Quint blinked. What was she talking about? He hadn’t heard a word since—“Oh, monstrous. Right, you are. It’s a good house, but I don’t have the room for a full complement of servants. I hope you don’t mind, but I can always hire from the village.”
“Oh, no. I don’t mind. In fact, I can help.”
“I don’t think that will be necessary.”
With an abashed smile, she turned back to the window.
Quint was relieved that those piercing brown-gold eyes had left his face. It gave him a moment to collect himself. Whenever he was close to his bride, she seemed to distract him with some new quality he hadn’t noticed before. All day in the carriage, it had been her scent. The comparison of her mouth to a peach had not been capricious. He’d smelled peaches, and the closer he leaned to his bride, the more intoxicated he became. When she had been sleeping on top of him, the scent was so strong and so tantalizing that he had been unable to resist stroking her long, black hair.
But his attempts at seduction had been quite deliberate and quite personal. He’d planned most of this last night. He would win her affections while remaining coolly detached. But it would not be easy. Everything about her tempted him, and he knew the signs of a drowning man. Allowing himself to care for this woman was a dangerous proposition. She had tricked him into marriage.
Beside him, Catherine tensed, and he peered past her. They were nearing the house now, and his servants had come out to greet him. There were perhaps nine in all—good people, most of whom had worked for his family for years—but Catherine eyed them as though they were a revolutionary mob after her head.
“Catie, you needn’t be afraid.” He put his hand on her arm, and she jumped.
“I’m sorry,” she said, putting her hand to her heart. “I become nervous around new people.”
Quint stared at her and forced himself to take a deep breath. What was his job but meeting new people—diplomats, up-and-coming luminaries of Parliament, even political opponents? The world of politics was constantly shifting and changing. What was he to do with a wife who ran and hid every time she saw someone new?
The coach slowed and pulled around the circular drive, and one of Quint’s footmen opened the door and lowered the stairs. Before he exited, Quint gave Catherine’s hand a reassuring squeeze. “I’ll be right by your side. Just smile, and you’ll get through it.”
She nodded somewhat stiffly, her face pale and her hands trembling in his. Quint prayed she wouldn’t faint or make a scene.
Quint exited first, then with great ceremony, he held out his hand and assisted Catherine from the carriage. When she stepped down, he whispered, “Smile.”
She gave a tight grimace.
Quint could see that for their part, his staff was ecstatic to meet their new mistress. The servants clapped and cheered at the sight of Catherine, but this only seemed to make her more nervous.
Quint held up a hand to quiet them. “Your new mistress, Lady Valentine.”
The servants cheered again, and Quint felt Catherine go limp beside him. He put an arm about her waist and assisted her up the stairs to the door, but he couldn’t stop himself from wondering if this was an act or real fear.
His housekeeper came forward, eager to be first to welcome the new mistress, but Quint whispered to her, “Mrs. Crumb, might we do introductions another time? I fear my wife is overly tired from the long trip.”
“Of course, my lord. I’ll have her things brought to your chambers.”
“Then you received my letter?” Quint asked.
“Yes, my lord. And this morning the workers began the improvements that you specified.”
Quint felt like a scoundrel. He’d sent that letter by express post last night, indicating he wanted the room that would have been Catherine’s completely redone. While the room was in need of remodeling, the work was not necessary, especially considering that the other rooms in the house were occupied or untenable. In effect, Quint had ensured he and Catherine would share a bedroom. It was devious and low, not something that Quint would have normally done, but how else was he supposed to get close to her?
And after all she had done, did she deserve any better?
“Thank you, Mrs. Crumb.” As the housekeeper led Catherine away, Quint tried to give her a reassuring smile. She looked terrified, not a bit like the devious little liar he imagined her.
At length, when Quint had settled back into his chambers, gone over accounts with his estate manager, and attended to various other tasks associated with being a property owner, he looked at the clock and saw that it was after eleven.
He took a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair. No point in putting it off any longer. It was time he joined his wife in bed.
And he wouldn’t feel any qualms about doing so. She had wanted this marriage enough to have him drugged. She had duped him. Hadn’t she?
The rest of the house was dark and silent as he walked up the stairs, lamp in hand, and opened the door to his room. Catherine was sitting in bed, book propped on her knee. She looked up at him, and he paused for a moment to catch his breath. Her long, silky hair flowed over the pretty pink nightgown she wore. Her cheeks were rosy, her eyelids heavy. He had the crazy impulse to go to her, take her into his arms, and just hold her. The impulse was shaken when she saw him. She clutched the covers, and shrieked, “What do you want?”
Quint closed the door behind him slowly and set the lamp on a small side table. “I want to go to bed.”
He sat in a silk-striped armchair and began taking off his boots. Dorsey, his valet, had not accompanied him on this trip, and that had not been an accident. Quint wanted no servants interrupting his time with his wife.
