His new wife’s back went ramrod straight, like a stag who has been shot with a mortal arrow. She paused, hand on the doorknob. Quint held his breath, praying to God she’d reconsidered.
She looked back. “My name is Catherine.” And she opened the door and walked into the London morning.
Quint looked at his butler and then back at the line of servants peering down the hall and over the staircase. As one, they looked down and proceeded to work diligently at their tasks.
Quint grabbed the door and slammed it shut. Idiot woman! Let her go out there and make a fool of herself. This was exactly what he’d meant when he’d said he didn’t want her doing anything rash.
From outside he heard a man yell, and then there was a crash, and Quint shut his eyes. Dear God, the woman was already stopping traffic. Quint pulled the door open again, saw his wife strolling down the walk in front of his house—head high, shoulders bare, sheets pulled up to her ears. He whipped back to his servants. “Fetch my boots and my horse.” They gawked at him. “Now!”
QUINT WENT AFTER HER. It had taken more time than he liked to fetch the horse from the mews and to saddle the beast, but Quint had used the minutes to tug on the pants he’d worn the day before. Unfortunately, the quick search of his room had not uncovered Catherine’s clothing.
Quint spurred his horse forward, following the trail of surprised and whispering people Catherine had left in her wake. He saw her a moment later, and he thanked God it was early enough that most Londoners were still abed. She could have been hurt or accosted by now.
“Catherine!” he yelled, galloping up beside her.
She barely glanced at him. “I see you remember my name.”
He tightened his grip on the reins to stop himself from snatching her right then. “It was a small mistake. And an understandable one.”
“I see.” She marched on.
He decided to try reasoning with her. “Catherine, I know you’re upset right now, but you have to come home.”
“I have no home,” she said, and he could have sworn she increased her pace.
“I meant come to my home. Just for now. Temporarily. Until we sort all of this out.” Quint looked ahead, trying to determine where she might be headed. As he did so, he saw the Secretary of the Navy’s coach approaching. He ducked his head as the secretary peered out the window at him.
Catherine did not even notice. “I don’t think so.”
Quint was becoming desperate. Another block, and they would reach the heart of Mayfair. Not to mention, it was later than he’d first thought. The streets were already beginning to crowd. He tried one last attempt at reason. “Catherine, I’m going to ask one more time.” He spurred his horse forward so that it blocked her path. “I’m begging you,” he said, choking on the words as though they were poison. “Please turn back.”
She barely glanced up at him, stepped to the right, and walked straight by the horse, dragging the bedsheets in the dirt after her.
That was it. Quint was a reasonable man, but he had his limits. The moment she was on his opposite side, he leaned down, caught her by the arm, and swept her over the horse on her belly in front of him.
As he expected, she did not go willingly, she fought him, losing a good portion of the bedclothes in the process, but he was able to throw one sheet over her. Then it was just a matter of holding her down and starting for home.
The horse he rode was a gentle mare, and Quint thanked God for that blessing. He could not have controlled a nervous horse and held on to Catherine. He had one arm clamped firmly on her bottom, which stuck up on one side. Her head hung down on the other, her long black hair trailing on the ground.
“Let go of me!” She squirmed and swiped at him before grabbing on to his leg again for fear of falling.
“Hold on, you silly chit. We’re almost there.”
That statement only elicited another round of squirming and fighting until he finally grabbed her around the waist and yelled, “Unless you want me to lift this sheet, and swat your bare bottom right here, sit still!”
Fortunately, that did the trick. She stopped fighting and lay stiffly on the horse’s back. Unfortunately, he’d yelled the threat at the top of his voice, and people on the street were now staring at him. Not that they hadn’t been before, but somehow he’d attracted a crowd following him, and as soon as he turned up to his town house, the whole city would have his name on its lips.
Quint decided there were two ways to deal with the situation. One, he could cringe, run, and hide inside the house.
Two, he could make the best of it. People would talk no matter what, but his actions might influence what they said.
At his front walk, he slowed his horse and tossed the reins to one of his footmen. Then, with a wave to the crowd, he gathered Catherine and her sheet up. He pulled her off the horse, tossed her over his shoulder, and, smiling, marched into the house.
Chapter Nine
Catherine closed her eyes. All the blood was rushing to her head, and she felt so dizzy she could not have protested had she wanted to.
The horrible politician bounced her into the house and up the stairs. Catherine was almost glad she had not eaten anything in two days. If she had, she would surely have lost it.
