By Love Undone (24 page)

“You wish our liaison to remain a secret.”

“Oh, so now it’s a liaison? Last night it was a stumble, I believe,” she said dryly, wishing he would find an easier topic.

“A tumble, at least,” he agreed. “And an exceedingly pleasurable one.”

Before she could kick him, he turned her in his arms and propelled her toward the door leading into the garden.

“We’ll be back in a moment,” he said over his shoulder, as he exited behind her. “Maddie’s feeling faint.”

“I am not feeling faint,” she hissed, regaining her balance and backing away from him. “What are you doing?”

He pursued her, not stopping until he had her trapped between himself and a trio of exceedingly thorny rose bushes. “I didn’t want any witnesses if you intended to become violent,” he answered, and reached past her shoulder to pick a barely blooming red rose, still more a bud than a flower. Slowly he brushed the soft petals along her cheek. “You see, Maddie, if you truly thought you were ruined beyond hope of redemption, you wouldn’t care if I shouted my conquest to the treetops. But you do think there’s hope, don’t you? Even now.”

“After last night, my lord, I can’t believe you’re asking me the question. Our…our actions
did
ruin me beyond hope of redemption.”

“‘Our actions’? We made love, Maddie,” he said softly, brushing the rose along the low neckline of her morning dress, the petals leaving a light, sweet scent on her skin. “Didn’t you enjoy it? You said you did.”

She shivered at the soft caress of the rose, and of his voice. “It doesn’t matter whether I enjoyed it or not.”

“Yes, it does.” He leaned closer, replacing the rose petals with his lips in a feather-soft touch of his mouth
to hers. “Did you enjoy being with me, Maddie?”

She drew a ragged breath, wanting nothing more than to fall to the ground with him and repeat exactly what they had done last night. “Yes.”

Quin smiled. “So did I. Very much. Though the next time, I’d like to take more time, to…be more thorough.”

“The next time?” she repeated, hoping the sudden heat running beneath her skin didn’t show on her face. “There will not be a next time. You know that as well as I do.”

“I’m fairly stubborn for a dull gentleman, wouldn’t you say, my dear?”

“I…I didn’t mean that, Quin,” she said reluctantly. “You made me very angry.”

“Even so,” he answered softly, gently kissing her once more, and making her pulse begin to flutter all over again, “your point was taken.”

Maddie leaned up for another kiss first, in case they should begin another argument, then narrowed her eyes. “What do you mean?”

“Everyone else
has
been running my life since I can remember. I’ve put up with it because I considered it to be my duty, and because it really wasn’t all that difficult to tolerate. Until now.”

“Oh, no you don’t,” she warned, slipping past his shoulder and backing away from him in alarm. “You will
not
use me as an excuse to rebel against your family. Don’t be stupid. You have far too much to lose.”

She couldn’t tell if he was listening or not. He kept nodding, but his expression seemed anything but compliant. Rather, he looked like the idea of making love to her in the garden’s soft grass appealed to him as much as it did to her.

“I’m going inside,” she stated, holding up a hand to
ward him off. “Charles has invited me to accompany him on a picnic. I need to change.”

He stopped, his expression darkening. “Very well,” he said stiffly. “Go. I’m to meet Eloise, anyway.”

“Very well,” she repeated, realizing that she didn’t like Eloise Stokesley at all. “Please be sure to tell her I thank her for her advice about the Densens. I shall be more cautious next time.” More cautious about Eloise and her friends, at any rate.

“And so she should be more cautious,” Eloise agreed. She glanced over her shoulder to see Lord and Lady Pembroke and their daughter Lady Froston walking behind them, and she boldly wrapped her arm through Quin’s. “For heaven’s sake, I don’t know how much more clear I could have been.”

The marquis nodded at her. “Maddie is in agreement.”

Again, though, his tone was rather absent, as though his mind was elsewhere. Eloise could guess where. “Good. If she expects me to see her reintroduced into society, she must at least cooperate with me.”

His lips twitched. “She’s not very good at that, I’m afraid.”

“Honestly, she isn’t good at much, it seems to me.”

His arm tensed beneath hers. “I would appreciate if you didn’t repeat that sentiment. We’re here to quash rumors,” he said quietly, steel beneath the soft tones, “not spread them.”

So she’d gone too far and insulted the little mopsie. He didn’t seem to care nearly as much about his future wife’s feelings. “Oh, there’s Darby’s,” she cooed, pretending not to hear his censure. “Buy me a new hat, will you?”

“Another one?”

“I don’t believe there’s supposed to be a limit, my
dear,” she chuckled, trying to coax him out of his doldrums. “Come on, I’ll let you choose. You do have excellent taste, for a man.”

“Hm. My thanks.”

She let him choose a pretty green, if rather plain, bonnet, and instructed that it be sent to her address. Something still distracted him, and whatever it was, so far this morning it had kept him from asking that one particular question she’d been waiting to hear for five years—since she’d turned eighteen.

“Is something troubling you, Quin?” she finally asked, out of patience.

He shook himself. “No. My apologies. I suppose my mind’s been elsewhere today.”

“Where has it been?” she breathed, leaning against his arm as they strolled along crowded Bond Street. “On a certain question you said you needed to ask me today, I suppose?”

Quin stopped, looking down at her. “Yes, as a matter of fact.”

Not liking the hesitant look in his eyes, Eloise forced a smile. “Asking it seems so silly. After all, we’ve known since…forever that we’re to be married. If it makes things any easier on you, your father stopped by to see me yesterday.”

“He did?”

“Yes. And he informed me that you’d set July the seventeenth as the date for our wedding. I think that’s a lovely date, and splendid timing, as well.” She put both hands on his arm. “So, what I’m trying to say, dear Quin, is that you really needn’t even ask me. Just know that I say yes.”

For a long moment he looked down at her, then slowly shook his head. “You are better than I deserve.”

She chuckled, relieved. “Of course I am. Shall we go ask the duchess to begin compiling a guest list?”

Quin pulled his arm free of her ringers. “Eloise, I can’t marry you.”

Eloise froze, her relief turning to disbelieving horror. “
What?
”

“Not right now. I need a little time…to think.”

“About what? Don’t be ridiculous, Quin. Your father will cut you off if you delay this wedding for another year.” She took a step back. “And so will I. I’m twenty-three, Quin. Most of my friends are already married. Some of them have children. I won’t be made a laughingstock.”

“That is not my intention,” he said stiffly.

Hurriedly Eloise stepped forward again, putting a hand on his arm. “You are a very kind man, Quin; you always have been. If you need to take time to think, then do so. But know that I am here, and know that we both have an obligation to our families.” She leaned closer, lowering her voice. “Do you think I haven’t met anyone I couldn’t fancy myself in love with? But I haven’t allowed it to happen. There is too much at stake. You must do the same.”

“Don’t you think I know that, Eloise?” He took a deep breath. “Just give me a few days. A week. And then I will ask you, properly.” Quin smiled a little. “On bended knee.”

“A week,” she agreed, returning his smile. “Now, take me home. I must choose a gown to wear to the Beauforts’ tonight.”

He bowed. “Yes, my lady.”

Quin strolled ahead to signal his driver, and Eloise stopped to look at her reflection in a shop window. He wanted a week. It might as well have been forever. And something had to be done—before his little slut could ruin the fortunes and futures of two very important families. Apparently Charles Dunfrey wasn’t having any effect. She would have to see to that. Immediately.

Maddie had called him dull. In a sense, she knew what she was talking about. Quin watched her waltzing with Rafe, her natural grace and exuberance rendering the rest of the females at the Beaufort ball pale and awkward by comparison.

Dull
. The epithet hit closer than he felt comfortable acknowledging. Well, perhaps he wasn’t exactly dull, but he’d certainly taken a great many things for granted. He’d never had to worry about—or even think about—an income, his place in society, or whom he would marry. It had all been taken care of by the time he knew enough to wonder about it.

Maddie laughed at something Rafe said, and a stab of jealousy wrenched Quin’s insides unpleasantly. Because of her, because of what had happened to her and what she had accomplished all on her own, he could no longer take anything for granted.

He’d never thought to fall in love with Eloise; they’d known one another so long that a mutual fondness seemed adequate. But since he’d returned to London, even fondness seemed too strong a word.

Certainly Eloise had offered her assistance—or rather, she’d agreed to help him in order to get Maddie out of Bancroft House. To assume otherwise would be absurd. Quin glanced across the room at her, seated between her mother and his own, a charming, poised smile on her lovely face. As always she looked beautiful, her blond hair framing her face with delicate curling tendrils, and the sapphire of her dress matching the blue of her eyes. She looked like a marchioness, and she looked like a stunning future duchess.

And then there was Maddie—who looked like a beautiful wood sprite, captured for a moment before she made her escape into the morning mist. A smile touched his lips. She was certainly an auburn-haired element of
nature, and half the gentry present wouldn’t even speak to her. They all looked, though, especially the men. There was no doubt about that.

Perhaps she was right about him, after all. With her, he never knew what might happen next. With her, he felt…alive. And without her, the past years of his life seemed so lifeless.

“Ah, Warefield.”

Quin blinked and turned around. “Mr. Dunfrey.” The jealous twinge he’d felt at Rafe expanded into something much darker and angrier.

“Maddie—Miss Willits—has told me of your extraordinary generosity toward her. As her initial…predicament was in part my fault, I am exceedingly grateful to you, my lord.”

“Don’t trouble yourself,” Quin said shortly, wishing Dunfrey would go away. “It has nothing to do with you. She was wronged, and I am setting it right.”

Dunfrey nodded at him. “Just so. And I hope that I might take a final step in that direction, myself.”

So Charles Dunfrey
did
want her again, after all. If Quin had even the least little right to do so, he would have posted a No Trespassing sign right then. Maddie was
his
. But even Dunfrey had more right to Maddie than he did.

And even half ready to strangle the ass for presuming to take away his very favorite person in the world, he knew the choice had to be Maddie’s. Even if it killed him. “None of my affair, Dunfrey,” he said stiffly. With a nod he turned to find Eloise for the next dance.

As far as his initial—and stupidly naive—plan was concerned, everything was coming together splendidly. Baron Grafford had escorted Maddie out for the quadrille, and her dance card was three-quarters filled. She’d already handed out two perfectly worded set-downs to a pair of overeager gentlemen, and had done no discerni
ble damage to herself—or to them—in the process.

Almack’s next assembly was in ten days, and Charles Dunfrey was ready to forgive all and take Maddie as his bride. His debt of honor would be satisfied, and he could go on to marry Eloise a month later, just as the duke had envisioned.

Only one thing was wrong. He’d never expected to fall in love with Maddie Willits—and now that he had, he wasn’t certain he could give her up.

C
harles Dunfrey called on Maddie three times at Bancroft House over the next four days, and he also took her on a picnic and horseback riding at Hyde Park. During that time, with the exception of a few unreadable looks, the Marquis of Warefield seemed to be avoiding her again. She began to think that perhaps Quin had given up on his absurd notion of marrying her, and the idea left her stupidly disappointed and brokenhearted.

After all, the whole idea of his marrying her to restore her honor was completely ridiculous. Even if she had been a paragon of virtue, the future Duke of Highbarrow would have set his gaze much higher than where she stood. It made no sense that she lay awake every night, imagining being with him again, and dreaming of what it would be like actually to many the man with whom—despite all her intentions to the contrary—she had fallen in love.

Apparently, though, the marquis hadn’t given up entirely. The next morning Charles had an appointment, and Quin appeared before she’d finished eating breakfast. “Good morning,” he said amiably, taking the seat opposite her.

“Good morning,” she answered, wary of his seeming good humor. He was up to something.

He motioned for the platter of fruit, and one of the footmen hurried to bring it to him. “What are your plans for today?”

“I need to write Mr. Bancroft.”

Quin sat back and gazed at her. “And tell him what?”

Maddie blushed. As if she could write him about what was actually happening. “I haven’t written him yet that Charles Dunfrey has been calling on me, and that he’s been quite nice.”

“Ah. Considering that his bellowing is what ruined you, I should hope he
would
be quite nice.”

“You don’t need to be so hostile,” she said testily.

“I know, I know,” he muttered, half to himself, and sighed. “May I make amends by buying you a new hat?”

“I don’t need a new hat.”

He paused for a moment, as though she’d said something unexpected. “How about a new dress, then?” His eyes met hers lazily, and a warm, responding tremor went down her spine.

She wished he would quit referring to that night, exciting and intoxicating as it had been. Being reminded of his intimate touch and his passion only reminded her that she would never have that with him again. “A new hat will be more than adequate.”

“Splendid. I’ll have the phaeton hitched up.” With a grin, he rose and snatched a peach from the platter. “Oh, by the way,” he continued, “I thought you might want to know: His Grace is taking his breakfast at home this morning.” He slipped out the door.

“Egad.” Maddie hastily crammed the remaining biscuit in her mouth and washed it down with a gulp of tea. She’d become nearly as adept as the rest of the Bancrofts at evading the duke, thanks to a great deal of
luck and a good measure of what Rafe termed her “uncanny nose for trouble.”

With a quick and garbled word of thanks to the half dozen footmen awaiting the family’s pleasure in the breakfast room, Maddie fled through the kitchen and up the back stairs to her bedchamber. By now even the lofty Bancroft servants were used to her untraditional ways, and her escape warranted a mere nod from the head cook.

After she snatched up her bonnet and gloves from her dressing table, she hurried downstairs by the same route, exiting into the stable yard through the kitchen door.

Quin sat in the driver’s seat of the phaeton, waiting for her. “Finished breakfast already?” he asked, offering his hand as she nimbly clambered up beside him.

“You might have warned me earlier,” she answered, tying the bonnet under her chin.

“Here, Maddie, let me do that.”

She slapped his hand away and turned her shoulder to him. “I can manage, thank you very much.”

“Don’t you like me to touch you?” he murmured.

Maddie swallowed. “Yes. So don’t.”

Quin glanced at her, and then snapped the reins. The phaeton started smartly down the short path. They turned out onto the street, and he leaned closer. “You keep telling me you’re already ruined. What’s the harm—”

She’d been asking herself the same question—repeatedly. “I am not some actress or opera singer, Warefield. I suggest you find one of them to satisfy your baser needs.”

For a moment his expression darkened. “You’re fitting back into polite society quite well, my dear.”

“You make it sound like an insult. My fitting in
is
what
you
wanted, my dear.”

“Perhaps. But I wasn’t speaking of my ‘baser needs,’ as you call them. I was talking about desire, Maddie.”

She glanced at him, blushing. Everything was so much easier when they were arguing. “Well, stop that, too.”

Unexpectedly, he chuckled. “I can stop
talking
about it.”

She smiled reluctantly. “Sometimes—just sometimes—I’m glad I rescued you from Mr. Whitmore and Miss Marguerite.”

“
You
rescued
me
from that damned pig?”

“I should say so. If not for me, you—”

“
Maddie!
”

Startled, she whipped her head around. Standing outside a clothier’s shop were Lord and Lady Halverston, gaping at the phaeton as it passed by them.

Quin took one look at her face and pulled up the phaeton. “Who are they?” he snapped.

“My…my parents,” she choked out.

“Sweet….” he growled, and grabbed hold of her arm before she could jump from the carriage and make an escape.

He needn’t have worried. She couldn’t move. She couldn’t speak. She couldn’t utter a word. All she could do was stare at her parents, staring back at her.

“Oh, good heavens,” her mother continued, hiking up her skirt and running forward. “It is you. It is you! Maddie!”

The hack driver behind them whistled his annoyance, and Quin maneuvered the phaeton over to the side of the street—even though Maddie would much rather have grabbed the reins and fled. When he gently placed his hand over her clenched one, she jumped again.

“Go say hello,” he whispered.

She shook her head tightly. “I can’t. Just go.”

“Go where?”

“Anywhere.”

“I’m here, Maddie,” he said quietly, stroking his fin
gers over hers. “I promised, remember? Nothing will happen to you.”

His typical, self-confident arrogance brought her back to herself. “Where were you five years ago?” she muttered, and stood.

Hurriedly Quin tied down the reins and jumped to the ground. Before either of her parents reached them, he had moved to her side of the phaeton and reached up to take her hand. Reading the silent encouragement in his eyes, she grasped his fingers tightly and stepped down to face her parents.

“Mama, Papa,” she said, her voice miraculously steady. “You both look well.”

They stopped a few feet away, as though afraid she might bolt again if they came nearer. Her mother fluttered a handkerchief. “
We
look well? Where in the world have you been? Do you have any idea how worried we were when you vanished? You simply have no—”

Lord Halverston put a hand on his wife’s shoulder. “Please, Julia. There will be time for explanations later. Is this your husband, Maddie?”

Flabbergasted again, Maddie looked at Quin. With a slight grin he pulled free of her grip and stepped forward to hold out his hand. “Quin Bancroft,” he said amiably, glancing sideways at Maddie. “A friend.”

Lord Halverston shook his hand vigorously. “You are too modest, my lord. Julia, this is the Marquis of Warefield.”

Lady Halverston curtsied, her expression stunned and astonished, and her face nearly as white as Maddie’s. “My lord.”

Quin asked some innocuous question about when the family had arrived in London and Maddie glanced at him, grateful for the reprieve. She stood close beside him while he played the kind, pleasant marquis, and she
tried not to shake. Whatever she claimed about being able to stand on her own, she was very glad he was there.

Silently she studied her parents. Except for a little more gray peppering his temples, Robert Willits looked almost unchanged. When he made an effort to be pleasant, as he was doing now for Quin, the viscount could be very charming. What she remembered best about him, though, was the constant barrage of harsh, disapproving words he had for her stubbornness and lack of propriety, and the even worse words he’d bellowed about how she had forever disgraced herself and her family.

Her mother always seconded what her father said, mean and unfair as it frequently seemed. Today, though, Lady Halverston had eyes only for her daughter.

“How long have you been in London?” her mother asked.

She shrugged. “A few weeks.”

“A few weeks? Why didn’t you write? Why didn’t you let us know where you were?”

“I didn’t want you to know.”

“But you don’t mind that everyone else in London knows of your return?” Lord Halverston scowled at her.

She was familiar with the expression. “Coming here was not my idea.”

Quin stepped forward, taking her hand again and placing it over his arm. “My mother and my cousin are assisting with Miss Willits’s return to society. She was very kind to our family, and we are attempting to repay the favor.”

Again Maddie was grateful to the marquis, this time for keeping her past whereabouts a secret. “Your mother will be expecting us,” she lied, looking up at him hopefully.

“Yes,” he nodded. “I beg your pardon, Halverston, but the duchess hates to be kept waiting.”

“Of course,” her father hurriedly agreed.

“Perhaps you might wish to call on us this afternoon, at Bancroft House,” Quin continued.

“Oh, yes. Bancroft House. We’d be delighted.” The viscount nodded at Quin and shook his hand again.

“We’ll see you at two, then.”

Quin turned and helped Maddie back up into the phaeton. When he joined her on the seat she elbowed him hard in the ribs, unable to rein herself in any longer.

“Ouch. What was that for?”

“Traitor,” she muttered at him, trying not to stare at her parents.

“Coward,” he returned, whispering the word in her ear as he collected the reins. With her mother waving after them, he sent the rig back out into the street.

Maddie sat with her arms crossed over her chest, refusing to look in his direction again. No one could possibly be as annoying as he was and so kind and compassionate at the same time.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

“You had no right to invite them to call on me,” she snapped. “And I am not a coward.”

“I didn’t invite them to call on you,” he corrected, fleeting humor touching his eyes. “I invited them to call on
me
.”

“Oh, how gracious. I thought you were…on my side,” she said, searching for the right words. “But you weren’t, were you? You were just worried I’d cause a scene and embarrass you.”

“No, I—”

“Stop the phaeton. I’m getting out.”

“No, you’re not.” Before she could react, Quin grabbed her arm and yanked her closer. “Maddie, you’re upset. That’s all right. But please, don’t be angry at me for it. I
am
on your side. I’m trying to help, in my own dull, pompous way.”

For a moment she let herself lean against his strong, warm shoulder and closed her eyes. It was so absurd that she could be mad enough to spit at him, and at the same time want nothing more than to just melt into his arms.

With a glance at the crowded walkways, she straightened. Melting in the middle of Mayfair would be decidedly unwise. “None of this mess was part of your bargain with Mr. Bancroft, you know.”

He grinned. “I didn’t bargain for a great deal of this, truth be told, Maddie. But I can’t say I’m sorry for any of it.”

“Well, that’s one of us,” she said, with as much sarcasm as she could muster.

“Oh, come now,” he chided, obviously not fooled a bit. “If you could reconcile with your parents, wouldn’t you want to? Your mother certainly seemed pleased to see you.”

So she had. “Don’t tell them where I’ve been, please.”

“Your secret is safe with me,” he said. Quin drew a long breath. “Maddie?”

She looked at him, watching her with serious green eyes. “Yes?”

He held her gaze for a long moment, then shook himself and faced forward again. “Nothing.”

As soon as they returned to Bancroft House, Maddie fled upstairs to change. Just in case, Quin instructed the gardener to let him know if she tried to make an escape out her window. She seemed resigned to speaking with her parents again, but her temperament could be rather mercurial. And he didn’t want to risk losing her now. Not until he’d figured things out.

He made his way up to the morning room to inform his mother of the Willitses’ impending visit.

“Mama, Maddie’s parents are in London,” he said, pushing the door open and strolling into the room. “I’ve invited them….” Belatedly he noticed his mother’s guest. “Eloise? I thought you would be visiting Lady Landrey this morning.”

Eloise sipped her tea, her blue eyes regarding him warmly. “The poor thing canceled the brunch. Seems her son’s been sent down from Cambridge in disgrace.”

“I’m surprised Lester was tolerated as long as he was.” Quin sat beside her and motioned to a footman for another cup.

“Yes, it’s amazing what a healthy endowment will do for one’s patience,” she smiled. “Sugar?”

“No, thank you.”

“What were you saying about Maddie’s parents?” The duchess set aside her embroidery and regarded her son.

“We ran across them this morning.”

His mother sat forward. “How did they react?”

Quin stifled a smile. Much as she tried to remain aloof, the Duchess of Highbarrow had completely fallen for Maddie’s considerable charms. “I’m not certain. Her mother seemed relieved, but her father was apparently more interested in meeting me.”

“Can you blame him?” Eloise chuckled. “A ruined bit or the future Duke of Highbarrow?”

“Yes, but the ‘ruined bit,’ as you call her, is his daughter—whom he hasn’t seen in five years.” Quin glanced at his second cousin, annoyed. She didn’t sound very much like a willing confederate.

“You said you invited them somewhere,” his mother broke in. “Here, I presume?”