Fortune's Prince. Allison Leigh

a point of studying the display.

      “Getting a microphone stuck in your face or a camera flash blinding you every time you go out in public would be a pain in the butt,” Deke said, as if nothing had happened. Then he looked around at the silence his unexpected input drew. His eyebrows rose. “Well. Would be,” he drawled in conclusion.

      And that seemed to be that.

      Nobody else broached the subject about Amelia’s unplanned appearance. Nor did the topic of the wedding come up again.

      And Quinn never returned to their picnic table.

      He stuck around long enough to have a piece of the three-layer chocolate cake when Jeanne Marie presented it, along with a peach pie that was so picturesque it might have come out of the kitchens at the Chesterfield estate. But whenever Amelia entered his vicinity, he exited hers.

      It was so plainly obvious that he was avoiding her that she felt herself receiving looks of sympathy from Stacey, Delaney and Liam’s fiancée, Julia, who’d arrived in time for dessert.

      She didn’t want sympathy.

      She wanted Quinn’s love.

      In the absence of that, at least his understanding.

      But clearly he wasn’t going to offer that, either.

      She saw him shake Deke’s hand, drop a kiss on her aunt’s cheek and exchange easily a half-dozen goodbyes with some of the others, without a single glance her way. And then he was walking away, heading out of sight around the corner of her aunt’s house.

      She swallowed and sucked all of her feelings inward until she felt reasonably confident that her expression was calm. She listened in on Toby and Angie’s conversation as they talked about the difficulties they kept encountering trying to adopt the three Hemings children Toby had been fostering ever since she’d first met him, and knew she made the appropriate nods and sounds when she should have. But a portion of her mind was wondering if she could get back home again without drawing undue media attention.

      Which was rather laughable to worry about now.

      The attention she’d draw once word of her pregnancy got out would thoroughly eclipse what she’d already garnered.

      And poor James. Instead of dealing with the embarrassment of a broken engagement, he would have to endure speculation over being the baby’s father. It wouldn’t matter that he wasn’t. It wouldn’t matter what statements were issued or what proof was given.

      Forever on, people would whisper. Every time either one of them did something to draw the attention of the media, the scandal would be dug up all over again, regurgitated on the internet or on gossip networks.

      They’d all pay the price and none more dearly than her and Quinn’s innocent baby.

      Her head swam dizzily and she excused herself, walking blindly. She instinctively followed the path that Quinn had taken, heading around the side of the house and away from all of the noisy gaiety.

      Going home was as impossible as staying in Horseback Hollow would be.

      The thought came over her in a wave and her knees went weak. She stopped, bracing herself with one hand against the side of the house.

      “Are you going to pass out again?”

      She nearly jumped out of her skin at the sound of Quinn’s voice. He was standing a few feet away, his hazel eyes alert, as though he was ready to leap forward if he had to.

      At least he didn’t hate her badly enough to allow her to collapse flat on her face.

      She let out a choking laugh at the thought, which only had him closing the distance between them, his expression even warier as he clasped her bare arms.