A Lord Rotheby's Holiday Bundle (41 page)

She likely wouldn’t.

But for the moment, she had a puppy
asleep on her lap, and far more to worry about than the mistakes
others chose to make.

Chapter
Twenty-Five

26 June, 1811

I give up. I tried to
match Rebecca with Lord Tucker Flynn, as I thought they would suit.
Rebecca then affianced herself to Lord Norcutt. Lord Tucker seems
all too inclined to chase after Miss Vivian Osbourne’s skirts,
though for the life of me I cannot imagine why a handsome, virile,
and engaging man such as himself would want to associate himself
with a chit hardly out of the schoolroom. And while it is quite
obvious to
me
that Nia and Sir Jonas have far more than a simple attraction
between them, they are both far more inclined to ignore each
others’ existence. They ought to listen to me, every one of them.
But since they refuse, I’ll leave them to their own devices at
tonight’s ball. In the meantime, I have decided it is best to focus
my attentions elsewhere. Such as naming my puppy. I rather like the
name Zeus, but Quin claims that is far too important a name. He
prefers Thief, since the pup likes to steal the position in bed
Quin believes to be his. We’ll have to find a compromise
eventually.

~From the journal of Lady
Quinton

“
Would it be terribly
gauche of me to allow Zeus to join us at the ball?” Aurora asked
from where she sat while her lady’s maid dressed her
hair.

Zeus
. She couldn’t name the blasted puppy after a god, for
Christ’s sake. Least of all the most formidable of all the Greek
gods. Quin had given her the hound because he thought it might make
her happy—somewhat as a peace offering for the brutish way he’d
treated her when they first married—but he never imagined she’d
coddle it quite the way she had been.

Not that he minded. It was rather
endearing, actually. If she was this head-over-ears in love with a
pup after less than two full days, he could only imagine how she
would be once their baby was born. Or how it would be if she loved
him half as much as she loved the dog. He had to admit, he was more
than only slightly jealous.

“
I do not think any of our
guests would think you gauche or ill-mannered for such a thing,
Aurora, particularly since all of the ladies seem to be of one mind
where
Thief
is
concerned. But what will you do if he decides to relieve himself on
Lady Aylesbury again? Her Grace may have been willing to forgive
once, but if he destroys a ball gown? Not as likely.”

“
Zeus
has made great strides in that area today, actually,” she
retorted. “We only found three messes in the salon all
day.”

“
Only three?” he replied
with more than a small dose of skepticism. The pup was too young to
have control over his needs yet.

“
And two more in the
refectory. Perhaps another in the gallery.”

He laughed. “Perhaps?”

“
Yes, perhaps. But you must
admit that is far better than the dozen or more accidents he had
yesterday.”

Her desperation to convince him of the
dog’s improvement was his own fault. Just last night, Quin had
threatened to put Thief in a baby’s nappy after stepping in an
unexpected pile in his office. Which, of course, meant more work
for his valet in preparation for tonight’s ball, since it had
smeared all over his Hessians.

But he never would have done it. One
can’t keep a dog in a nappy, after all. One must simply teach the
dog what to do and where to do it. “Yes, the dog has made great
strides. Perhaps he will only need to wear the nappy for six
months,” he said with a smile, earning an annoyed swat from his
wife’s fan.

Her lady’s maid stepped away just
then, smiling at the work she’d done with Aurora’s coiffure. Quin
wasn’t sure what to make of it. It looked lovely, to be sure. But
she looked lovely with it falling about her shoulders in waves, or
pulled into a simple chignon at the nape of her neck, or a
multitude of other ways. He couldn’t understand the need to spend
so much time on the task.

“
Are you ready now?” he
asked. “We should head down to the ballroom. It is time for our
guests to begin arriving, so we should be there to form the
receiving line.”

She nodded and took his arm. They made
their way through the winding hallways of the abbey, down a stair
and into the grand foyer. Every flower in the county had to have
been somehow collected in his home. Quin hadn’t seen the like at
Quinton Abbey since before Mercy died, when joy still resided
here.

But there would be joy here again.
Tonight, in fact. And if he hadn’t been so intent on achieving
misery, perhaps he could have enjoyed more of the past fortnight.
Aurora was doing everything in her power to provide him with all
that had been lacking in his life, and if he would quit fighting
against her so much, perhaps he could experience a bit of
it.

Forster directed them to the entry of
the ballroom, which fairly glimmered in the wash of
candlelight.

“
The townspeople won’t
believe their eyes,” Quin said to his wife. “You’ve more than
outdone yourself with all of this.”

Aurora just smiled up at him and
settled in to her place by his side. With his arm around her waist,
Quin couldn’t help but think how perfectly she fit him, like they
were truly made for each other.

Just before giving Forster the nod to
begin allowing their guests entrance, Quin leaned down to whisper
in Aurora’s ear, “Have I mentioned lately that I love you? Because
I do. Love you, that is.” He really ought to tell her more often.
That would be his new goal. He would make a point to tell her every
day.

He gave Forster the signal, and the
doors opened. In only moments, a line formed before them, filled
with both the guests who had been in his home for the last
fortnight and people he hadn’t seen since he was a small
boy.

Aurora smiled up at him with such joy
he thought the ice of his heart would melt into a puddle on the
ballroom floor. “And I love you,” she whispered back.

He must have misheard her. She
couldn’t have meant it.

But he had no opportunity to question
her on the matter, as Norcutt was standing before him with Lady
Rebecca on one arm and Lady Aylesbury on the other. It was time,
once again, to play the dutiful host.

Within a half hour, the ballroom had
filled to overflowing and more people were still trickling in. Not
only were the twenty members of the house party all present and
accounted for, but Aurora seemed to have invited everyone old
enough to walk who lived within a ten mile radius.

Quin glanced down the receiving line
to determine how much longer they might be rooted in place. What he
saw nearly evaporated his newly-found joy.

Griffin.

And Phoebe, too, blast her.

The evening had just taken a decided
turn for the worse. Quin wanted a brandy.

~ * ~

“
Mr. Poole, I am so glad
you’ve come this evening,” Quin said, taking the guest’s hand in
his own. Something was wrong. Aurora heard it in the tone of his
voice, in how it had suddenly gone from cordial to tense within the
span of a moment. “I do apologize, but I must excuse myself.”
Turning to Aurora, he said loud enough for only her to hear, “There
is something I must attend to. Please continue doing what you’re
doing. And no matter what happens, stay inside.”

He stepped back and away from her. She
wanted to go with him—to find out what had happened. But a swarm of
people still waited to be greeted and ushered inside, so she must
stay put. But did he have to make whatever was happening sound so
terribly ominous, like such a portent of evil and doom?

For only a moment, Aurora watched her
husband stalk down the receiving line and out of sight before
returning her attention to the guests before her. “Mrs. Poole, was
it? So very nice to make your acquaintance, ma’am.”

“
Oh, my lady,” the pretty
red-headed woman before her gushed, “it is so very kind of you to
issue an invitation to your home. Why, we haven’t ever been here
other than to tour it once while his lordship was away on the
continent. But to see it all alight with candles and adorned with
flowers and fashionable people? I daresay I’ve died and gone to
heaven.”

“
Well, I hope you and your
husband enjoy yourselves this evening,” Aurora responded. “Do be
sure to come back for”

The crowd in line jostled forward,
pushing into Mr. Poole’s back and cutting Aurora’s thoughts short.
The young farmer protectively reached out his arms to encircle his
wife.

“
Outside!” Was that Quin’s
voice? “Right this instant, Griffin. For that matter, you ought to
join us too, Phoebe. I don’t recall inviting you into my
home.”

Lord Griffin and Lady Phoebe? Aurora
hadn’t sent them an invitation. She didn’t think Quin would feel
too kindly about having his former fiancée in his home. And no
matter what, Aurora didn’t want Griffin there. Not after what he’d
put them through.

Oh, dear good Lord. Could he be the
one behind these new stories that were surfacing? Of course he was.
She ought to have known right from the start. She just hadn’t been
thinking much about that, because of the baby and the house party,
and so many other things going on in her mind.

She ought to have told Quin all along.
To have trusted him to do what was right. But instead, she kept it
quiet. To protect whom? Quin? Herself? The only person she had
actually protected was Lord Griffin, the last person on earth who
needed her protection.

Except he might just need it at the
moment. The crowd convulsed toward her again, with dazed gasps and
shouts mingling together in the cavernous hall. If they were to
tussle, Quin was easily twice the man’s size. He could probably
kill him with his bare hands, particularly after all those days
spent boxing at Gentleman Jackson’s.

She had to put a stop to it. Right
this instant.

Aurora pushed her way through a crowd
that seemed to be moving in the opposite direction. Even though she
was somewhat tall for a lady, many of the men still towered above
her, and she couldn’t see how much further she had to
go.

“
Come with me,” Quin ground
out.

Oh, dear good Lord. He sounded
positively murderous. No matter how large or small the previous
scandals swirling around the two of them had been, no matter how
truthful or filled with lies they may have been, there would be no
stemming the flow of damage if Quin murdered a man in front of a
ballroom full of people. In his own home, no less.

She couldn’t let that happen. She had
to talk some sense into him. Surely this could all be resolved in a
civilized manner.

Just when she thought she was finally
making some headway in coming through the crowd, it shifted
directions. Now, they were surging her forward, almost like she was
caught in the tide and being pulled out to sea.

The front doors were open and wave
upon wave of people unfurled out into the open night air. Having
the murder take place outside instead of inside would do nothing to
quell the rumor-mill, as long as the crowd did not
disperse.

“
I am an invited guest,”
Lord Griffin shouted over the din of murmurs. “This is how you
would treat me?”

Aurora continued to push through the
crush of bodies in an attempt to see what was happening. She
finally reached a point where, looking between the shoulders of the
two gentlemen in front of her, she could see Quin and Lady Phoebe,
and on occasion Lord Griffin, though he was moving around quite a
bit in the midst of the circle.

“
No one invited you,” Quin
spat out. “Neither my wife nor I would ever
invite
you to do anything. Save
perhaps go straight to the devil without looking back. Not after
what you’ve done.” He was right, of course. Aurora hadn’t invited
them. But how could Quin know anything of what Griffin had done?
She’d never mentioned a name, not even when her husband had begged
of her to do so.

Griffin brandished a scrap of foolscap
and thrust it toward Quin. “Have a look at it yourself. You’ll
clearly see that you are wrong.”

Quin took the paper and frowned. As he
read its contents, however, his frown turned to the sternest scowl
Aurora had ever seen upon his face. He turned to the crowd and
bellowed, “Rotheby! Explain yourself, you arse.”

Gracious. This could not be good. What
did Lord Rotheby have to do with anything? Oh, how she wished her
husband would stop cursing so very much. There were ladies
present—rather young ones, for that matter.

The crowd behind her shoved forward
again, and Lord Rotheby’s voice came through the muddled whispers
and gasps. “Let me by. I am a very old man, and I am not above
using this cane as a weapon.” When he passed Aurora, he turned to
her and winked—surely he had and it wasn’t simply a figment of her
imagination—before continuing through the crowd.

What was his ruse?