Smitten by the Spinster (17 page)

After Lizzie’s exchange with Quinn in the hallway, something had snapped in her, and while she wasn’t about to tell him the whole truth, she decided to lead him to it. For whatever reason, she didn’t want to go home with another mercenary marriage on her conscience. Catie Ferguson deserved to be with someone she actually loved, and who loved her.

After she asked a few servants, she finally found one who had seen Quinn. She raced to find him before she lost her nerve, arriving breathlessly in the small room where he sat alone, staring out at the rain. When she saw the worry etched all over his face, she felt a little sturdier in her resolve, hoping she could ease a bit of it for him.

“Just talk to Catie,” she said, after telling him he was right to not give his assent to Edwin straight away. “And be watchful. Perhaps Lord Hollingsborn will tell you what you need to know with his actions.”

“If ye mean to tell me something, speak out about it will ye?” he asked.

Lizzie didn’t want to tell him flat out about the gambling debt or give him a definitive answer, because then she would be suspect for her earlier enthusiasm for the match. And she wasn’t convinced Edwin was a terrible person. Quinn himself had a few bad habits, by his own admission. Didn’t everyone deserve love and a second chance and all that rot? She knew she clung to that as a salve to her conscience, but at least she gave him a bit of warning.

“I have nothing in particular to tell,” she said, feeling a twinge. “You may see good as well as bad. But you must look for yourself.”

“Aye, that’s wise. I shall speak to Catie right now, before we gather for the evening.” He quickly pressed her hand and gave her a wry smile, nodding behind him at a chessboard on the table. “I should rather have a quiet game with ye, than what we’re certain to be put through.”

“I’m sure it’ll be lovely,” she said, but silently agreeing that spending a few quiet hours alone with him sounded heavenly.

When she’d gone to borrow the jewelry, Lady Hollingsborn had told her she would be sleeping downstairs with the servants, and any other time the sting would have been worse than any wasp could deliver. Today, she merely pushed down the slight humiliation she felt and smiled sweetly at the smug woman. Perhaps she wouldn’t have anything to be so smug about soon, and would have to start a fresh hunt for a different heiress. Lizzie told herself she didn’t care and vowed not to find out from any old social registers when she made it back to her own time.

Feeling she’d done the best she could, her heart was as light as it was going to get. She gave Catie an extravagant hairstyle, glad to see she seemed in a better mood than before her nap. However, she didn’t seem in any mood to share what she and Quinn talked about and Lizzie found she could barely contain her curiosity.

As soon as dinner was over and everyone gathered together again for the impromptu musical entertainment, she began hissing questions at Quinn, practically pulling his head into her lap so Catie wouldn’t hear.

“How did your conversation with Catie go?”

He grinned at her eagerness, then shook his head. “She’s quite angry with me,” he confessed. “Again. It’s a good lesson not to have children really, as it seems there is no making them happy.”

He scowled at his sister over her head and she turned to see Catie returning the look with heaping helpings of venom. After she made a show of sitting down next to Edwin, causing a muscle to nearly burst in Quinn’s jaw, he finally settled into telling her how badly the conversation went.

“It seems she is determined to marry him,” he said sourly. “I canna outright forbid it, as I have no reason to do so.” He shrugged and leaned back in his chair, wincing at the first strains of the musician’s instruments warming up.

Say something, the annoying little voice in her head urged, all the while making her chest ache with some odd emotion she didn’t want to identify.

“Give it a day or two,” Lizzie said. “She’s emotional today, and the rain has thrown everyone off.”

“We are from the Highlands, lass,” he reminded her incredulously. “A wee bit of weather has never put her in such a state before.”

Lizzie hid her smile behind her hand. “Well, love can make you quite mad.”

His eyes widened at that unsavory thought. “I pray it hasna come to that. I shall keep an eye on him as ye suggested. Perhaps he’ll get drunk and pick a fight and give me a reason to deny his claim.” He stared at the back of Edwin’s head.

“Yes, or perhaps he’ll give you reason to believe he’s a good match for Catie,” she said. “Don’t propose a game of cards, though. It’s said he’s not very good at them.” She tried to keep a neutral face as Quinn’s expression turned thoughtful. If she planted the seed, he could find out from any loose tongued gossip just how bad a gambler Edwin was.

“I dinna mind an easy win,” he said. “If he cares to part with his money, I’m happy to take it from him.”

Lizzie had to look away to hide her eye roll. Quinn was as bad as Edwin when it came to gambling, and he was being positively thick headed. None of her hints were getting through that golden-maned skull of his and she didn’t know how she could be any more obvious.

“You’re incorrigible,” she laughed.

“Aye, it’s been said,” he agreed.

When Edwin’s mother suggested the older guests retire for the night, Lizzie saw the shameless gleam in her eye. The unprincipled woman probably thought a few unsupervised hours would throw Catie and Edwin closer together, perhaps even into something compromising.

Lizzie felt a sick jolt of shock, hoping that wasn’t the reason she’d been ignominiously moved down to the servant’s quarters. No, surely not. At any rate, she’d warn Catie to make sure her door was firmly locked, maybe even risk scaring her into pushing a chair in front of it until morning.

Her concern was cut off by Quinn taking her by the shoulders and whirling her into his arms for a dance. With a gasp, she pulled away and quickly looked around. It was like any hedonistic house party she’d ever been to in the twenty-first century, with couples swaying in each other’s arms, and loud boisterous laughter from every direction. One of the guests plinked out a tune on the harpsichord, but it could barely be heard over the din. Thankfully, Catie was safe, chatting with a group of young ladies. Lizzie turned to Quinn, who smiled down at her, his eyes bright against his slightly flushed cheeks. He licked his lips and she felt herself do the same. The happy gleam in the blue of his eyes turned to something else, something infinitely more wicked.

“Dance with me, Miss Burnet?” he asked with a bow. “I do so like holding ye in my arms.”

Had she just imagined him saying such a thing? And the look in his eyes? She’d only had one glass of wine since dinner, but felt tipsy nonetheless from his nearness. Before she could answer either way, he swept her close to his chest, swaying seductively, his smile questioning. She knew she should haughtily inform him that he was drunk, and push away, but instead reached up to rest her hands on his broad shoulders and returned the smile.

“It’s only a dance,” she sighed against his chest, thinking he wouldn’t hear.

“Aye, only a dance,” he assured, pulling her tighter against him.

The inner turmoil that she thought she might dodge for once, pounced out at her, attacking with its sharpest knives. It told her to collect Catie and go upstairs without delay, barricade her in her room and then hide out in the servant’s wing until morning, when the roads would hopefully be passable and they could get back to normal.

But you’re going home in a few days, she told herself as she rested her cheek against his solid chest. His fingers ran down the middle of her back and rested at her waist. She wanted his hands to keep moving downward and slid her arms around his neck. He looked down at her with a tender smile. What could it hurt to indulge?

Yes, you’re going home in a few days, she repeated to herself, this time with a new, harsh tone to her thoughts. And when you get back, he’ll have been dead for hundreds of years. That line of thinking tore through her painfully and she quickly shied away from it.

She tilted her head back to return his smile, then leaned close again, feeling how warm and alive and
now
 he was. She was sick of waiting to get her life back and wanted to live in the moment for the first time in more than a year. At that very second she didn’t care if she never got back to her own time, content for once right where she was.

Lizzie tipped her chin up again and saw Quinn looking over her head, a frown on his face. He set her away from him, causing her to sway at the loss of his big, strong body. She turned around to see what he scowled at. A few of the boys had begun a game of cards in the corner and boisterously called out wagers and challenges. Her stomach turned over to see Edwin heading that way.

“I think I should go see what he’s about,” Quinn said, absently taking her hand in his. “Do ye agree?”

She did not agree, but even with his thumb moving back and forth against her palm, her good sense returned. Really, what had she planned on doing? She needed distance from him, and fast, because she had been that close to making a fool of herself.

“This will be the perfect opportunity to see if Lord Hollingsborn is a gambling wastrel,” he said, clearly excited about the prospect of finding fault with Edwin.

Were her feelings hurt? She found that they were, a little. She’d been about to, what? Offer herself to him, and all he wanted to do was go spy on his future brother-in-law? Or worse, win some money off him? She felt so stupid, she had to sit down. With a grimace of shame, she waved him away.

“Go get him,” she said, as she made her way to the bank of chairs set up on the other side of the room.

She spent a while sitting alone, sipping at some wine and trying to get a grip, keeping up a mental stream of contempt toward herself until she was exhausted. Quinn clearly had a reputation, this was something she knew from Catie’s hints, and with his extreme level of good looks, of course he got action wherever he went. She was a dalliance, nothing more.

She felt more hurt and outrage as she watched him throwing back drinks at the gaming table. He didn’t give a whit about her. She might as well have been one of the maids. In fact, he’d probably been sleeping with a steady supply of maids since he’d got to London. She accepted another glass of wine and wracked her brain, trying to remember if any of the girls at the Amberly’s house seemed especially smug or satisfied during the last weeks. Her fists curled in her lap. For some reason, the possibility made her even angrier, and the fact that it did made her angrier still. As if she cared who Quinn was with.

Edwin skidded to a halt in front of her chair. She looked up at him in surprise, wondering why he wasn’t at the gaming tables anymore.

“Miss Burnet, please come at once,” he said. “Miss Ferguson is ill and asking for you.”

She bolted after him to the veranda, only pausing for a moment to wonder why they were out there in the first place, and shaking her head at the fine job Quinn had done at keeping an eye on Edwin. He was so wrapped up in his games, he didn’t even notice the two sneaking off to a romantic, secluded location.

Catie stood huddled by a potted pear tree, pale and grim. Her look of relief at seeing Lizzie made her feel a little better. For the last few days, Catie had been acting distant and moody, and Lizzie couldn’t figure out what she’d done to upset her. She hurried to her side and took her by the arm.

“Catie, dear, what’s wrong?”

Catie leaned against her. “Too much wine, perhaps. Please dinna tell Quinn. I only want to get to sleep.”

Lizzie shooed the hovering Edwin away and led Catie to her room and helped her undress. She stoked the fire herself and poured a glass of water to set on the bedside table, then tucked Catie tightly under the covers.

“Oh I forgot. You’ll have to get up and lock the door behind me,” she said.

Catie closed her eyes and Lizzie pulled the blankets back off her. “I’m quite serious, Catie. Everyone has had far too much to drink. You must lock the door behind me and push a chair against it as well. Open if for no one in the night.”

Her eyes flew open. “Am I in danger?” she asked.

“Most likely not, but I’d rather err on the side of caution. Would you rather I stay with you tonight?”

Catie sighed and swung her legs over the side of the bed, hoisting herself up as if it was the greatest chore. “I’ll lock the door and push the chair in front of it,” she said.

Lizzie felt her cheeks flame at the dismissal, and searched her face for an answer to why she’d started disliking her. She knew she shouldn’t care, that Catie was her charge and nothing more. The last girl she’d worked for had hated her outright to the point of physically harming her with pinches and slaps and that had barely irritated her, not twisted her heart like Catie’s eagerness to be rid of her did.

“I’ll see you in the morning,” she said, not wanting to leave.

She wanted to make things right, and make sure Catie stayed safe through the night. She patted her arm and gave a smile which wasn’t returned.

“Good night, Miss Burnet,” Catie said.

Lizzie waited to hear the click of the lock and nodded when she also heard the scraping of the chair being dragged over, a soft thunk as Catie pushed it against the door.