Beauty And The Brooding Lord. Sarah Mallory

Russington. I am Lord Hambridge’s ward. But I pray you will not blame him for my present predicament.’

      ‘I don’t. I have no doubt you told him some tarradiddle so you could slip away this evening.’

      She tensed, and said coldly, ‘I think you should release me. It is most improper for you to have your arm about me like this.’

      ‘Improper, perhaps, but necessary. In the dark you will not be prepared for the twists and turns of the road. My team, however, are very familiar with this route and need little guidance from me.’

      ‘You can drive one-handed?’ Her indignation died away as quickly as it had come. ‘I am impressed. Not that you wish to impress me, do you, Lord Quinn? You think me a sad romp.’

      ‘No, I merely think you foolish.’ The stiff little body beside him drooped a little and he softened his tone. ‘Perhaps you should tell me how you came to be at the Swan this evening. And who was your companion?’

      He thought at first she would not reply. Then she began to speak, her voice low and tightly controlled.

      ‘The man was Sir Timothy Forsbrook. He said he would take me to Vauxhall Gardens, but instead he was going to carry me off to Scotland. I did not realise the deceit until we were out of London.’ She added bitterly, ‘He tricked me finely! He said that he thought I wanted to elope with him, so he had arranged it all. Elope!’ She shuddered. ‘I am sure I gave him no such indication!’

      ‘Yet you agreed to go to Vauxhall with him.’

      Silence, then, ‘Yes.’

      ‘And would I be correct in assuming your dowry is...substantial?’

      ‘Of course. I know now that is why he ran off with me, but he d-did not admit it at first. When I told him I did not wish to elope he begged pardon and said he had quite misunderstood and we would go back just as soon as we had changed horses. When we reached the Swan, I wanted to remain in the carriage, but the night mail followed us into the yard and he said I would be sure to attract attention. He...he had bespoken a room where I might rest in private.’

      ‘And you believed him?’ He could not keep the incredulity out of his voice.

      ‘He had given me no cause then to think he would not respect my wishes. He was so polite, so remorseful that I truly believed he was in earnest, that he really was protecting my honour. Instead he...he t-tried to...’

      She began to shake, quite violently, and his arm tightened.

      ‘Enough. I can guess the rest.’

      With relief he saw they were approaching the gatehouse of Melham Court and he slowed the greys. The bridge and archway leading into the courtyard were narrow, but at least there were no tight corners to negotiate one-handed. He brought the team to a stand before the door and a servant ran out to take their heads. Serena was still trembling. Quinn picked her up and carried her into the house. It was the work of a moment, but he was aware of two things. She weighed almost nothing in his arms and she smelled of summer meadows.

      * * *

      If Dunnock thought it unusual for his master to arrive with a strange woman in his arms, he was too wise a butler to show it. Quinn made directly for the drawing room, requesting that the housekeeper should attend him.

      It was his custom whenever he was returning to Melham to send word ahead in order that the principal rooms could be prepared, so he was not surprised to find a good blaze in the hearth. He lowered Serena gently into a chair beside the fire and she huddled into her shawl, leaning towards the flames. She barely seemed to notice him.

      His housekeeper came bustling in and he explained without preamble.

      ‘I found Miss Russington at the Swan. She is very distressed and I need you to take care of her, Mrs Talbot. She will need a hot brick for her bed.’ He glanced down at the dishevelled figure hunched over the fire. ‘And a bath.’

      ‘Aye, of course, my lord. I always make sure there is hot water when you are due back, but ’tis only enough for one. And...’ She stopped, consternation in every line of her kindly face.

      ‘Yes?’

      ‘Everything is set up in your dressing room, my lord. I can easily have the hip bath removed to the guest room, but there is no fire burning there and it will take a time to get it warm.’

      ‘Bathe her in my rooms, then, while you have the guest room prepared. And be sure to have a bed made up in there for one of the maids. She must not be left alone—do you understand me? I will remain here until you have finished.’

      ‘Very good, my lord.’ The housekeeper turned to Serena. ‘Come along then, my dear, let us get you into a warm bath and you will soon feel better. And perhaps we’ll find you a little soup afterwards, what do you say to that?’

      Serena made no response, but she allowed Mrs Talbot to help her out of the room. Quinn threw himself into the vacated chair. All this was a damned nuisance, but what else could he do? A hired coach would have taken several hours to get her back to town and, aside from the perils of making such a journey alone and at night, there was no telling what distress she would be in by the time she reached her home. He was not prepared to have that on his conscience.

      It would not do for him to remain here, though. As soon as the women had finished with his dressing room he would pack himself a bag and remove to Prior’s Holt. Tony Beckford and his wife were still in London, but the staff there knew him well and would not deny him, even at this late hour. He closed his eyes, too tired to consider anything more right now.

      * * *

      An hour later Mrs Talbot’s tactful cough roused Quinn from his sleep.

      He sat up in the chair, saying irritably, ‘What is it now?’

      ‘I beg your pardon, my lord, but ’tis the young lady. She is still in the bath. I’ve built up the fires in the guest room—and in your bedroom, too, my lord—but the bathwater is turning cold now. I’ve looked out one of my dressing gowns for her, too, but she won’t budge. I’m afraid she will catch a chill if we don’t get her dry soon.’

      ‘For heaven’s sake, woman, can’t you get her out of the water?’

      ‘Every time anyone goes near her she screams fit to bust.’ The housekeeper wrung her hands. ‘She keeps scrubbing away at herself, sir, and muttering. I’m sure I don’t know what to do for the best.’

      Smothering an oath Quinn pushed himself to his feet. ‘Very well, let me see her.’

      * * *

      The steamy warmth of the dressing room hit Quinn as soon as he entered. Serena was sitting in the hip bath but facing away from him, the smooth skin of her neck and shoulders golden in the candlelight. Someone had pinned up her fair curls to keep them dry and she was rubbing at her arms with the sponge. A young maid was in attendance, watching Serena with an almost frightened intensity. A screen was set up to protect the bather from the draughty window and thrown over it was a large towel and a bundle of white cotton that he assumed was Mrs Talbot’s dressing gown.

      The housekeeper picked up the towel, saying cheerily, ‘Now then, miss, time we wrapped you in this nice warm sheet.’

      ‘I am not yet clean.’ Serena rubbed even harder at her arms.

      ‘You’ll take the skin off if you scrub yourself any more, miss. Come along.’

      Serena lashed out, shrieking, and Mrs Talbot backed away, turning an anguished face to Quinn. He took the towel from her.

      ‘Leave us, both of you.’

      The maid scuttled out, followed more slowly by the housekeeper, and Quinn moved around until he was facing Serena. There was a livid bruise on one cheek and she had rubbed her arms until they were red, but he saw marks on her neck and arms that had not been caused by the constant scouring. He wished now that he had spent longer