Quinn tightened his grip on the cane. First he had to confront Edmund Lisle and discover what he could about the pendant. After that, he would see about mending Venetia’s relationship with her parents and her sister.
—
Lisle resided in a newer part of town, near where Quinn’s cousin Jack lived, in an elegant, storied terrace house. When Quinn demanded entrance, the sleepy manservant who answered the front door looked properly intimidated and hastily agreed to rouse his master from his bed.
Several minutes later, the master himself came stalking down the staircase. Edmund Lisle was a man of medium build, a trifle portly, with thinning brown hair—and, at the moment, bloodshot eyes, likely the result of a late night gambling. He also boasted handsome features and a vast fortune, which no doubt appealed to Julia.
Lisle was barely civil enough to invite Quinn into a nearby parlor, and in the same gruff tone, ask him to be seated. Before Quinn could state his business as requested, Lisle went on the attack.
“I cannot imagine what has brought you here, but if you are attempting to lure Lady Dalton back, you will fail.” His animosity was obvious, as was his defensiveness, and both likely stemmed from jealousy, Quinn knew.
“I assure you I have no such aim.”
“Then why the devil are you here?”
Lisle was clearly puzzled by the visit rather than wary and nervous, which was a point in his favor, Quinn calculated. A guilty man would not have seemed so surprised.
“I came to inquire about your motives.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Did you try to have me killed a fortnight ago?”
Lisle first stared, then gave a bark of laughter. “Good God, no. Why would you think so?”
“There have been three attempts on my life recently, beginning the evening we played cards at Tavistock’s. Each time assailants tried to end my existence.”
“And you think it was I? How preposterous.”
If he was acting, Quinn couldn’t tell. Lisle’s astonishment seemed genuine. Certainly he was exhibiting no sign that he feared retribution for attempted murder.
“Why in blazes would I want to kill you?” Lisle asked in true bafflement. “Granted, I may sincerely dislike you, but my antipathy is not so severe that I wish you dead. Besides, I wouldn’t dare challenge you. You are known to be a crack shot and an even better swordsman.”
“You could have hired accomplices,” Quinn pointed out.
“To what purpose? I am not idiotic enough to risk your wrath. I value my skin too highly.”
If Lisle was lying, he was making an expert job of it, but more likely he was innocent of the charges.
Quinn tried another tact. “Yet you blame me for Lady Dalton’s scene in Hyde Park last year.”
Lisle nodded. “I was livid enough to carve out your spleen, I admit. I was sorely jealous. But Julia and I came to an understanding. She had a change of heart, and I forgave her for her hysterics in the park.” He pursed his lips thoughtfully. “Surely I am not the only enemy you have made. There must be others who have reason to want vengeance. A cuckolded husband, perhaps?”
Quinn let the insult slide, not bothering to explain he had never cuckolded anyone. Instead, he decided to move on to the next line of questioning. “Then you won’t mind telling me how you came by the ruby and diamond pendant you gave her.”
Lisle looked even more puzzled, then narrowed his eyes. “Is this some sort of trick? Or trap?”
“Not at all. How did you acquire the necklace?”
Lisle’s gaze remained suspicious. “Why the devil do you care?”
“I believe it once belonged to my mother’s family. When I saw Lady Dalton wearing it, I recognized the distinctive design as part of a collection, commissioned by the Duc de Chagny in France, before the Revolution.”
“Did Julia know the design was your family’s?” Lisle stopped short. “Of course she did. That is why she coveted it. The moment she saw it, she wanted it. Now I know why.”
Lisle did not look happy with his calculation, and his mind was obviously still whirring. “Was that why you challenged me to a game at Tavistock’s?”
Clearly Lisle was no slow top, and Quinn decided honesty was his best course. “Yes. I hoped to win it from you.”
“I am glad you decided to fold that night. I regularly win, but you have the devil’s own luck.”
He’d ended the game when he’d spied Venetia, Quinn remembered. “Again, would you mind telling me how you came by it?”
Suddenly Lisle’s expression softened as understanding dawned. “Do you mean to tell me there is something of mine that you want?” A slow smile stretched across his mouth. “I never would have expected to be in this position in a hundred years.”
Lisle laughed with genuine amusement, and oddly Quinn liked him the more for it. In fact, he could see what Julia saw in him. Lisle was affable and generous and indeed honorable, with an ironic sense of humor that Quinn would have appreciated under other circumstances.
“I am willing to pay a handsome price for it. It has great sentimental value, since it was my mother’s.”
“The pendant is not mine to sell. I gave it to Julia.”
“I know. But I would like your consent to buy it from her.”
When Lisle hesitated, Quinn added, “Just think of it. I will be in your debt.”
“Yes, you will be in my debt. I think I like the sound of that.”
Lisle was enjoying having the upper hand for once, but then his mouth curled. “I realize you are throwing me a bone, Traherne.”
“Hardly,” Quinn answered at once. “You won Julia fairly.”
After all the humiliation Julia had caused him, Lisle deserved a sop to his pride. Moreover, there was no point in wounding his dignity further, and there were benefits to making him an ally.
“I suppose I could be persuaded to tell you how I came by the pendant,” Lisle said a trifle tauntingly. “Oh, what the devil…” Evidently he decided to relent. “I won it honorably, at Faro.”
“From whom?”
“A chap named Bellamy. George Bellamy.”
Quinn tried to place the name. “I am not acquainted with him. What can you tell me about him?”
“Not much. I am not familiar with him, either. And I haven’t a clue how it came to be in his possession. I play cards for the sport, but gaming is his profession, and I suspect his major source of income.”
“How do I find Bellamy?”
“I believe he lodges in Belgrave, although I am not certain. I do know he frequents Brooks’s Club. You might start there in making inquiries.”
“I will, thank you. As I said, I am in your debt.”
Lisle grinned again, then sobered. “I give you fair warning, Traherne. Julia is mine and I intend to keep her.”
“I promise I have no intention of challenging you for her affections. I agree wholeheartedly. She is yours.”
“As long as you and she both know it,” Lisle muttered. Then he paused. “It is too early for wine, but would you care for a pint of ale to cement our new understanding?”
Quinn smiled for the first time. “I would very much like that.”
—
Vast relief filled Venetia when Quinn returned home seemingly unscathed. Watching his arrival from the parlor window, she waited anxiously until he joined her and she could confirm for herself that he had suffered no physical harm.
However, she wasn’t certain what to feel about his conclusion that Lisle was not the perpetrator.
“Far from being angry and bitter,” Quinn said as he settled beside her on the sofa, “Lisle was amused by my suspicions. And he was quite happy to learn I had no designs on his mistress, Lady Dalton.”
That revelation made Venetia extremely happy also. She listened earnestly as Quinn detailed the steps he had taken to find the gamester George Bellamy.
“Bellamy has lodgings on Clarges Street. When I called there, his landlord said he had left for the coun
tryside nearly a month ago on a repairing lease. Apparently he was short of funds due to his gaming losses. But he recently paid his rent in full for the next quarter and is expected back in town shortly. I promised the landlord a large sum to alert me the moment Bellamy sets foot in London again,” Quinn added with a determined glint in his eye. “And I’ve tasked Hawk with investigating him in addition to Huffington. It’s imperative that we learn more about his background, and quickly.”
“It is almost as if you are enjoying the intrigue,” Venetia observed, noting Quinn’s expression.
He was quick to deny any relish. “I might enjoy solving the mystery if the consequences weren’t so serious. Count me angry and frustrated, though, not to mention troubled. As long as the assassin is at large, my family is at grave risk.” His gaze came to rest intently on Venetia. “Protecting you and my sister and the rest of my clan is my most important goal just now.”
Venetia was grateful that he wanted to protect her. Other than Cleo, no one had cared about her welfare in two long years, not even her parents, who by rights should still have felt some sort of sheltering instincts.
The thought made her throat tighten. What a stark contrast from Quinn, she reflected, recalling how he had sprawled over her, shielding her from a bullet with his own body.
Indeed, he had been concerned for her from the first, even before she returned from France. His ostensible advances toward Ophelia had been altruistic—his attempt to repair some of the damage his friend Ackland had wrought on Venetia and her family with his dissolution. Venetia had certainly misunderstood Quinn’s motives….
“Meanwhile we can turn our attention to your family,” Quinn was saying. “It is time to mend the rift.”
“I’m not sure that is possible,” she said uncertainly. “My parents may not even speak to me.”
“They will if they are at all wise. I shall write them immediately, informing of our intent to call this afternoon.”
When she looked skeptical, Quinn smiled without humor. “They won’t dare refuse me admittance.”
“Probably not. I, on the other hand…They despise me, not only for my rebellion two years ago but now, I’m sure, for stealing you from Ophelia.”
“You didn’t steal me.”
“Even so, I can’t help but feel guilty for spoiling her chances to marry well.”
“You are accepting too much blame. Don’t fret, darling. I am responsible for our marriage. And I will deal with your parents.”
Venetia bit her lower lip. “Truthfully, I am not as worried about my parents as I am about Ophelia. No doubt I hurt her. I very much want to meet with her and explain what happened…try and make peace with her, if that is at all possible.”
Quinn’s reply was a faint scoffing sound. “You care more about your sister than you do about yourself.”
“Perhaps. In any case, I need to make amends for my past actions.”
“You have more than made amends already. You wed me to spare her from ruin. You could even say you sacrificed yourself. Your family should all be grateful.”
“They won’t see it that way.”
“You don’t deserve their condemnation,” Quinn returned forcefully.
Venetia had to agree. It still shocked her a little that her parents were so callous and unfeeling as to cast her out for refusing to marry Ackland.
“Allow me to deal with your family,” Quinn repeated. “If they continue causing you distress, they will soon regret it.”
She sent him a grateful smile. “I don’t want them to suffer. I just don’t want to be a pariah to them any longer. And it would be beyond my fondest hopes if we could return to somewhat amiable terms,” Venetia said wistfully.
“Come here, love,” he commanded. Reaching for her, he drew her onto his lap and lowered his face to hers. After giving her a sweet, lingering kiss that left her short of breath, he continued to nibble at her lips, evidently set on teasing her out of her low mood. “Far from being censured, you should be awarded a halo. You saved your sister from a fate worse than death—marriage to me.”
She summoned a twisted smile. “I was mistaken on that score. Marriage to you is not worse than death.”
Quinn chuckled while Venetia brought them back to the conversation. “Ophelia was likely stricken to lose you.”
“She never had me.”
“But she showed a decided partiality for you. Understandably, she was dazzled by your seductive charm. And my parents expected her to wed you.”
“Their expectations were unfounded.”
“Were they?” Venetia queried. “From the moment Ophelia made her debut, you were very particular in your attentions to her. According to the gossip rags, you stood up with her at three balls and took her in to supper at least once.”
He feigned horror. “A shocking crime.”
“Everyone thought you were on the verge of making her an offer. I’m sure my parents hoped to see Ophelia settled at Tallis Court before the year was out.”
“They will have to be satisfied to see you established there.”
Venetia didn’t argue that she was unlikely to take up residence at the Traherne country seat, given their specific marital arrangements.
“Your parents won’t risk being ostracized,” Quinn added. “If they hope to show their faces in London, they will not only recognize you again but embrace your return to the fold.”
It was a valid threat, Venetia knew. The Earl of Traherne and his illustrious cousins in the House of Beaufort could rule London society if they wished.
“My reinstatement is not my biggest concern,” Venetia asserted. “I don’t want them to force Ophelia to marry for wealth and status. She should be able to marry for love. That was chiefly why I returned to England and sought you out.”
“Why you hunted me down, you mean.”
“I thought it was crucial to prevent your courtship—a courtship that never really existed.” Venetia heard herself sigh. “Mama is set on Ophelia marrying a title, just as she was for me, and she likely won’t be put off. I believe the loss of Ackland’s title disturbed her the most.”
“But now you have an even higher-ranking title,” Quinn pointed out. “I’ve told you before, there are major benefits to being my countess. Your new position wields a great deal of power.”
“In what respects?”
“You can now help Ophelia find a suitable match, for one thing. I can safely promise that Skye and Kate will be delighted to matchmake for your sister once the danger is over.” Quinn abruptly shook his head. “God help me, I can’t believe I am actually considering encouraging their romantic notions.”
“Would they really help Ophelia?” Venetia asked hopefully.
“Of course. You have a new family now. Unlike your relatives, we Wildes don’t turn our backs on our loved ones.”
Somehow that quiet reassurance brought sudden tears to Venetia’s eyes. She ducked her head to hide her response, not wanting to appear absurdly emotional.
Fortunately Quinn didn’t seem to notice.
“That is one unique advantage to my family,” he was saying. “We might commit more than our share of scandals, but we stick together through thick and thin. And you are a Wilde now, whether you like it or not. Now, pray excuse me while I go compose a note to your parents.”
With one final, fleeting kiss, he shifted Venetia off his lap, extricating himself from their embrace, and stood.
Venetia watched him go with a chaotic mix of emotions whirling inside her.
You are a Wilde now. Strange how comforting those words sounded.
She wanted to believe them, too. Even if her marriage to Quinn was not on solid or permanent footing. Even if in the near future she would live her own life separate and apart from his.
Most of all, it was wonderful to think she was no longer alone. That she needn’t be beset by such painful loneliness any longer.
Even if she was only—foolishly—indulging in wishful thinking.
Quinn�
��s message received a swift reply confirming a time for their call. Thus, he and Venetia arrived at her parents’ home on Henrietta Place some three hours later.
The knowledge that she wasn’t alone fortified Venetia as she entered the parlor where Tobias and Helen Stratham awaited. They might not want to acknowledge her existence, but she would insist on it for Ophelia’s sake.
Their fawning welcome for the Earl of Traherne proved a sharp contrast to their stiffness with their prodigal daughter.
“Venetia,” her father said, nodding his head once in terse greeting.
“It is good to see you again, Papa…Mama.”
Neither responded, and their exchange of glances indicated how awkward this meeting was for them.
Venetia felt a deep sadness as she gazed upon her parents for the first time in two years, taking in her father’s graying hair, the new lines on her mother’s face, their lips pursed in displeasure. Evidently they still could not pardon her for the unforgivable crime of bringing scandal to their good name, and worse, refusing to recant her public renunciation of Viscount Ackland and marry him.
Rather than converse with Venetia further, Mr. Stratham addressed the earl again. “I confess we were surprised by your sudden marriage, Lord Traherne.”
“Yes, indeed, my lord,” Mrs. Stratham added. “We heard there was a shooting.”
“The shooting by an unknown perpetrator was incidental to our marriage,” Quinn stated brusquely. “I have long admired your elder daughter and was greatly honored when she accepted my hand.”
Brushing off any subsequent quizzing, he asserted that the visit was not made to effect a reconciliation but to discuss how to present a united front with the ton, and that he expected the Strathams to support his own family’s efforts to bring Lady Traherne back into favor. Venetia had never seen Quinn so cold, and his dictatorial manner clearly intimidated her parents.
He concluded with an indictment of their woeful treatment of her. “Would that you had shown the slightest inclination to shield her from her vicious detractors. For that alone Venetia deserves your abject apologies.”
The Art of Taming a Rake (Legendary Lovers #4) Page 19
