Beguiled by Her Betrayer

by Louise Allen

  * * *

  ‘More toast?’ Quin was watching her with amusement and a tenderness that made Cleo’s heart stutter. He feels even more guilty now we have made love.

  ‘You have fed me until I am fit for nothing but a day in bed to sleep it off,’ she protested, pretending light-heartedness as she gazed at the wreckage of Godley’s idea of an intimate breakfast à deux.

  ‘There are things to be done, so I’m afraid that is out of the question. We had best take the carriage out this morning,’ he added and got up from the table, his expression suddenly back to what she thought of as the diplomatic mask.

  ‘Yes, of course.’ Lawyers and banks, she supposed. ‘I will get ready and find a veil.’

  In the gloom of the closed carriage Quin was silent. His profile seemed somehow distant and austere as though he was preparing for some unpleasant task. Cleo gave herself a little shake for Gothic imaginings.

  The carriage came to a halt, the groom opened the door and let down the step and Quin got out, then turned to hold out his hand to her.

  Cleo stepped down, glanced around, then froze. The house in front of her with its ornate railings and wide front door was very familiar. She looked wildly from side to side, there was no mistake. This was Grosvenor Square and her grandfather’s house.

  ‘No!’ She tugged at Quin’s hand and he released his grip. ‘No. I trusted you. I believed you.’ Oh, such a fool, such a fool for love. She began to back away. He could run her down in a moment, she knew that, but she was not going to go without a struggle.

  ‘Cleo, think. You trusted me yesterday, last night. Trust me now.’ Quin made no move to seize her. ‘Listen to your feelings, not your fears.’

  Cleo edged a little further along the pavement. Mama used to say, If something seems too good to be true, it probably is. She should listen to her common sense—of course Quin would not sacrifice his brilliant career for her, discard a beautiful, sophisticated bride for her.

  ‘My feelings? What do you know about feelings other than how to manipulate them? You gave me your word—how have you managed to twist that this time?’

  ‘Last night I meant what I said, that I would find you a house and give you the means to start a new life.’

  ‘And now?’

  ‘I changed my mind. Come, we cannot discuss this here.’ He took her arm and pulled her towards the garden, took a key from his pocket to open the gate and guided her inside.

  ‘Changed your mind?’ She could hardly speak for the bitterness of the pain. ‘After last night? After this morning?’

  ‘I realised this morning just why I have been so damnable confused and unhappy about all of this,’ Quin said.

  ‘You have been confused and unhappy? Well, that at least we share!’

  ‘I can only ask you to forgive me for not telling you the truth in Egypt, on the voyage. I can only tell you that I never wanted anything but your welfare and hope that you believe me. I did what I thought was right and all those rights made one dreadful wrong, Cleo. But I know this: to let you go off alone to spend the rest of your life in hiding, living a lie—that would be the worst wrong of all.’

  ‘And so you bring me back to my cage.’

  ‘I bring you back and hope that you can trust me one last time. Hope that what I thought I saw in your eyes, and felt in your lovemaking, is not some illusion.’ Quin took a step and caught her hands in his. ‘Come with me now. Forgive me. I swear, if you do not want the solution that I will offer, then I will take you out of there, whatever it takes.’

  ‘No.’ She began to back towards the gate and he did nothing to stop her. She could not break eye contact with him as he stood there silent, watching her leave.

  ‘Let George know how to contact you. He will make arrangements with whatever solicitor you choose. I will not be able to find you,’ Quin said. His voice was steady, the look in his eyes was bleak.

  That look stopped her in her tracks. I love him and up to now I have given him nothing that was not easy to give, nothing that I did not want, in my heart, for him to have. I can give him this, my trust, and if I am wrong... To the devil with common sense, she thought. Love him and take the consequences.

  Cleo walked back and put her hand on Quin’s arm. ‘I will go with you.’

  He smiled then, that elusive quirk of the lips that almost made a dent in his cheek, but not quite. ‘Let us get this done.’

  The butler admitted them. ‘Welcome home, Miss Woodward. His Grace is in the library, I will announce you.’ He sounded relieved to see her, presumably her grandfather had been making life hell for all and sundry.

  ‘Miss Woodward, Lord Quintus Deverall, Your Grace.’

  It was too quick, she had not had the chance to collect herself, Cleo realised. She made herself unclench her fingers from Quin’s arm. If he was about to hand her over like a stray dog, then she was not going to put up an undignified fight.

  ‘You found her!’ The duke came round the desk and shook Quin’s hand. ‘I knew I could rely on you, Deverall.’ He frowned at Cleo. ‘Where the blazes have you been, you wretched girl? You have completely compromised yourself: it is going to take a great deal of effort to salvage this mess.’

  ‘Kindly do not speak to Miss Woodward in that tone, Your Grace,’ Quin said. ‘Miss Woodward has been in a respectable lodging house chaperoned by her maid. And then she has been with me.’

  ‘Excellent.’ The duke stalked back to his chair, then something in Quin’s tone seemed to penetrate. ‘With you?’

  ‘Yes, Your Grace. With me. Cleo is indeed compromised and beyond your powers to cover up.’

  All her grandfather’s icy poise seemed to desert him. His face darkened and he thumped his fist on to the desk. ‘You damned rake!’

  ‘You will not swear in front of Miss Woodward, Your Grace,’ Quin said calmly. He turned to her, went down on one knee and said simply, ‘Marry me, Cleo.’

  The world tilted and then righted itself. Cleo found she could speak. ‘Why? Because you have compromised me?’

  ‘Because I love you. I must admit to being exceedingly obtuse. I only realised this morning, in bed.’

  Over his head she saw the duke’s face go red. ‘You what?’

  ‘Grandfather. I need to speak to Quin alone.’ Could it be true? Could he really mean it?

  ‘And I need to take a shotgun to him!’

  Quin stood up. ‘Excuse me, Your Grace. Cleo?’

  ‘This way.’ She led him out of the study and into the deserted dining room and locked the door behind them. ‘Quin, if this is belated guilt for lying with me...’

  ‘No, it is not belated guilt for anything, it is simply the first true thing I can be certain of in a very long time. I love you, Cleo. You have a great deal to forgive me for, I know that. The thing that I find hardest to forgive is that it took me so long to realise what I felt for you was not simply desire or liking.’

  ‘It’s impossible.’ Cleo realised she was wringing her hands and forced herself to stop.

  ‘What exactly is impossible about it?’ Quin enquired. ‘I have a courtesy title, a small estate, a healthy income and all my parts are in full working order, as you have seen for yourself. I do not keep mistresses, take snuff, gamble to excess, smoke and I am not going bald. And all my teeth are my own.’

  He must have hoped to lighten the atmosphere, but instead his words moved Cleo from bewilderment to something near tears. ‘It would ruin you, Quin. You heard Grandfather just now. He would descend on the Foreign Office and denounce you. You would have made an enemy of an incredibly powerful man, upset the government and you will never get preferment, much less end up an ambassador.

  ‘And Lady Caroline,’ she went on, desperate to lay it all out so he would stop this gallant nonsense and save himself. ‘She is the perfect wife for you. What about her?’

  ‘I have said nothing to her, nor to her father, that would lead them to expect a declaration. I am not in any way committed.’ He smiled at her. ‘Cleo, it is y
ou I love, not her.’

  ‘But I have so much to learn of society. I have no accomplishments, no experience.’

  ‘You have languages and strong nerves,’ Quin countered. ‘You are not disconcerted by strange places and you have excellent health. You learn fast. Cleo, my love, the worst that can happen is the end of my diplomatic career. If that happens, then I have an estate and investments to fall back on. We won’t starve, Cleo.’

  ‘That is not what I am worried about,’ she said vaguely. ‘I know more recipes for rice and scrawny chicken than you can imagine, I can keep house on a pittance.’ She realised what she was saying. ‘How can I risk being the death of the one thing you really want in life and ruining your opportunity to make the break from your father that is so important?’

  ‘I find those do not matter so desperately, not any more,’ he said. ‘I know who I am now, I know what I can achieve. I only need you to complete me.

  ‘I thought my honour defined me, that somehow I had to be a better man than my father believed me and a more honourable one than my true father had been. Now I know that all that matters is listening to my heart and my conscience. I love you, Cleo. Can you forgive me?’

  It was true, Cleo knew it in her bones, her blood, her heart. He loved her and perhaps he had for a long time. He had wanted, always, to do the right thing and now he was hurting and she could not bear that.

  ‘How can I not?’ she asked him and opened her arms. ‘I love you and I have for so long, Quin.’

  He walked into her embrace and closed his arms to hold her against his chest. ‘I had hoped, last night. I feared I was deluding myself. Will you marry me, Cleo?’

  ‘I will.’ It was a promise and a vow and there was nothing else to say as Quin’s kiss took her breath away.

  * * *

  ‘Enough of this sentimental twaddle,’ the duke snapped half an hour later. ‘I’ll see you ruined, Deverall.’

  ‘No, you will not, not unless you wish to make life more difficult for your granddaughter.’ Quin dragged his gaze away from her face with an effort. ‘You can ruin my career, but we’ll not starve and society loves a romantic scandal—it is your dignity that will suffer if you try to hinder us.’

  ‘You—the mongrel in the Deverall kennel daring to aspire to the granddaughter of St Osyth? Pah.’ The duke flung himself down into his chair.

  Quin smiled. ‘I am a perfectly acceptable match for the daughter of an eccentric baronet and a lady who eloped and was cast off by her family.’

  ‘Why, damn it?’ the duke demanded.

  ‘Because I love her,’ Quin said simply.

  ‘And I love him.’ Cleo’s fingers closed tight on his hand.

  ‘Stop it!’ St Osyth thundered. ‘I can’t bear it. The pair of you are a sentimental disgrace, like some drivelling pair of yokels. Cleo, you do not know about this man’s parentage.’

  ‘Yes, I do, he told me. Mine isn’t much to brag about either. Besides, I would rather marry a man whose worth depends on his own intelligence, hard work and honour than some crony of yours.’ She tucked her hand under Quin’s elbow.

  There was a long, simmering silence before the duke reached for the bell pull. ‘I should send for my grooms and a horsewhip,’ he said.

  Quin made himself relax his fists. ‘You are welcome to try, although I dislike the idea of hurting men who are only obeying orders.’

  ‘Hah!’

  Cranton entered. ‘Your Grace?’

  ‘A bottle of champagne. The best. And three glasses.’ He waited until the door had closed behind the butler. ‘I hope I know when to stop fighting for a lost cause. I wish you well of my granddaughter, Deverall. She’ll lead you a merry dance.’

  ‘You will not influence the Foreign Ministry against Quin?’ Cleo asked.

  ‘Stop it, Cleo,’ Quin said. ‘I will not beg for your grandfather’s forbearance. I do not want his help.’

  ‘Well, I want my money,’ Cleo countered. ‘The money Father let me have.’

  ‘You’ll have your mother’s dowry,’ snapped the duke. ‘And don’t you get on your high horse about that, Deverall.’

  ‘I wouldn’t dream of it, Your Grace. It is Cleo’s by rights.’

  ‘You’ll get married in St George’s in three months’ time.’

  ‘One month and Cleo will decide where.’

  He saw Cleo bite her lip to hide the smile. ‘St George’s. It will be better for Quin’s career if we have a big London wedding. And two weeks.’

  ‘That will seem very rushed, tongues will wag.’

  ‘Not if you put it about that I asked for Cleo’s hand the day I brought her to you,’ Quin said. ‘You naturally wished her to acquire some town bronze before the engagement was announced. Just smile when you say it, Your Grace. Who would dare doubt you?’

  ‘No one, if they know what is good for them. Well, Cleo. Your room is as you left it. I want to speak to Deverall about settlements.’

  ‘I have to stay here?’

  ‘Of course you do, Cleo.’ Quin bent and kissed her. ‘Trust him, my darling,’ he whispered in her ear. ‘You learned to trust me, he’ll be easy in comparison.’

  * * *

  ‘There, Lady Quintus Deverall, is your new home.’ Quin swung Cleo down from the chaise and pointed to a house nestling below the wooded shoulder of the hill. Golden stone glowed in the afternoon light and sweeping wings framed the central block.

  ‘It manages to be grand and homely at the same time. I love it.’ It was perfect. Home, with Quin.

  ‘I haven’t done much to it, I’ve been away too much, but you can do what you like to make it yours.’ Quin leaned on the wheel and put his arm around her shoulders, pulling her close.

  ‘Ours,’ Cleo said and rested her head against his shoulder. ‘Will I be here very much alone? May I not travel with you?’

  ‘Not when I am extracting beautiful women from foreign lands and kissing them senseless in the hope they’ll admit to being spies,’ Quin said. ‘Otherwise, yes, of course.’

  ‘You never kissed me senseless,’ Cleo complained.

  ‘Then I have not been trying hard enough.’ Quin held the door for her to climb back into the chaise and told the postilions to drive on. ‘Of course, we may decide to stay put when the children arrive.’

  ‘We’re back to the kissing then,’ Cleo said. She had a niggling suspicion that decorating the nursery might be a priority, but it was too soon to be certain and they had only made love once. But still, she had hopes.

  ‘I hope so,’ Quin said and took her in his arms and proceeded to kiss her until the world was spinning. When the carriage came to a halt in front of the house she could only blink at it.

  ‘I told the staff to make themselves scarce for two days,’ Quin said as they reached the foot of the steps up to the front door. ‘Food will appear, hot water will materialise, beds will be made, all apparently by ghosts.’ He swept her up into his arms and climbed the steps. ‘Even front doors will open by magic.’ As he spoke the heavy panels swung open with a loud creak. Cleo thought she heard the quick scuff of footsteps and a muffled laugh, but there was no one in sight as they entered a wide hall with a staircase winding upwards like the coils of a nautilus shell.

  ‘Are you hungry?’ Quin asked.

  ‘Only for you.’

  ‘In that case, as you have been disappointed in my kissing—’

  ‘I never said that!’

  ‘—I intend to render you senseless, as requested.’ Quin strode across the hall and up the stairs without, apparently, drawing breath. It was, Cleo decided, the most dashingly romantic sensation.

  He shouldered open a door on the first landing. ‘Your bedchamber, my lady. And rather more to the point, your bed.’

  How he managed to undress her while kissing her, Cleo could never afterwards recall. And his own clothes seemed to melt away, although afterwards she found his shirt was ripped from neck to hem.

  Her brain was most satisfactorily addled by the time he
released her lips, only to start on her neck, then her shoulder and then her breasts. That was bliss, better than bliss. Quin could just stay there, kissing and nibbling and licking and gently biting and she would spin into one climax after another, she was certain.

  But he abandoned her breast just when she was clutching the sheets and arching up into his mouth. He trailed kisses down her ribs, swirled his tongue into her naval, found an exquisitely sensitive spot on her hip bone, then proceeded down her left leg.

  ‘What are you doing?’ She managed to lever herself up on her elbows as he sucked her toes into his mouth and started to do improbably wonderful things to them.

  ‘Kissing you,’ Quin said as he moved to her right foot. ‘It obviously needs more work as you aren’t senseless yet.’

  The back of her right knee was just as ticklish as her left, her hipbone just as sensitive on that side. And then he slid between her thighs, gently pushed her legs apart and began to kiss her intimately.

  Cleo writhed and sobbed and begged, but Quin was relentless. He seemed to know to within a fraction of a second when the swirl of his tongue was about to tip her over into oblivion, to a hairsbreadth where the nip of his teeth was pleasure and not pain. The universe spun down to the place where Quin’s mouth made love to her and then fractured into swirling stars and burning galaxies and he was in her arms again, and within her, and they were moving together in an aching harmony that ended, finally, blissfully, as they found a peak together and plunged off it, locked in love.

  * * *

  ‘Cleo?’ Quin stretched with slow, luxurious delight, and looked down at his wife, twined about his body in sensual abandon.

  ‘Mmm?’

  ‘I love you.’ It was very easy to say, when those three words were all he needed to make sense of the world.

  ‘I hope so, after that,’ she murmured against his collarbone. ‘Have I told you recently that I love you, too?’

  ‘I seem to recall it.’

  ‘Are you happy?’

  ‘Oh, yes. More than I can say.’

  ‘Truly? She looked up, her eyes wide and soft, full of satisfied love.