie nodded, pulling her hands free. “Even so,” she returned, trying to sound cynical and amused instead of heartbroken, “if I were you, I wouldn’t mention that you kissed me. Twice.”

“Maddie,” he began, closing the distance between them again.

She backed away. “Don’t try to explain. We’ll just put it to the general weakness of men.”

His eyes searched hers. “I’d rather you didn’t,” he
said, “but I don’t think it would be wise to pursue an explanation any further at the moment.”

Looking at the slight smile curving his mouth, and the jade eyes studying her face, Maddie abruptly agreed with him. This was becoming extremely complicated. “Well? You’d best be off, then.”

“Don’t go anywhere while I’m away,” he warned.

She put a hand to her chest. “Me?”

“Miss Willits, don’t make me lock you—”

“All right, all right,” she surrendered. “I won’t go anywhere while you’re off visiting.”

He nodded. “Good.”

“Quin!” Eloise, Lady Stokesley, hurried downstairs in a fashionable swirl of blue silk.

She’d cut her hair since last autumn, her long blond tresses now a short, daring cascade of curls framing her perfect alabaster features. Her blue eyes reflected the fine material of her gown as she stopped before him. They’d known one another for so long that Quin sometimes forgot how lovely she was—until he set eyes on her after a few months of being apart. He took her hands and drew them to his lips.

“Eloise,” he said with a smile. She stood a few inches above Maddie’s height—though he’d never thought of her as being overly tall before. “You are a vision, my dear, as always.”

She curled up a delicate fist and hit him on the shoulder. “I’m very angry at you.”

There was no heat in either the blow or her voice, and he lifted an eyebrow. “Whatever for?”

“I’ve had a terrible time keeping track of you, you beast. First you’re at Warefield, and then you go off to Somerset, of all places. You hardly correspond with me, and then, when I finally think my letters have caught up to you, your uncle writes to inform me you’re at High
barrow Castle. Then you go off to London without a word. And without coming to Stafford Green first.”

Quin led her into the Stokesley House morning room. “Yes, well, that’s one of the reasons I wanted to see you right away. I’ve had…something of an adventure.”

Eloise seated herself on the couch, beckoning him to join her. “Do tell me what’s kept you so occupied.”

He heard the slight censure in her voice but ignored it. He
had
been less than communicative over the past few weeks. “It’s a rather long story.”

“I should imagine so. Tell me.”

Quin settled back against the cushions. “Well, you know Uncle Malcolm had an apoplexy, and that Father sent me to Langley to help with the planting.”

She nodded. “Yes, you did manage to write me about that, and about how inconvenient it would be to your schedule.”

It had been inconvenient only until he’d set eyes on Maddie. “It turned out that Uncle Malcolm already had an assistant who was quite proficient at estate management,” he continued.

“Then why didn’t you take your leave early and visit me, as we’d planned?”

“I’m getting to that. This assistant of my uncle’s was a female.”

Eloise’s eyes widened, and she put a hand over her mouth. “Oh, my,” she said slyly. “How wicked of your uncle. And such a shame that the best gossip is always within one’s family, so one can’t spread it about.”

Quin frowned, then wiped the expression from his face when she looked at him curiously. Funny, he’d never taken notice of gossip before. But then, he’d never seen the effects of it—until Maddie. “I don’t think it was like that at all,” he countered, a little stiffly. “She was more like a daughter to him, I believe. And it turned
out that she was the eldest daughter of Viscount Halverston.”

“The…we came out the same Season. She’s the one who ran off after half the
ton
discovered her lifting her skirts for that awful Benjamin Spenser, isn’t she?”

“I’m not convinced that was her fault.”

Eloise looked up at his sharp tone. “Oh, really?”

Charging to Maddie’s defense would only make things worse. And Maddie certainly wouldn’t appreciate it. “As you said,” he continued, “Spenser doesn’t have the best reputation as a gentleman. At any rate, my uncle believed her to be innocent of any wrongdoing. He…he asked me to reintroduce her to London society.”

“He did what?” Eloise stood. “You had that…lightskirt with you when you traveled to Highbarrow?”

“Eloise, please,” he cut in, before she could say something worse about Maddie. “My mother has been helping her. She’s very sweet.”

Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. “
Sweet?
”

It wasn’t exactly the perfect word to describe Maddie, but he couldn’t very well tell Eloise that he was half addle-brained over the wild-hearted chit. “Yes. Except that now Father’s on a rampage about how she’ll somehow tarnish the Bancroft name, and you know Mother won’t directly defy him, so…so I need your help, Eloise.”

“My help?”

Quin shrugged. “Well, yes. I promised Malcolm I’d see her able to marry any gentleman in London. I can’t very well chaperon her myself.”

For a long moment she looked at him. Finally, she sat again and took his hand in hers. “Of course I’ll help, my marquis.” Eloise moved closer, leaning her head against his shoulder. “Poor dear, she’d be all alone if not for us.”

“Well, she’s not exactly helpless. In fact, I believe her to be quite capable.”

“Capable?” Eloise chuckled. “Oh, my. You make her sound like a milkmaid. I can’t wait to meet her.”

“You said you came out together.”

She shook her head. “No, I said we came out the same Season. I imagine we attended a few of the same soirees, but Halverston’s a very small holding, you know.”

He knew what she meant—that Maddie hadn’t been privileged to travel in the same high circles into which he and Eloise had been born. “Yes, I know. Mother’s last official duty is to chaperon her to the opera tonight. I’ll bring her by tomorrow, if that’s all right.”

“Oh, yes! I’m quite looking forward to helping her now. We shall be like sisters.”

Quin smiled, relieved, and kissed Eloise on the cheek. “Thank you.”

“Come by at one, and we’ll have luncheon in the garden.”

With a nod, Quin collected his hat and went outside to retrieve Aristotle. That hadn’t been nearly as sticky as he’d anticipated. Perhaps there was a chance he would escape the Season in one piece.

With Mary’s assistance, Maddie dressed in her dark green and gray gown with a scooped neck and short puffy sleeves. The flowing silk was easily the most lovely thing she’d worn in years, if not ever. It was a gown fit for a prime box at the opera, and as she twisted in front of the full-length mirror, she was terrified. “This is so stupid.”

“You look beautiful, Miss Maddie,” Mary protested, reaching out to adjust one last out-of-place curl.

“Well, thank you, but that’s not quite what I meant.” She’d made Quin promise four different times that her
parents weren’t in town yet, and another three times that Charles Dunfrey wouldn’t be attending
The Magic Flute
. Which left only a thousand other people to stare at her and laugh that she would think of returning to London society—even in the company of the Bancrofts.

Her door rattled with Quin’s confident knock. “Ready, Maddie?”

“I really don’t think we should upset your father any further,” she told the door. “You go. I’ll begin packing for Langley.”

The bedchamber door opened. “No excuses….” the marquis began, then closed his mouth as he ran his gaze over her. “‘My prime request,’” he said softly, “‘Which I do last pronounce, is, oh, you wonder, if you be maid or no?’”

She couldn’t help the smile that touched her lips. “‘No wonder, sir, but certainly a maid.’”

He stepped closer, apparently oblivious of Mary’s presence. “Then you know
The Tempest
, as well.”

“I’ve recently had a great deal of time to read.” Belatedly she backed away from him. “And you shouldn’t be in here.”

He lifted an eyebrow. “Don’t want you escaping out the window, you know. The coach is waiting. Shall we?”

Maddie shook her head. “No, I don’t think so.”

“After tonight it will be much easier. Come on.”

He was entirely too high-spirited, which made her even more nervous than she had been a few minutes earlier. Reluctantly she followed him downstairs. “You’ve never been cut, have you, my lord?”

He looked sideways at her.

“Quin,” she corrected.

“No, I haven’t. Except by you, of course.”

“Well, as I imagine you’ll find out tonight,” she said,
while the butler helped her on with her shawl, “
I
don’t matter, Quin. And thank you, Beeks.”

“You could be a little more positive about this, Maddie.” He gestured her to precede him out the door.

Reluctantly, Maddie complied.

Shrugging, she stepped up into the coach to sit beside the duchess. He didn’t understand—and he wouldn’t understand, because it had never happened to him.

Once they exited the coach at the front of the opera house, however, she thought perhaps he’d been right, after all. She received several startled second looks and heard the murmured commentary going about the huge lobby, but no one actually turned his back on her. She held tightly onto Quin’s arm, grateful for his tall, strong presence, and tried to look relaxed. The marquis, with Her Grace on his other arm, smiled and greeted their friends and acquaintances as though nothing out of the ordinary was occurring.

“See?” Quin murmured at her, as they started up the long, winding staircase leading to the balcony and the exclusive boxes.

“They can’t cut me without cutting you and the duchess,” she muttered back, through teeth clenched in a determinedly amused smile.

“It was five years ago, Maddie. Probably no one so much as remembers the specifics. If you comport yourself well, they’ll have no reason to cut you.”

She had her doubts about that. Even so, as she stepped through the curtains at the back of the Bancroft box and took the forward seat beside the duchess, as she’d been instructed, she couldn’t help a moment of optimism. So far, the nightmare she’d imagined hadn’t materialized. Perhaps Quin was right, and no one remembered her at all.

A few pairs of opera glasses, then more, turned in her direction at the beginning of the first act, but she thought
they might just as easily have been aimed at the illustrious Bancrofts. She hadn’t been to the opera in a long time, and once everyone settled down to watch, she allowed herself to be absorbed in the comedy unfolding on the stage below.

She hardly realized intermission had arrived until the massive curtains swung shut and the house lights brightened. A wave of uneasiness ran through her again, even stronger than before.
Everyone
mingled at intermission.

“Shall we?” Quin said, rising and stretching.

“Polite nods and one- or two-word answers. For anything more, defer to me—is that clear, Maddie?” the duchess said, motioning her toward the back of the box.

She nodded, hoping no one could hear her knees knocking together. “Don’t worry about that.”

It was like remembering, like something she had done before, but not exactly in the same way. The French phrase for it
—déjà vu—
that was what it felt like, to emerge from a theater box into a crowd of glittering nobility, but at the same time to know with absolute certainty that she did not belong.

“Your Grace. How splendid to see you back in London.” A short, very broad woman whose neck sparkled with diamonds appeared from one side of the wide hallway. She clasped the duchess’s hand.

“Lady Hatton,” the duchess returned. “I was so sorry to hear of your cousin’s death. My condolences to you and your family.”

“Oh, thank you, Your Grace. One would have thought India more civilized by now.” The white-haired woman looked at Quin and curtsied, then turned her attention to Maddie. “I don’t believe I’ve met your companion, Your Grace.”

“Ah, of course. Lady Hatton, I should like to introduce Miss Willits, an old family friend. Madeleine, Lady Hatton of Staffordshire.”

Maddie nodded politely, self-consciously taking Quin’s arm again. “Pleased to meet you.” It was actually four words, but she couldn’t think how to limit it to less and not sound like a halfwit.

“And you as well, my dear.” Lady Hatton smiled. “What a lovely girl you are.”

“Thank you, my lady.”

A moment later three other grand ladies had approached, all of them thankfully more interested in learning the state of the duke’s health and wealth than in being introduced to Maddie. Relieved, she turned away—only to find herself being stared at intently by a very beautiful, tall woman with a profusion of short blond ringlets framing her face.

She looked familiar, and as she parted from her companions and came forward, Maddie remembered who she was. Her heart and her courage sank.

“Eloise,” Quin said warmly, and Maddie belatedly released her grip on his arm. She’d likely left bruises, but he didn’t give any indication of being in dire pain. Instead, he smiled again. “Why didn’t you say you would be attending this evening?”

“It was something of a last minute decision,” Lady Stokesley answered, and stopped before Maddie. “You must be Miss Willits. Your face is somewhat familiar, but I don’t think we’ve ever been formally introduced.”

“Then allow me,” Quin said. “Eloise, Miss Willits. Maddie, Lady Stokesley.”