‘But will she, knowing that gossip will be rife? You should take her to London, Quinn. Show the ton that you are not ashamed of your wife.’
‘Of course I am not ashamed of her!’ The frown deepened to a scowl as he recalled Jack Downing’s disparaging remarks. He said curtly, ‘I will not force her to go to town until she is ready.’
‘She will never be ready if you keep her hidden away here, my friend.’
Quinn drained his glass and pushed back his chair. ‘Shall we join the ladies?’
Chapter Ten
The golden glow of the evening sun had been replaced by candlelight by the time Quinn and Tony returned to the drawing room, although the long doors to the terrace were thrown wide to allow in the balmy night air. The gentlemen’s quiet entrance went unnoticed and they both remained by the door, unwilling to cause a distraction. Serena was at the piano, playing a sonata, while Lottie sat beside her, turning the pages. Quinn had not seen Serena play before, although he had occasionally heard the melodic strains of the piano filtering through the house, but Serena always left the instrument as soon as he appeared.
He stood now, entranced by the performance, until the final note died away.
‘Bravo, my lady.’ Tony applauded enthusiastically.
‘She is very good, isn’t she?’ said Lottie. ‘I could never play Scarlatti.’
‘That is because you will not take the trouble to practise,’ retorted her fond spouse. ‘But Quinn here is an excellent pianist. Has he played for you, Serena?’
‘Not yet, but I had guessed he was musical because this is such a beautiful instrument.’ She ran her hands over the keys. ‘It is kept in tune, too. Do you do that yourself, my lord?’
‘No. Houston’s send someone out from town to do it.’
Lottie said mischievously, ‘I think the two of you should play a duet for us.’
Serena quickly vacated her seat at the piano, blushing and shaking her head.
‘Perhaps we shall,’ said Quinn, ‘when we have had the opportunity to practise together.’
Serena said hastily, ‘Lottie, you were telling me about the new Italian songs you have purchased. Perhaps you would sing one of them?’ She glanced at the clock. ‘We have time, before I order the tea tray.’
‘Yes indeed,’ declared Tony. ‘Since you made me send for the sheet music, at vast expense, may I say, I should like to see what we get for our money!’
Knowing that Tony would not deny his wife anything, Quinn laughed at that.
‘Yes, come along, Lottie,’ he said, taking Serena’s arm and drawing her down on the sofa beside him. ‘It is your turn to entertain us.’
* * *
Serena tried to concentrate on the singing, but all she could think of was Quinn sitting beside her. He was at his ease, one arm along the back of the sofa. Surely it was mere imagination that she could feel the heat of it on her spine. If she were to relax just a little, she was sure she would feel his hand against her shoulders. The thought was strangely exciting, but frightening, too. After last night, would he think she was teasing him? He might be offended. He might even move away and that was the last thing she wanted.
Serena remained rigidly upright, fixing her attention upon Lottie’s performance and trying to forget how close Quinn was, his muscular thigh almost touching hers, his fingers only inches from her back. She thought she would be pleased when the song was over, but when it ended and Quinn sat up to applaud she found herself wishing she had taken advantage of the situation, had settled herself against her husband and enjoyed a moment of closeness with him. He might even have welcomed it. If only she had made the attempt, but now the moment was gone and all that was left was regret, bitter as gall. Nothing of this showed in her face, however, as she went over to the bell to ring for tea, but she was aware of Quinn’s eyes upon her and could not help wondering if he, too, was regretting the lost opportunity.
Conversation was desultory while Serena prepared and served tea to her guests. When Sir Anthony came over to take his cup from her, he remarked cheerfully that he hoped she had not found her first dinner party at Melham Court too onerous.
‘Not at all,’ she told him, smiling. ‘It has been a pleasure.’
‘And for me, also,’ declared Lottie. ‘It is the first time I have ever dined here.’
‘Truly?’ Serena’s brows lifted in surprise.
‘As a bachelor I could not invite respectable females to dine here,’ explained Quinn.
‘Not that he invited any females to dine here,’ Tony added hastily.
Quinn was grinning and Serena felt emboldened to reply.
‘No, he told me he had not moved here to be sociable.’
‘Which makes this quite an occasion,’ added Lottie. She threw her husband a triumphant glance. ‘And therefore merited my buying a new gown!’
‘Not that you ever require an excuse,’ said Tony.
The loving smile he gave his wife sent a tiny dart through Serena. It felt very like jealousy. Not that it was Sir Anthony she wanted to look at her in quite that way, of course. She glanced from Lottie’s canary-yellow gown to her own grey skirts.
‘When I looked at my wardrobe this evening I realised that it is all a little...sober. I must remedy that with all speed. Is there a reliable local seamstress, ma’am, or should I look to town?’
‘Oh, it must be London, without question,’ replied Lottie. ‘There is not enough business here to provide a living for a good seamstress.’
‘Then I shall send to town in the morning—’
‘No need for that,’ Quinn interrupted her. ‘I shall take you there myself.’
Serena was so surprised that she almost dropped her teacup. She carefully lowered it back into its saucer before turning a questioning glance at her husband. He met her eyes with a smile.
‘I think it is time I showed off my wife to the world.’
* * *
‘Did you mean what you said last night, about going to town?’
Serena and Quinn were at breakfast and, with servants in attendance, she asked the question with as casual an air as she could manage.
‘Of course. Johnson is already looking for a suitable house for us. You need any number of gowns and it will be much more convenient than having dozens of seamstresses coming to Melham Court. Mrs Talbot must remain here, of course, but we will take Dunnock with us and he will ensure we are comfortable. Many families will have removed from London by now, but I hope there will be sufficient amusements to entertain us.’ Quinn paused to select a bread roll from the proffered basket and waited for the footman to withdraw before he continued. ‘We must face society sooner or later, Serena.’
She flushed. ‘You mean I must face up to the scandal I have caused.’
‘Yes, but you will not be alone. I shall be with you.’
She glanced towards the door, to make sure they could not be overheard.
‘I have seen the newspaper reports. I know what they are saying of me. That I, that I—’
‘That you eloped with your lover, but forsook him when a wealthier catch appeared. The wealthier catch being myself, although names were not spelled out.’
Her head dropped. ‘Yes.’
‘Do not be too downcast. Newspapers are notorious for giving too much space to gossip and speculation and not enough to serious matters, such as the riots in East Anglia and the atrocious weather, which will cause food shortages throughout the country.’
‘That will affect us all, will it not?’ she asked him, momentarily diverted. ‘What will you do if your tenants have a bad harvest?’
‘I can forgo the rents, although I can do nothing about the rise in the price of bread.’
‘But perhaps you should be here, if there is likely to be unrest?’
‘Johnson has been my steward and secretary for years, he knows my
ways and can deal with everything in my absence. We will leave at the end of the week, if that is convenient to you?’
‘Perfectly, my lord.’
She could not keep the doubtful note from her voice. Quinn pushed back his chair and came to stand behind her, resting his hands lightly on her shoulders.
‘We will face down the gossips, never fear.’ He gave a short laugh. ‘The newspapers are currently speculating on the end of the world, following reports of the earthquake in Scotland! There can be no interest in our little scandal.’
‘I devoutly hope you are right, sir.’
* * *
Lord Quinn’s travelling coach bowled into London on a rainy late-August day, when the sky was dark with lowering grey clouds. There had been little for Serena to do regarding the arrangements. Quinn’s excellent steward had found three houses that were available for the summer and Quinn had suggested they take the most fashionable and expensive.
‘There is only one detail you might not approve,’ he had explained, when they went over the details together. ‘There is a connecting door between our bedchambers. However, you have my word I shall never come into your room unless I am invited. You will have to trust me on that point, Serena.’
Serena had agreed to it because she knew enough of Quinn now to believe he would keep his word. However, as they pulled up at the steps of the elegant town house in Berkeley Square, she experienced a little shimmer of apprehension, although it had little to do with the sleeping arrangements. She would much rather be in a quiet street than in such a busy square. Gunter’s tea shop was situated close by and it was a popular destination for the ton, who could even order ices to be brought to them in their carriages. There would be a constant stream of the rich and fashionable walking or driving past their door.
Quinn gave her fingers a squeeze as he helped her down from the carriage.
‘Head up and smile,’ he murmured, pulling her hand on to his arm. ‘If we are going to cause a stir, then we are well placed here to give everyone something to talk about.’
* * *
One of Serena’s first tasks was to write to her sister-in-law. Dorothea replied by return, making it plain that the seaside was proving so beneficial to little Arthur’s health that she would not be cutting short her visit. However, a note to Elizabeth Downing was followed up almost immediately by Mrs Downing and her daughter calling in person and they left Serena in no doubt of their continued friendship.
This was comforting, but since neither Serena nor Quinn had made efforts to contact anyone else in London, she expected her arrival in the capital to pass almost unnoticed. However, during those first weeks, while she was still, in Quinn’s words, making herself fit to be seen, a steady trickle of calling cards appeared at the house and the invitation cards lining the mantelpiece grew apace.
Not that Serena had much opportunity to dwell upon the number of invitations. She spent her days visiting warehouses, where she picked out ells of exquisite materials which were then taken to the modistes to be made up into gowns for every occasion. There were also trips to milliners, glovemakers, shoemakers and anyone else who could provide the accessories so essential to a lady of fashion.
Quinn had ordered that Serena was to have the finest of everything and no expense was to be spared. He even accompanied her on some of her outings, including an early call he insisted that she pay to Mrs Bell, to choose a new walking dress. When that celebrated seamstress suggested a pastel blue twill for Lady Quinn he was quick to reject it.
‘No, no, such washed-out shades drain her of colour,’ he barked. ‘Try that one.’ He pointed to a bolt of rich turquoise cloth on a high shelf.
Serena’s eye had already been drawn to the material but she had allowed herself to be persuaded to look at the pale pinks and blues that Mrs Bell assured her were all the rage. Quinn’s brusque intervention made the seamstress bridle a little, but she was too sensible to take umbrage at the interference of such a wealthy customer. However, when Serena stood before the looking glass with a length of the material draped across her shoulder, Mrs Bell was the first to admit that it was the perfect colour for my lady.
‘It is merino wool, madam, although not at all heavy. It will make up beautifully into the military style that you have requested.’ She stood behind Serena, gazing over her shoulder into the mirror. ‘We shall add epaulettes, frogging and braid, and I suggest half-boots of kid, dyed to match. You will need a shirt of the finest cambric, of course, and a cravat. And on your head, we should have something simple, I think, such as a small round hat of moss silk. What say you to that, my lord? If you prefer we might have a jockey cap, or a silk cap and ostrich feathers...’
‘As though you were suddenly the foremost connoisseur of female attire,’ Serena told him as he escorted her back to their carriage. She giggled. ‘I do not know how I kept my countenance when you told her you knew nothing of such things.’
‘It is the truth,’ he replied. ‘I leave such details to you to decide.’ As he handed her into the coach he added darkly, ‘As long as the result does not make you look like a dowd.’
‘I shall do my best to make sure of that, my lord. But I think you may be assured that Mrs Bell will do her best to please.’
‘Good.’ He paused in the doorway, one booted foot on the step. ‘Now, what are your plans for the rest of the day? Do you wish to visit more warehouses? Or mayhap you wish to go to Bond Street. If that is the case I shall send you back to Berkeley Square to collect your maid. I, on the other hand, believe I deserve a reward for spending the morning discussing frills and furbelows.’
‘You do indeed.’ Serena smiled, wondering which of the clubs he would visit. She was therefore surprised at his next words.
‘I thought I might look in at Somerset House. The Royal Academy. Perhaps you might like to come with me.’
Quinn was busy rubbing at a mark on his boot and not looking at her, so she had no clue as to what he wished her to say.
‘I would like that very much.’
‘Excellent.’ Quinn threw up a word to the driver and climbed into the carriage. ‘I thought you might enjoy it—I remember your interest in the Titian.’
Serena turned to gaze out of the window as a tell-tale flush burned her cheeks. She had not forgotten her first morning at Melham Court, coming downstairs in her ruined gown and feeling more than a little shy. They had discussed the Venus and he had conversed with her as an equal. He had made her forget, for a short while, her disastrous situation.
A sigh escaped her. ‘I fear you have paid a high price for your kindness to me that night, my lord.’
To her surprise he smiled. ‘I think it might cost me a grand tour. Now the war is over we could travel extensively on the Continent. Would you like that, Serena?’ He raised his brows. ‘What have I said to make you look so shocked? We rub along quite well together, do we not? And if you dare to tell me you do not deserve such kindness then I shall box your ears!’
That made her laugh. ‘Then I shall say nothing of the kind. Instead I will tell you that I should like nothing better than to make the grand tour.’ Her laughter died. ‘I wish we were doing so now, rather than being in town.’
‘I am sure you do, but there are some in London who are determined to destroy your reputation and I will not allow that.’
He looked so fierce that she clasped her hands before her. ‘You will not challenge anyone to a duel?’
‘Not if it can be helped.’ It was not the assurance she was hoping for and she bit her lip. ‘Well?’ he prompted her. ‘You had best tell me what is on your mind.’
She looked down at her fingers, writhing together in her lap.
‘You are not renowned for your good temper. If you should become angry, you might forget yourself.’
Quinn stared at her, swallowing the sharp retort that would have demonstrated the truth of her words.
> ‘Are you afraid I shall embarrass you, madam?’
‘No, never that,’ she replied quickly. ‘But I know how you abhor town. You do not like society and you are forcing yourself to endure it for my sake.’ She fixed him with a look, her dark eyes full of concern. ‘If we are to quell the gossip, you will be obliged to squire me to all sorts of parties, most of them full of tiresome people vying for the notice of the ton.’ Her shoulders lifted in a faint shrug. ‘I have no illusions about the fashionable world, Quinn. Hostesses will be so grateful to have you in their house that they will fawn over you in the most embarrassing way. Sycophants will latch on to you because you are wealthy and you will hate it. How will you bear it without losing your temper with them all?’
I will bear it because you are there.
Where the devil had that thought come from? Quinn harrumphed and shifted uncomfortably in his corner.
‘My temper is not so ill controlled as you think, madam. Have I ever given you cause to fear me?’
Her face softened. ‘Oh, no, you have always been the kindest of men to me. And for so little reward, too.’
He saw the pain in her eyes. She was recalling how she recoiled from his touch. He wanted to reach out, to enfold her in his arms and tell her it did not matter, that everything would come right, in time. But she would flinch from his embrace and he could not bear that. He kept his hands by his sides and looked out of the window as the carriage slowed.
‘Ah. Somerset House. Let us go in.’
* * *
The first weeks in London passed in a whirl of activity for Serena. There was little time to rest. When she was not buying clothes or being fitted for another new gown, Quinn took her out and about with him. She enjoyed these excursions, not only to the Royal Academy and the theatre, but also to small, select gatherings of artists, musicians and authors. It was a world away from the glittering ballrooms of the ton. The talk was all of art or literature or even politics and Serena loved it.
‘I especially like the fact that my opinion is respected, even if they cannot agree with it,’ she told Quinn as he escorted her home late one night. She glanced up at him. ‘Do they know who you are?’
Beauty and the Brooding Lord Page 14
