Beauty And The Brooding Lord. Sarah Mallory

had given her a modicum of protection.

      Putting herself in Sir Timothy’s power had changed all that. She had been in real danger. He had intended to rape her, then force her into marriage to gain control of her fortune. She had fought him desperately, prepared to die rather than give in, and the bruises around her throat convinced her that her defiance might well have ended with her death.

      Quinn had rescued her, but her life was still in ruins. Dorothea and Henry would insist she went into the country. If the whole affair could be hushed up then after a suitable period she might be allowed to return to society, but she knew she would never be as confident, happy and carefree as she had been one day ago. Things had changed. She had changed. No matter how brightly the sun shone everything was dulled by the grey cloud that enveloped her and weighed heavily upon her spirits.

      ‘You are not attending, Miss Russington.’

      Lord Quinn’s gruff tones brought Serena out of her reverie and she quickly begged pardon.

      ‘I asked what you thought of these roses from China. They bloom every spring, even this year, despite the atrocious weather.’

      ‘Oh. Yes. They are very beautiful.’ She glanced up, needing to be truthful. ‘I was thinking of my future.’

      ‘No doubt you think it destroyed for ever,’ he said. ‘Do not believe it. You are feeling very sorry for yourself at present but you will forget this unfortunate episode, in time.’

      ‘I do not think so.’ She pulled her arm free to rearrange her shawl.

      ‘Believe me, you will recover. Why should you not, when you have all the advantages of birth, fortune and a family to support you?’

      ‘I never thought myself in any danger until yesterday. Until Sir Timothy b-began to maul me.’ Her fingers crept to her throat. ‘I thought I was going to die. I shall never forget that.’

      ‘Perhaps not, but you must not let it blight your life.’

      His cool assurance annoyed her.

      ‘How dare you tell me what I must or must not do? What do you know about me, about how I feel?’ She gave an angry sob, saying wildly, ‘There is nothing left for me now. Nothing.’

      ‘Stop that!’ He caught her shoulders, pulling her round to face him and giving her a little shake. ‘You are what,’ he demanded, ‘eighteen, nineteen?’

      She turned her head away, presenting the undamaged side of her face to him.

      ‘Much older than that.’ She sniffed. ‘I am almost one-and-twenty.’

      ‘Very well then. You have years of happiness before you, if you wish it, and with such advantages as many can only dream of. How dare you think your life is over, merely because some ignominious creature tried to seduce you? He did not succeed and you are alive, Serena. Alive. You should be grateful for that.’

       He has lost someone.

      She looked up into his eyes and saw the pain behind his anger. Her self-pity faded. She wanted to apologise, to ask him about his past, but even as the words were forming he released her and turned away.

      ‘It is time we returned to the house.’ He drew her hand back through his arm. ‘Your family will be here soon. It is better that they do not find us wandering out of doors.’

      * * *

      Serena was sitting in the drawing room with Mrs Talbot when Henry and Dorothea arrived. The latticed windows of the panelled room looked out across the gardens, so she did not hear the coach on the drive, but at the sound of voices in the great hall she rose and faced the door.

      ‘Where is she?’ Dorothea’s shrill voice echoed through the house and an instant later she was in the room, hurrying towards Serena. ‘Oh, good heavens, look at your face!’

      ‘It is only a bruise, Dorothea. I have suffered no other hurt, I promise you.’

      ‘Then you have escaped more lightly than you deserve! What on earth possessed you to go off like that? We have been positively frantic with worry!’

      ‘Now, now, my dear, do not scold her. We must be thankful that Serena is safe and well.’ Henry followed his wife into the room, less anger and more concern in his face.

      Dorothea took Serena’s hands and gave her a searching look. ‘You are sure there is no irrevocable harm done?’

      ‘None, Dorothea, you have my word.’ Serena glanced at Mrs Talbot, who was moving towards the door.

      ‘If you will excuse me, Miss Russington, I am sure Lord and Lady Hambridge would like a little wine and cake after their journey.’

      As the door closed behind the housekeeper, Dorothea rounded on Serena.

      ‘Foolish, thoughtless girl, to deceive us in this way! When you did not come home last night I naturally thought I had mistaken the matter and you were staying with the Downings. Then this morning, when Elizabeth and her brother came to ask if you had recovered, I was quite thrown into a panic.’ Dorothea sank down on the sofa, pulling out her handkerchief. ‘I was so overset there was no keeping from them that you were not at home. The shame of it! It will be months before we will be able to hold our heads up again.’

      Henry patted her shoulder. ‘There, there, my dear, pray do not distress yourself.’ He looked at Serena and took up the tale. ‘If it had not been for the fact that you had quite clearly engineered this whole escapade, Serena, we would have called in the Runners immediately. As it is, Lord Quinn’s note arrived shortly after the Downings had quit the house.’

      ‘It was very bad of me, Henry, I apologise.’

      ‘Apologies are no good,’ snapped Dorothea. ‘Your credit with the Downings is quite gone. Oh, they have promised they will not say a word, but I do not doubt they are laughing up their sleeves at us, convinced you made a secret assignation.’

      ‘I did, Dorothea, but everything went horribly wrong.’ Serena hung her head. ‘I arranged to go to Vauxhall with Sir Timothy Forsbrook.’

      ‘Forsbrook!’ cried Henry. ‘Then what are you doing at Melham Court?’

      They were interrupted by a soft knock on the door and their host came in.

      ‘I could not help overhearing your question, Hambridge,’ he said, with all his customary bluntness. ‘Perhaps you will allow me to answer for your sister. She is not yet fully recovered from her ordeal.’ Gently, he took Serena’s arm and guided her back to her chair. ‘Forsbrook abducted Miss Russington and brought her to the Swan, just outside Hitchin, where I came upon him, forcing his attentions upon her.’

      ‘The devil he was!’ Henry sank down beside his wife.

      ‘I understand his plan was to make sure of her before carrying on to the border, where he would make her his wife.’

      ‘For her fortune, no doubt!’ put in Dorothea.

      Quinn bowed. ‘Precisely, ma’am. When Miss Russington realised his intention, she bravely fought him off, but it left her understandably distressed. There being no suitable female at the Swan, I brought Miss Russington to Melham Court and placed her in the care of my housekeeper.’

      The way Quinn relayed the story it all sounded so sensible and straightforward, thought Serena. And perfectly respectable. There was no reason he should tell them that he had helped her, naked, from the bath. That she had spent the night in his arms.

      A second knock heralded the return of Mrs Talbot with refreshments. Serena took advantage of the distraction to glance up at Quinn. His smile was brief but reassuring.

      When they were alone again, Henry said, ‘We are in your debt, my lord, for your assistance to our sister.’

      ‘Although I have to say she brought it on herself,’ Dorothea said, ‘scheming to go off alone with a man. I have warned her,