Beauty and the Brooding Lord

by Sarah Mallory

  ‘And do you intend to stay long in England, ma’am?’ Serena marvelled that she could make such a calm, polite enquiry when she was still reeling from this unexpected meeting and her mind was seething with conjecture.

  ‘Oh, no.’ The Contessa chuckled. ‘Although it would annoy your brothers immensely, which would be amusing! We remain another se’ennight only. But that is long enough for you and I to become acquainted.’

  * * *

  Serena arrived back at Berkeley Square just as the watch was calling two of the clock. She and her mother had remained closeted together in Lady Yatesbury’s sitting room for over an hour and by the time they emerged Serena had learned a great deal about the Contessa Ragussina, but felt very little affection for the woman who was her mother. Papa she remembered as a bluff, jovial man. Her mother was a much more elusive memory, a golden creature whose painted cheek the young Serena had been allowed to kiss, after first being warned that she must be careful not to crush her gown. When Papa died and Mama had quit the country, the eight-year-old Serena had experienced no sense of loss. It had made little difference to her life, except that her half-brothers were anxious that no whiff of scandal should be attached to Miss Serena Russington.

  She had remained at the rout for another hour or so, and by that time she had formed a pretty accurate assessment of her mother. The Contessa Ragussina was a charming, spoiled beauty who cared for nothing but her own pleasure. Her delight in coming so unexpectedly upon her daughter appeared genuine, but Serena thought it was more for the sensation it would cause rather than any maternal affection. The Conte was an inveterate flirt, but he seemed genuinely fond of his wife and was rich enough to provide for her every wish. They were louche, loud and most definitely scandalous, and she had no idea what Quinn would say when he knew she had met them.

  Quinn. Serena crossed the hall and made her way slowly up the stairs. She very much wanted to go to him. Twenty-four hours ago she would not have hesitated to go to his room, to wake him up if necessary and tell him everything that had occurred at the rout. But the fact that Quinn might have spent the day—and most of the night—in the arms of his mistress gnawed away at her. Knowing it was jealousy and might well be unfounded did not help one jot. It just made the night spent in her own, lonely bed that much longer.

  * * *

  When Serena went into the breakfast room the following morning Quinn was already there, finishing off a plate of ham and eggs. She bade him a polite good morning and received nothing more than a considering stare in return. A servant served her with coffee and hot rolls, but once they were alone Quinn asked her if she had enjoyed herself last night.

  ‘Thank you, it was interesting.’

  He threw her a glance. ‘You did not come to my room.’

  ‘No.’ She concentrated on buttering her bread roll. ‘It was very late.’

  ‘I missed you.’

  The words were quiet, almost off hand, but they increased her inner turmoil. Did he really care about her, or did she merely feed some insatiable appetite? That thought produced a prickle of anger.

  She said with ill-concealed bitterness, ‘I thought you would be exhausted. After a day spent enjoying the pleasures of society.’

  ‘What the deuce do you mean by that?’

  ‘For one who professes to dislike town so much you are very reluctant to quit it.’

  Quinn frowned. He put down his knife and fork and pushed away his empty plate.

  ‘What is this about, Serena—have I offended you in some way?’

  Tell him, Serena. Ask him to explain the bills, the lease of another house. There should be no secrets between you.

  ‘Something has occurred, and I want to know what it is.’ He bent a searching look upon her. ‘Well, madam?’

  The butler’s cough interrupted them.

  ‘I beg your pardon, my lord. Lord and Lady Hambridge have called. They wish to see you immediately.’ Dunnock’s sombre tones were overlaid with a hint of anxiety. ‘Lord Hambridge says it is a matter of some urgency.’

  For a moment she thought Quinn might tell the butler to go to the devil. Instead he nodded and pushed his chair back.

  ‘Very well, we will come now.’

  ‘I have shown them into the drawing room, my lord.’

  ‘We will finish this later, Serena,’ muttered Quinn as they followed Dunnock through the hall.

  But she barely heard him. She was wondering about the revelations that awaited them in the drawing room.

  When Dunnock opened the door for them to enter, Quinn saw immediately that something was seriously wrong. Henry was pacing up and down the room, while his wife was perched on the edge of a sofa, pulling a lace handkerchief between her hands with quick, jerking movements. His first thought was for Serena. He guided her to a chair and gently pressed her to sit down before greeting the guests.

  ‘Good day to you, Hambridge, Lady Hambridge. When did you return from Worthing?’

  The butler had withdrawn by this time and Henry wasted no time on pleasantries.

  ‘Last night,’ he replied shortly. ‘And we were devastated by the news that awaited us. Poor Dorothea has been quite prostrate.’

  Serena tensed and his hand tightened warningly on her shoulder. ‘I am sorry to hear that. I take it this concerns us?’

  Hambridge stopped and fixed Quinn with a solemn gaze. ‘Serena’s mother is in London.’

  ‘I see.’

  ‘Such a dreadful shock,’ exclaimed Dorothea, tugging at the unfortunate scrap of lace between her hands. ‘She has been in England for a full month with that disreputable husband of hers! That foolish clerk of Hambridge’s should have sent the letter on to us, but no, he must leave it for our return. I vow I was almost carried off by a seizure when Henry read it to me. They have hired a house out of town, thankfully, and there is little chance of them being invited to the sort of gatherings you will attend, Serena, so all is not lost.’

  Henry nodded solemnly. ‘And if by some mischance you should meet, on no account must you acknowledge them, Serena.’

  ‘Indeed not,’ declared Dorothea. ‘I vow if I should happen to see that dreadful woman I shall not hesitate to give her the cut direct. That is, if I should recognise her.’ She gave an angry titter. ‘I have no doubt she is quite hideously raddled by now, with the debauched life she has been living.’

  ‘Oh, I do not think you will have any difficulty knowing her,’ remarked Serena. ‘I do not believe she is much changed. And the likeness between us is quite unmistakable.’ She added coolly, ‘I met the Conte and Contessa, you see. At Lady Yatesbury’s rout last night.’

  So that accounted for her strange mood this morning, thought Quinn. His surprise at the announcement was nothing compared to that of Lady Hambridge. She shrieked and fell back on the sofa, while Henry scrabbled in her reticule for her smelling salts to wave under her nose. Quinn and Serena watched in silence.

  ‘Thank God you don’t subject me to such histrionics,’ he muttered.

  ‘You have met the Contessa?’ Henry’s outraged stare moved from Serena to Quinn. ‘What the devil were you about, sir, to allow such a thing?’

  ‘I was not at hand to prevent it,’ Quinn retorted.

  ‘Do you mean to say Serena was there alone?’ cried Lady Hambridge, sitting up.

  Quinn ground his teeth. ‘I am not her keeper, madam.’

  Dorothea sucked in a scandalised breath. ‘You are her husband, my lord, and it is your duty to protect her reputation. What’s left of it!’

  Quinn saw Serena’s hand come up, as if to ward off a blow, and he bit back a scathing reply. Dunnock came in, bearing a sealed letter on a tray. With admirable aplomb he fixed his eyes on his master and ignored everyone else.

  ‘A note has arrived for you, my lord. The messenger insisted it should be delivered to you immediately and he awaits your answer.’r />
  Quinn took the letter and dismissed the butler. He glanced about him as he broke the seal and opened the letter. Serena was sitting pale but composed in her chair, while Hambridge fussed about his wife, who had relapsed on the sofa.

  ‘We must see how best we can resolve this situation,’ declared Hambridge, plying his wife’s fan as she lay back with her eyes closed. ‘A single chance encounter at Lady Yatesbury’s may not be so very bad, but we must ensure there are no further meetings. It would be best if you were to withdraw from society, Serena, until the Conte and Contessa have returned to the Continent. You must cancel all your engagements and Quinn shall take you back to Melham Court. Dorothea and I will make sure everyone knows the meeting was not of your making. I am confident that by next Season this will all be forgotten and you need think no more about that scandalous female.’

  Serena sat up a little straighter in her chair. ‘You forget, Henry, that scandalous female, as you call her, is my mother.’

  ‘And a most unnatural parent,’ declared Dorothea in scathing accents.

  ‘But Serena’s parent, nevertheless,’ put in Quinn, coming forward. ‘It is therefore up to my wife if she wishes to continue the acquaintance.’

  ‘Out of the question.’ Dorothea sat up. ‘Serena’s reputation is already damaged. To accept the connection with the Contessa, to be seen in her company, would put her beyond the pale.’

  ‘Calm yourself, my dear,’ Henry said as his wife snatched back her fan. ‘The Contessa may not wish for the connection. After all, she has shown no interest in Serena until now.’ He looked suddenly much happier. ‘I doubt if she truly wants to acknowledge the daughter she abandoned more than ten years ago.’

  ‘I hate to disappoint you,’ drawled Quinn, glancing at the paper in his hand, ‘but the Contessa wishes very much to see her daughter. She has invited us to dine with her at Kilborn House this evening.’ There was a stunned silence. Quinn continued, ‘Dinner, followed by a little dancing.’

  ‘Out of the question!’ The Hambridges both spoke at once.

  ‘I will not allow it!’

  ‘It is not a question of what you will allow, Hambridge,’ barked Quinn. ‘My wife is quite capable of deciding for herself.’

  Henry’s face flushed. ‘Think, man. This is not only her reputation at stake, but yours, too, as her husband!’

  ‘Reputation be damned,’ Quinn snapped. ‘I have never cared for society’s good opinion and I am not about to start now.’ He turned to Serena. ‘Well, my dear, shall we accept the Contessa’s invitation?’

  * * *

  Serena saw only understanding in Quinn’s hazel eyes and it steadied her. She ignored Dorothea’s gasp of outrage and her brother’s angry mutterings and spoke directly to him.

  ‘You would come with me?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Then I confess I should like to go.’ She wanted to tell him her first impressions of the Contessa, but she was loath to do so in front of Henry and Dorothea. It smacked of disloyalty to the woman who had borne her.

  ‘Then I shall give the messenger our answer now.’

  Dorothea barely waited for Quinn to leave the room before she gave a loud huff of disapproval.

  ‘You have shocked and disappointed me, Serena. I thought we had taught you better than this. If you persist in your wayward behaviour, then I wash my hands of you!’

  ‘Now, now, my dear, ’pon reflection I think ’tis natural Serena wishes to know a little about her mother and a private dinner is perhaps the best thing for it.’

  ‘With dancing! How can it be private? The entire Holland House set might be present!’ Dorothea’s eyes went back to Serena. ‘Never tell me Quinn mixes in that company!’

  ‘I have no idea.’ Serena looked towards Quinn, who had just come back into the room. ‘Do you visit Holland House?’

  ‘I have dined there, in the past. The conversation is always stimulating. But I do not go there now.’

  ‘Well, that is a small mercy, I suppose,’ Dorothea conceded. ‘The scandal surrounding Lizzie Webster has never been forgotten.’

  ‘Surely it is to his credit that Lord Holland married her,’ reasoned Serena.

  ‘That merely shows he is as bad as she is,’ flashed Dorothea.

  ‘Poppycock,’ said Quinn. ‘If I do not go to Holland House it has nothing to do with the fact that Lady Holland is a divorcee, but because the Hollands are such avid supporters of Bonaparte.’

  ‘But you are sure to meet them at Kilborn House and heaven knows what other scandalous company the Ragussinas may keep.’

  ‘Then we shall soon find out,’ replied Quinn, with what Serena thought was admirable calm.

  Dorothea rose in a crackle of silks. ‘I see there is no arguing with either of you. Come, Henry, we shall take our leave.’

  ‘You must see our position, Serena,’ said Henry, escorting his wife to the door. ‘We cannot grant you more than a bow in passing, if we see you out and about in your mother’s company. And what Russ will say when he hears of it...’

  Dorothea gave a snort of derision. ‘Knowing your brother, he will merely laugh!’

  Serena caught the glimmer of amusement in Quinn’s eyes and she said, ‘Thank you, Dorothea, that gives me some comfort.’

  ‘Well it was not what I intended! Come, Henry, take me home, if you please.’

  ‘Oh, dear.’ Serena sighed when the door closed behind them. ‘I fear they are seriously displeased with me. I only hope they do not cut all acquaintance with us.’

  ‘They will come about,’ said Quinn. He grinned. ‘You are a very rich woman now, Lady Quinn. That counts for a great deal with your brother and his wife.’

  ‘But not if I continue to cause a scandal.’

  ‘You won’t.’ He pulled her into his arms. ‘We shall be the very model of marital harmony.’

  Serena’s heart skittered at the warm glow in his eyes, but she could not forget the bills stuffed into the drawer in the library. How could she lose herself in his kiss if she was sharing him with some unknown mistress? With a little laugh she twisted out of his arms.

  ‘Heavens, Quinn, how droll that sounds,’ she said lightly. ‘But you must excuse me, if you please. This unexpected invitation to dine with the Contessa has thrown me into complete confusion. I must go and find Polly to help me decide what to wear.’

  * * *

  She made her escape and managed to avoid seeing Quinn again until they set off in the carriage for Kilborn House. When they arrived, she handed her cloak to the hovering footman and Quinn glanced at her coral gown.

  ‘Beautiful,’ he murmured. ‘But why are you not wearing the parure?’

  She put a hand to the diamonds at her neck. She had no heart to wear the coral set—it reminded her of the expensive gifts he had bestowed elsewhere.

  ‘I thought these were more fitting,’ she replied at last, adding with a touch of bitterness, ‘after all, diamonds are what every woman loves most.’

  She moved quickly away towards the lackey waiting to show them into the drawing room, leaving Quinn to follow her.

  The Contessa greeted them regally before making them known to their guests. There were some half-a-dozen people in the room and Serena recognised only two of them: Lord Fyfield and Mrs Medway, a dashing widow with a reputation for stealing husbands. They were greeted with an enthusiasm that bordered on the obsequious, which Serena disliked as much as Quinn. Neither did she like the Conte’s familiar attitude towards herself, but she hid her unease beneath a cheerful smile, accepted the glass of wine pressed into her hand and did her best to join in with the conversation, wondering how soon after dinner they might take their leave.

  * * *

  Quinn’s countenance was impassive as he watched his fellow diners. This was just such an evening as he detested, inconsequential small talk and malicious gossip. T
he flight from England of Lord Byron and Brummell earlier in the year had been followed by a storm of speculation and even now the Contessa’s guests were eager to pick over the bones of the scandals. Quinn took no part, neither did he respond to the advances of the widow on his right. Serena, he noted, was turning away the flirtatious remarks of the Conte and Lord Fyfield with a smile, but her cheeks were more flushed than usual. He wondered how much wine she had drunk.

  A question from his hostess claimed his attention, but he answered it briefly and went back to watching Serena. She appeared to be avoiding his eye and unease flickered. Was he mistaken in thinking her liveliness was forced? Was she indeed enjoying the dissolute company? An icy hand clutched at his guts. Perhaps Forsbrook was right. How could he hope to hold the interest of such a vibrant, lively creature as Serena? She had wanted a rake for a husband, not a serious, unsociable fellow who preferred books to parties.

  * * *

  Throughout dinner, Serena felt Quinn’s eyes upon her. He was seated between the Contessa and Mrs Medway but he made little effort to engage them in conversation. He was living up to his reputation, then, as the rudest man in London. She did not look directly at him, afraid to read disapproval in his face. The wine had made her a little light-headed and she had been flirting with the gentlemen sitting near her. Well, she thought angrily, if Quinn was jealous she was glad. It could be nothing to the pain she was suffering.

  With each glass of wine, the idea that Quinn had a mistress became more fixed in her mind. It must be so. There could be no other explanation. He probably considered it a kindness to keep the fact from her. How strange, she thought, that she could laugh and talk as if she had not a care in the world, when inside her heart was breaking.

  The Contessa rose to lead the ladies from the dining room and as Serena passed Quinn he reached back and caught her hand.

  ‘Are you all right?’

  No. I want to rip and tear and scream. I want to throw myself into your arms and cry my heart out, but I will not do that because I am sure those arms have been wrapped about someone else.

  ‘Oh, Lord, yes. I am enjoying myself vastly.’