Formidable Lord Quentin (22 page)

Bell breathed deeply, and her frozen insides melted into
warm and happy. She couldn’t wait until orderly, proper Quent came down to see
his reaction to chaos, family style. She helped herself to a cup of tea,
removed a piece of toast from Beebee’s fine golden curls, and returned a fork
to Kit’s hand when he attempted to imitate the toddler and use his fingers for
the eggs.

“I apologize for the accommodations,” she told Mr. Thomas,
the tutor, and Aunt Griselda, who had insisted that as a mere companion, she
ought to be housed on the third floor. “I’ll have the staff find better
chambers on the second floor until repairs are made. Perhaps the library might
suit for a schoolroom. The beauty of starting a new household is that we can
adapt everything to our needs and not adhere to tradition.”

Bell had never thought such anarchy before, but she loved
the notion now. Edward would have had a conniption fit if she’d changed one
single piece of furniture. Now, she could gut the interior if she wished—Belden
wouldn’t know the difference, or care. She helped herself to tea and gazed out
the tall windows, smiling even more broadly.

The rain had settled into a fine mist, leaving the grass and
trees green and glistening like the hills of home. She was glad of the excuse
to leave London and play house, but she wasn’t in the habit of ignoring greater
problems. Bell sipped her tea and pondered her next step.

She had no intention of being relegated to the position of
ornament again. She would not let Quent take over her family’s affairs.

As if summoned by her thought, he entered, dressed for
travel in leather breeches and boots, with his dark stubble freshly shaved.
Penrose was with him, but he was wearing country tweed and shoes. Interesting.
Bell wondered what they’d planned without her. Not that she was any less guilty
of planning without
them
.

“Good morning, gentlemen,” she said smoothly, slipping into
her seat at the head of the table. “What is appropriate yacht attire?” She was
already wearing her travel gown.

Quent quirked an eyebrow and filled a plate from the buffet.
“It’s too muddy for the horses, but a good day for a sail. I thought I’d go
into town and finish up some business.”

“Similar minds and all that,” Bell said airily. “I seem to
have business as well. You won’t mind if I travel with you, will you?”

He narrowed his eyes and set a plate of food down in front
of her, as if this were a midnight buffet, and he was her courteous escort.
“It’s best if you stay here, out of sight, with the children.”

Bell simply nodded thanks for the plate. She had no
intention of eating if she was to go sailing.

“You promised to take us sailing,” Syd reminded him. “I want
to go, too.”

Before Quent could object, Tess spoke up. “I think Beebee is
coming down with a cold. I’d best stay here with her. But if you’re going into
town, perhaps someone could pick up the pelisses we ordered.”

Bell smiled evilly at Quent over her teacup. He looked
nonplussed by the various family demands. He was much too accustomed to his
bachelor household, and her family wasn’t as easily dismissed as his distant
one.

“The water is likely to be a little too choppy for lessons,”
he said, filling his own plate and taking a seat at Bell’s right hand—at the
opposite end of the table from Kit. “I’ll be traveling swiftly, in any case.
We’ll save the lesson for a sunny day.”

Before Syd could offer another objection, Bell intervened.
“Mr. Summerby might appreciate sailing with you. We can return his mount later.”

“Actually, he rode mine,” Penrose said, taking a seat at the
center of the table, near Syd and Tess. “I rode Quent’s gelding. I think
Summerby would far prefer the yacht.”

“Excellent. That’s settled.” Bell raised her teacup, and
with a firm stare, dared Quent to object. “We can conduct our business on the
journey. I think the girls have sufficient chaperonage and protection here. The
only matter remaining is finding someone to repair the roof while we’re gone.”

“I can have that done,” Penrose said without hesitation. “I
acted as my family’s steward until they sold the estate. I have a pretty good
notion of costs.”

Quent swallowed his coffee black, sat back, and frowned.
“I’m leaving you here to act in my place, Penrose. You’re to keep blackguards
away from the family.”

“Maybe I’ll hire him as
my
steward,” Bell said sweetly. Hiring servants and ordering a household about
were accomplishments she had learned early on. “They’re my family and not your
responsibility.”

“They’re my father’s wards,” Quent countered. “Quit
quibbling just because you can.”

“Then don’t quibble when I say I’m coming with you. This is
what I’ve been trying to tell you— I am, at the very least, your
equal
, Hoyt. I am not a figurine to be
set on the shelf until it’s convenient for you to notice me.”

He leered over his coffee cup. “Notice, I can do.”

“Nice dodge,” Penrose muttered, watching them with interest.

Bell ignored the male byplay. “Tess, I’ll leave you in
charge. You know where I keep coins if you need anything. I cannot promise I’ll
be back immediately. Help the housekeeper situate the children and the others
to dry chambers. Tell her the new linens should be arriving shortly. Let the
footmen answer doors. Mr. Penrose, don’t allow strangers on the property,
please. If you need help, both my grooms and my footmen know how to use
firearms.”

Tess and Syd stared at her. Bell shrugged. She didn’t want
to disillusion them about the disreputable elements of their family. Let them
think she feared kidnappers on a general basis.

“Now that everyone is suitably terrified, including me, you
had best have your maid pack bags. I might be gone for a while,” Quent said
grumpily.

“I am capable of returning anytime I like without your aid.
I’m thinking of buying another carriage, and I know how to hire one,” Bell said
loftily.

She did, however, fret over what he had planned.

***

Quent had wanted to catch the end of the turbulent storm
winds and see what speed he could wring from his sleekly-designed ship, but his
two passengers already looked a trifle green. Summerby was wrapped up in his
redingote and just needed a muffler to complete the image of terrified hostler.

Bell, being Bell, carelessly wrapped an arm around a mast
and strained to see the shore. She’d knotted her hem into a loop so the skirt
didn’t trip her up and wore a scarf around her hair and jaw, hiding her
expression—not that she would allow anyone to see her distress. That she’d
anchored herself to the mast instead of striding around, inspecting everything,
told Quent all he needed to know of her fear.

With regret, he turned the wheel over to his first mate.
Taking Bell’s elbow, he pried her loose from the timber. “We can talk below.”

Summerby willingly followed them out of the wind. The cabin
was small. Quent had never meant it to be more than a place to escape the
weather. He settled Bell on a cushioned bench and let Summerby take a seat
across from her. Quent remained standing, lounging against the bulkhead.

He had no intention of discussing horse removal in front of
a solicitor. Instead, he launched into the matter paramount in his mind. “I’ll
have the banns called
and
obtain a
special license so we will be prepared to marry however you like and as soon as
the settlements are signed. Summerby here can arrange it so what’s yours will
remain yours, but prohibiting me from investing your funds is foolish. I can advise
you better than Summerby. I can probably increase your income faster than
you’re currently spending it.”

Bell glared. “I am not a risk taker. You are. And it’s not
as simple as that. We have two separate townhouses, Belden Hall, Kit’s estate,
your father’s monstrous castle, plus all the costs of our various families. It
could take years to settle all our differences. I simply don’t see the point in
marriage. Tell your father that I can take care of my family just fine, if
he’ll leave them to me.”

Quent hated reducing marriage to a quarrel over funds, but
at least he understood the basis of her fear. He resented that she thought him
no better than Edward, but she had no way of knowing differently.

If their problems were limited only to money, he knew he
would ultimately win. But the obstacles between them were much more
challenging. She had a place in society that she would have to give up if she
married him. He had a bachelor life that he preferred. Each day, more subtle
complications raised their ugly heads. She had a right to be afraid—he was
terrified.

But he’d negotiated himself through worse predicaments. All
he had to do was keep his damned obstinate father in line.

Quent braced his legs against the sway of the ship and met
her glare without flinching. “You may declare yourself my equal, but all of
Parliament and most of England would disagree. You cannot be named guardian. I
can. And we can sell all the unentailed property and build a castle, if that’s
what you wish. I don’t know how many more reassurances I need to give you.”

“Perhaps, my lady,” Summerby said pacifyingly, “you could let
me speak directly with Lord Quentin’s advisors, and the settlements can be
drawn out without the emotional attachments. I’ll give them your requests
concerning expenditures, but we cannot resolve differences on who makes the
decisions. I fear that’s a problem all marriages face.”

“I want a legal statement from Lord Belden that he will appoint
Quent as guardian upon our marriage, and I want a statement from Quent agreeing
to let me make decisions about my family’s future,” Bell said adamantly.

Quent hid his grin. He was finally turning the corner—she
was admitting that she
might
marry
him. The statement from his father . . . might take sabers and
dirks.

“Then I’ll have to insist on making all decisions for
my
family’s future,” Quent said silkily.
“If my sisters want to throw themselves away on penniless suitors, I stand in
my father’s stead and can reject their offers.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. If they’re good men—and your sisters
would never choose otherwise—I’ll simply fund them as I have my other
protégées,” Bell said belligerently.

He could tell the instant she realized she’d just agreed to
dower his penniless sisters. She frowned and quite wonderfully shut up.

“Let’s start there, Summerby,” Quent told the solicitor.
Taking a page from Bell’s book on a silent ending to an argument, he refrained
from crowing over his skills as a negotiator. “My lady, would you like a stroll
about the deck now that you have your sea legs?”

She eyed him suspiciously but took his hand.

“I don’t know if I qualify as having sea legs,” she
protested. “We are still only on the river, aren’t we?”

Quent shrugged. “On a day like this, the river qualifies.
Mostly, it’s a matter of accepting that you can’t bridle wind and water as one
does a horse.”

“But the sails do that, do they not?” she asked, emerging on
the deck and looking about with more interest than earlier. “Ropes and canvas
are a form of bridle?”

“And the rudder, yes, I suppose.” Leaving the solicitor
safely ensconced in the cabin, he found a spot where the wind didn’t blow Bell’s
hair about as much and bluntly launched into the next argument. “I understand
the horse is important to you, but you do agree that Kit’s future is more
important than a horse?”

“Of course,” she said with irritation. “I simply don’t
intend to give in to the demands of a bully and a whore on either matter. I had
no objection to my uncle living in that hovel and eking out a living as best as
he could. He
is
family, after all.
But I will not tolerate being threatened.”

“We don’t know that your uncle is the one doing the
threatening, since his wife could have sent the stable hand to do her bidding
without his knowledge. Women are capable of almost anything in the interest of
their children. She presumably wants better for them than she had.” Quent was
merely testing Bell’s knowledge of the people she’d left behind so he could arrange
his plans to suit. He had no illusion that a woman demanding a title that
wasn’t hers had Bell’s finer sensibilities.

Bell wrinkled her delicate nose. “I cannot imagine Dolly as
anything other than self-centered. If she wants her children to advance in the
world, it will be because she wants them to take care of her. But really, I
need to talk to any of the remaining tenants. They can tell me more of Dream
and her offspring then Dolly is likely to acknowledge. Da was daft but never
mean. He left me Dream’s papers. He wanted me to have my horse if she was still
alive, if Edward ever relented. Jim can’t keep her from me.”

“He can if he hides her. And if you want the offspring as
well, the matter grows more complicated.” Quent concealed his alarm behind calm
reasoning. He didn’t want her traveling to Ireland and confronting dangerous
relatives, but denying her would only make her more determined. “Nick is
practicing to be a diplomat, and his wife is quite good. Let them assess the
situation.”

Despite her finely sculpted features, Bell managed to look
mulish. “I want
all
Dream’s
offspring. Jim shouldn’t be left with animals, much less people. We don’t need
drawn-out court battles. I can buy him off.”

Quent’s alarm escalated. He tamped it down behind cold logic.
“Let Nick scout the territory first. Once we know how the ground lies, we can
storm the castle. A little planning will clear the field and achieve everything
you seek.”

She continued scowling. “This isn’t war. This is a usurper
who needs his head removed.”

“And you’re not a medieval queen who can shout
Off with his head!
Besides, any queen
who wanted to keep her own head didn’t shout that unless she’d already planned
and plotted and knew it was safe to do so. Admit that Nick is in a better
position to go in as a stranger and do the planning for you.” Quent loved the
way her eyes shot fire as she considered his advice.