An Affair so Right Page 14

  “I can join you in the morning.”

  “I don’t think you should come.”

  She leaned forward, her heart taking a leap almost out of her chest at the idea she’d outlived her usefulness to him. She was finally beginning to find her way as his secretary. To understand his moods and whims too. “Why not?”

  A deep frown marred his brow, and he paused a long moment before answering. “In my home, my staff know the history of why you are there. They understand how much you’ve lost, and see how hard you have worked to keep your mind off that loss. At Newberry House, others might see you as less than you are. I will not tolerate anyone treating you or your mother unfavorably.”

  She truly admired Quinn Ford for his protective habits. She also loved being in his arms, where decisions about the future were kept at bay.

  They both knew she need not be his secretary although they’d never discussed it once. Her mother had funds to make their every wish come true, if she ever asked for the gems to be returned to her. They could stay behind or leave to settle in their own home at any time they wished. But she felt, deep down in her bones, that remaining at Quinn’s side was what she was meant to do right now.

  “I am your secretary, and that is all anyone needs to know about me,” she said briskly.

  His gaze pierced her with a questioning glance. “That’s not strictly true. You do have other options.”

  She smiled quickly. “Mother told me about the gems.”

  His breath rushed out. “And?”

  “She refuses to discuss any future use of them yet. She does not wish to leave England, so I am stuck as I am. Money or not, I would prefer to spend my days being employed in a useful manner.”

  He nodded slowly. “And what of the other business between us? Someone might suspect our intimate connection if you are spotted leaving my new chambers in the mornings,” he said, frowning.

  A chill swept her. Quinn thought of bedding her as a matter of business? She fought not to show any distress at such an impersonal label for the hours they’d spent comforting each other. “What is there to suspect? I will work as diligently as ever.”

  “I don’t want…” He smiled tightly. “I would not like my family to become difficult about you. You don’t yet know their ways.”

  “For heaven’s sake, I’m not going to tell anyone we’ve slept together.”

  “Who slept?” he quipped, but his brief moment of levity faded fast as he frowned again.

  She studied his face, wondering what else he wasn’t telling her. Did he regret the nights they’d spent in his bed? Did he want her to stop visiting his room, now that he was an earl? She couldn’t quite bring herself to ask that question, so she chuckled softly in response to his quip.

  He sighed heavily. “My father was difficult in life. In death, I expect his affairs to be no different,” he confessed. “I have to assess his estate, judge what debts he holds over others, and decide what to pursue or forgive. I must curry favor with offended acquaintances. Take up unfinished tasks, however unpleasant they might be.”

  “I am your secretary, Quinn. I am not afraid of long hours or unsettling discoveries,” she promised him. “Let me do what you have employed me to do. Let me help you. That is all I want.”

  He let out a tortured sigh.

  “What truly bothers you?”

  “I’m afraid of what we’ll find.” His expression grew pained. “He’s tainted my life.”

  “I would never hold you responsible for your father’s actions. I know now that you’re nothing like him.”

  “But many will believe I am.” He glanced her way, jaw clenching briefly. “Did you see Mr. Cushing approach me after the funeral? He insists on coming to see me. I have a sense that whatever it is he has to say will be unpleasant, and affects me particularly. My fear is that my father will have committed me to some mad scheme meant to extend his power, and now my own.”

  “Many fathers scheme to better their children’s expectations. Usually, they mean the best for their sons and daughters.” Theodora gasped when Quinn winced, realizing at once what he was really concerned about. “Has your father committed you to a marriage?”

  “I don’t believe so.”

  The air rushed from Theodora’s lungs suddenly. Her relief was immediate and acute. She did not have to give up Quinn for that future yet. But it was understandable for him to worry about the possibility. Theodora understood his mood better now, even as her own heart pinched with fear that his father might just have been the sort to bind him into an unbreakable marriage contract and not warn him. “Your father did not confide in you?”

  “Never. Father snapped out orders and expected me to come to heel,” Quinn replied, swishing his hand as if he held something.

  A chill swept over her skin. “How did he do that?”

  “Not now, love,” he whispered, closing his eyes and blocking Theodora out of his thoughts.

  Theodora wanted to understand this man. To know why Lord Templeton provoked such hatred from his eldest son. Templeton had not been spoken of fondly by anyone within Theodora’s hearing, and his seduction of Quinn’s mistress showed a distinct lack of morals. “Why not talk about it now? It is just us alone. I would like to better understand how you feel about him.”

  He sighed, eyes flashing open and pinning her with an angry stare. “When I was a little lad, not more than eight years old, I fell off my horse far from home. I broke my arm. My father was with me, and no one else. I remember turning to him in agony…and him turning away. He told me to be a man and bear the discomfort in silence. He used his riding crop across my backside to get me to remount my horse immediately. I remember thinking he must hate me.”

  “Oh, Quinn. That is horrible. How could he?”

  “He didn’t hate me. As I aged, I realized I was a commodity he meant to use for his own gain, as he tried to use my younger brothers and cousins at times, too. None of us got off lightly. Mary, I fear, suffered the most at his hands.”

  “Your sister?” Theodora still did not understand why the young woman was not spoken of more openly, but she had the worst feeling about what they did not say. Questions burned her tongue. “What happened to Mary?”

  He paled, glancing away. “I do not know, but I fear some situation he placed Mary in meant death was her only escape.”

  “She…” Theodora could barely speak the words. “She killed herself?”

  At his curt nod, her stomach roiled. No wonder Quinn had been so insistent that she accept her father’s death was an accident. No wonder the staff refused to speak of her passing to anyone. They were afraid to speak of it, none more so than Quinn appeared to be now.

  He moved restlessly, fingers worrying at his coat edge. “What happened to Mary could have been avoided if I’d not been so wrapped up in myself and my efforts to thwart our father at every turn.”

  “Surely you cannot blame yourself?” He said nothing to that, but she saw the proof of his feelings writ large on his face. He did blame himself. “Quinn, you are not responsible for everyone’s happiness.”

  “I grew to hate him, especially so since her passing for the way he brushed aside her death without a proper investigation. I’ve done as much as I can to protect my remaining siblings, all the while secretly wishing all manner of indignities upon him. I suppose knowing he was so desperate to prove himself my better by seducing my former mistress is as much revenge as I could ever have.”

  “He suffered,” she promised him, certain that Lord Templeton had been aware of what was going on around him, even if no one else believed her, until the very end of his life. “For a man who liked to be in control, his helplessness would have been agony.”

  Quinn’s smile was tight. “There is little comfort in that, since any knowledge of Mary’s last days died with him.”

  Theodora grew very still, watching Quinn. The jolly viscount was gone, replaced by a man who would become bitter if not turned aside from that path.

  She looked
out the window, thinking hard. Some men were cruel, and it was a bleak relationship she could hardly comprehend between father and son. Quinn Ford had so many admirable qualities—devotion to family, compassion for those in need. His father should have been so proud of him, instead of always finding Quinn wanting.

  She could not allow this man to become trapped by hate. She would not allow Quinn to push her away in his time of need. “Work has taken my mind off my father’s death, and so it will for you, too.” She smiled brightly. “Whatever comes, you can confide in me if you need to. I would never tell anyone.”

  “Adele said that too.” He set his head back against the squabs. “And all the while, she was playing me false. She had her own agenda, to advance her career through our connection, and when that wasn’t enough she likely applied to my father for his support, too.”

  “My only concern is being of help to you. You have done so much for my mother and I. It would be impossible to repay you unless you take me with you. I want to be of use more than anything. I think I have been so far.”

  He studied her, and then his eyes skimmed her dark mourning gown, coming to rest on her breasts. Her pulse kicked up speed, and she brought her hand to her chest. Mourning gowns could never be considered pretty, but when alone, Quinn had a way of watching her that made her think he looked beyond them to what lie beneath.

  His lips quirked a little on one side. “You have. More than you know.”

  She smiled shyly. “I’m glad.”

  He leaned forward suddenly, placing his hand firmly on her knee. His touch was insistent as he pushed her gown between her thighs in his quest to reach her quim. Her breath caught as he succeeded, and skimmed her sex with firm pressure until she was panting with want and aching to lift her skirts for him.

  “I always want you like this,” he whispered.

  She breathed deeply, holding on to her rules by a mere thread. Quinn was so hard to rebuff. He made her almost angry with herself that she had so little control around him. Theodora would almost break her own rules just to make love to him during the day, to ease the yearning that never seemed to go away.

  “I feel the same, but…” Reluctantly, Theodora covered his wandering hand with hers and removed it from between her legs. “Forgive me.”

  He scowled fiercely at being denied. “You’d better come with me to Newberry House tonight,” he said.

  Theodora smiled broadly, considering it a victory to have achieved her goal to stay with him. “I can be ready.”

  He caught her smile and frowned again. “Better bring your mother and Soot, too. They’ll be your chaperones during the day to allay wagging tongues.”

  “And the nights?” Theodora let her attention drift to his groin, and couldn’t help but notice a decidedly flattering bulge had formed there.

  His eyes caught hers, and they softened slightly. “The nights will be decided by your invitation.”

  “Come to me tonight,” she whispered, anticipation rippling over her skin. They’d never made love in her bedchamber before. She had always gone to him. But with mother preoccupied with her puppy, she depended less on Theodora for company.

  “Not tonight. There will likely be too many servants running about,” he suggested. “I would like to visit you the next night, when we are settled into Newberry House, if you are agreeable.”

  So long to wait, but she supposed it couldn’t be helped. Theodora nodded quickly. “I will speak to Mama about the necessity of the move and make sure the transition is smooth. I promise you’ll hardly notice her or Soot underfoot.”

  “As long as everyone else notices her presence as your chaperone, I will be content,” Quinn said with a wry smile. “Appearances matter very much at a time like this.”

  At last, they were of the same mind. “Indeed they do, my dear man.”

  Chapter 18

  “You look like hell, Templeton,” Captain William Ford exclaimed as he strode into the drawing room.

  Quinn smiled for his cousin’s sake and held out his hand while repressing the urge to glance around for his father on hearing the title mentioned aloud. He feared it might take a very long while to grow used to being referred to as Templeton rather than Lord Maitland. “Thank you, William. It’s good to see a friendly face, even with the sarcastic tongue you have in your head.”

  “I’m honest, and family, so must always be forgiven.” William sidestepped his outstretched hand and embraced him. Quinn’s back was pounded, and then he was released and stared at. William held him by the shoulders, his face full of concern. “I’d offer my condolences if they were necessary,” he said, knowing sympathy for the loss was the last thing Quinn wanted.

  He shrugged. “You know my feelings so well.”

  “I should. You’ve bent my ear enough over the years about how shoddily Templeton treated you.” William took a chair, accepted a cup of coffee from a footman when offered, and leaned back comfortably. “Things will be better now. For everyone.”

  Quinn hoped so. Every waking moment seemed a dream, a nightmare. He was grateful for the focus Theodora encouraged during the day. He took heed of her example and worked harder than ever, rather than fretting over his new responsibilities and all he must do for the good of the family. Last night, though, his first night in his new bed at Newberry House, Quinn had trouble sleeping because she was not near to talk to. He had not expected to miss her when she was only a few doors away down the hall.

  “As long as I can make sense of what he’s done, it will be.”

  “What do you mean?”

  William knew how to keep secrets. He had always taken Quinn’s side in any argument, so he felt no concern opening up to him now. “A Mr. Cushing spoke to me immediately after the burial. Do you know him?”

  William nodded. “I’ve heard the name before.”

  “He’s expected this morning. Wants to discuss an important matter of business that cannot wait. Since I have no connection with him beyond sharing a dinner with him a few weeks ago, it must be something my father had a hand in.”

  “A sticky hand, no doubt. He was always looking for a way to feather his nest, driving a hard bargain that suited his purpose more than the greater good.” William made a face, which made the scar he’d received in battle rather more frightening than usual. “Cushing is quick in coming to you so soon after the funeral. Whatever it is must be very important to him.”

  He frowned, glancing toward the door. He was on edge today. Out of place in Newberry House, with its gilt-edged furniture and tiny silk pillows. He much preferred the rustic nature of Maitland House, but Mother had asked him to move, and at such a time, he could not refuse her. “Which makes me all the more worried about what the situation might be. What do you remember of him?”

  “Not a bad chap, well connected in trade of course. If I recall correctly, your father introduced us the year before my injury. Been in your father’s pocket this last year or more, I imagine. He has a few daughters, one of an age to come out soon, if memory serves.” William’s eyes narrowed further, and then he rolled his eyes. “Matchmaking from the grave?”

  Quinn considered Cushing’s anxiety, his urgency to speak in private as soon as possible, and feared the worst for their meeting. Marriage was utterly out of the question. Father had known his views on arranged alliances. He’d only marry for love. He was convinced that was the only way to be happy with a wife. He’d been as firm on the subject as it was possible to be.

  And yet he couldn’t shake the feeling that his father had committed him to some foolish scheme anyway.

  “Shall I stay?” William offered.

  “I’d appreciate it.” William could be trusted to hold his tongue, and his support might be needed if Cushing proved difficult. Quinn would not agree to marry anyone his father had picked out for him. “If you’ve nothing else to do, that is.”

  “Certainly I can stay. I warned Matilda I might visit with you for a while. She knows I’m the sensible, levelheaded one, and you’re the e
motional one.”

  “Emotional?”

  William leaned forward, lowering his voice. “You were the one who recklessly dove off a cliff after Mary when she drowned herself.”

  “You were right behind me, if I recall.”

  “I swam out from the shore, not dive from the cliff top. We’re lucky we didn’t bury two bodies that day,” William ground out.

  Many thought William a cold man, but Quinn had seen through his facade of restraint long ago. William felt too deeply to bear to show it sometimes. William and Theodora had that in common, except for the anger. Even though Quinn had been grieving over losing Mary, William had torn strips off Quinn later in privacy about that reckless dive. “We were both desperate.”

  “It was a shock to all of us to lose her like that.” William sat back, worrying at his lower lip. “Perhaps, now that your father is out of the way, we can finally put the matter to rest.”

  “Father denied any involvement in her death but the topic came up recently, and I thought he acted very guilty. Of course, he fell ill before I could discover more, and is dead now, so what he knew died with him.” Quinn glanced toward the study that was now his. “I’ll have to look elsewhere for answers, if there are any to be had.”

  “I’ve already told you all I know, but do you need my help?”

  He considered William’s suggestion seriously. Whatever had happened before Mary had died must have been terrible. The fewer people who learned the details, the better. However, there was one person who might approach his problem with clearer eyes. He’d already begun to seek Theodora’s opinion on many things, including how women viewed romantic situations. Sharing his concerns with Theodora would require that he trust her with a very dark moment in his past. It was a risk he wasn’t sure he should take with his family’s reputation yet. “No, but thank you.”