The Kiss (31 page)

He came up behind her but did not touch her. She could feel a hint of the warmth of his body radiating along her back.

"Will you, then? Will you promise to care for her if I die?"

"What about Grace? If you marry her, she would be Fairleigh's stepmother."

"You know it would be a marriage of convenience. The child of a former wife might not be something Grace would wish for should I die. I hate the idea of my beautiful daughter being considered a burden. I want her to feel love every day of her life." He touched her waist gently and kissed the top of her head. "Grace will most likely bear her own children. And no matter how many times you suggest she would never show preferential treatment to children of her own body, you will not convince me. You have said you will never marry... although I am wondering if perhaps this revelation changes things in your mind. I'm sorry to have hurt you. It was never my intention." He rested his hands on her shoulders. "Georgiana, it's obvious my cousin loved you deeply. There was no ulterior motive to his love for you. It was pure. But perhaps you will reconsider Miles now that you know the truth."

She thought she just might be ill, and was grateful he could not see her face. "Miles is a good friend. But I will never marry him." She followed the path of a flock of swallows soaring inland. "And I've always known the flaws in Anthony's character. I just hadn't realized they were as terrible as the rumors from town suggested at the time. I married him despite his faults just as he married me despite mine. And no, don't try to be kind and say I don't have any. We all have faults. But as you said, Anthony loved me without an ulterior motive—as I loved him. I'm only sorry— horribly sorry—for what he did to you. It was unforgivable," she whispered.

"Well, then, will you answer my question?" He turned her so she was facing him, her back now to the sea. "You are the only one who would love Fairleigh as much as I do."

"I love her already." She held her hands behind her back to stop herself from reaching for him. "I would consider her the daughter of my heart."

He kissed the top of her head and she felt it all the way down to her boots.

And in Quinn's heart?

Well...

Her words still echoed in his mind.

"Anthony loved me ...as I loved him."

Chapter 16

It was amazing what money could do very quickly when it was offered in nearly obscene amounts, Quinn thought, while gazing at the gleaming panes of the enormous greenhouse now winging out from the south side of Trehallow. A swarm of workers crawled over the last remaining details of the beautiful addition.

He turned to the far north and with great satisfaction watched another group of men hammering in the distance at the last of the two revitalized barns and new falcon mews. A brood of raptors would bring Georgiana much delight.

"Confound it," Luc St. Aubyn muttered as he walked up to him from the direction of the stable. "And how precisely am I to explain away all this new construction to Georgiana? You said it was a
small
greenhouse. This looks like bloody Versailles." The two gentlemen began a tour of the property, walking toward the barns.

"I'm certain, with your superior way with words, you'll find a suitable explanation."

"I've about stretched the limits of my imagination, Ellesmere," Helston said. "Her father's hangdog, knowing eyes are upon me already to such a degree I'm afraid I will confess everything in a moment of weakness. He's like a damned Catholic priest."

"Actually, I think it's pretty fair." Quinn smiled. "If I have to face Brown's annoying looks each time I hand him a new demand for payment, I don't see why you shouldn't have to face Mr. Wilde. If you remember, you were the one who sent Mr. Brown to me—
and
your grandmother—
and
the other beauties in her club."

Luc sputtered. "I don't know what you're talking about. I did you a favor."

"A convenient favor." A few moments later they entered the new mews, empty of falcons still. Quinn wasn't sure yet how he would acquire the raptors. It would take time.

"And what is this?" Helston asked with no small amount of disgust. "An enormous chicken coop? I'll never be able to account for it."

"It's for birds of prey. Georgiana is fond of them."

The duke shook his head and muttered something about "complete pushovers" while he marched past him. They made their way to the adjacent barn, which was wholly completed.

At the entry something touched Quinn's boot and he looked down to find a marmalade-colored cat rubbing against his ankles.

"I see you've even acquired a barn cat," Helston said, biting back a smile.

The cat began purring.

"No." Quinn sneezed. "I don't like cats."

"Well, my friend, it appears the feeling is not entirely mutual." Luc bit back a smile. "At least a cat will be easier to explain than if you had ordered a stable full of horses and a pasture full of oxen."

"The animals arrive tomorrow."

Luc shook his head and uttered an oath.

The cat stretched up to find Quinn's hand and when he leaned down, it practically jumped into his arms. Its purr was like a tiger's.

"By the by," Quinn said, "perhaps now would be a good time to warn you that your grandmother has been seen trying to pick the lock to my carriage house."

"I told you that under no circumstances was she allowed to be near any set of reins."

"No. You said that under no circumstance was she to be allowed access to a horse."

"I warn you, Ellesmere—"

"Quinn."

Luc St. Aubyn stared at him for a long moment before using his Christian name. "Quinn ... I won't pay for any damages to your bloody carriages. After all I've done for you—"

"Agreed," Quinn interrupted, and then suppressed a smile. "You know, I was wrong about you."

Luc blinked. "I beg your pardon?"

"Georgiana said you were a great man."

"Georgiana's observations are always brilliantly spot-on."

Quinn tried not to laugh. "But she was wrong in your case."

Luc raised his looking glass to his eye.

"You're not a great man. You are one of the
greatest
men . . . no, the greatest
friend
I have had the honor to know."

Helston's discomfort was palpable, which pleased Quinn enormously.

"Well..." Luc said, "this is very inconvenient."

"Why?"

"It's so much more amusing to hate you."

"Perhaps," Quinn admitted, holding back his laughter.

"But then," Luc said thoughtfully, "I'd be willing to consider friendship if it will take up less of my time."

"That's doubtful. One always has to watch a friend even more closely than an enemy, don't you think?" Quinn pushed back the memory of his friendship with Anthony as a young boy. He took a step forward and Luc held up his hands to keep space between them.

"You're not going to try and embrace me, are you?" Luc's eyes were black with horror. "Well, it would explain your idiotic actions toward Georgiana." Luc barked with laughter and moved to slap him so hard on the back that Quinn almost lost his balance.

"You know," Quinn said, slapping Luc's back even more soundly, sending the duke sprawling forward into a pile of wood shavings. "I do believe I preferred you as an enemy."

"Too late," Luc said, regaining his feet and brushing his breeches.

"Well, then, perhaps we should continue the tour." Quinn crossed the length of the empty barn and went out into the sunshine. Beyond the stand of trees in the distance, three dozen men labored with shovels.

Luc came up beside him—and whistled. "Good Lord. What have you done?"

"The estate needed a body of water. It will be just a pond. Or ... maybe a very small lake."

"You've lost your mind." He waved his arms at the barn, the greenhouse, the lake. "This is absolute insanity. It'll cost you a bloody fortune."

He ignored him and pointed to the center of the pit. "There's to be a small island, too. All this is a much smaller version of Loe Pool."

The duke rolled his eyes. "Well, it's time for your lecture. I promised Rosamunde I would lecture you. And it's the least I can do, for a
friend."

"Don't bother. I'm certain I've already had this conversation with Mr. Brown at least ten times in the last ten days."

Luc arched a brow and ignored him. "Now then. How are you going to extricate everyone from this absurd situation? Start with Grace Sheffey, if you please."

"For God's sake. Don't you know she's still in love with her husband?"

"Grace? Grace Sheffey never loved the Earl of Sheffield," Luc said.

"No.
Georgiana.
Georgiana will never remarry. She's made her wishes very clear."

"I thought we were going to discuss Grace. You do realize that if we're going to be friends, you'll have to be able to take direction from me."

Quinn rubbed his forehead in exasperation.

"Oh, all right." Luc waved his arm. "Start with Georgiana. She's the one you want anyway. But don't think I'm allowing you out of your obligation regarding Grace. If she still wants you, I'll tie you up with a pretty ribbon on top and present you to her on a platter with an apple in your mouth."

Quinn turned on his heel toward the great house and Luc followed him.

"You're wrong." Quinn finally replied. "I do not want to marry Georgiana. I want her to be happy, to live out her life very comfortably—in a place that will remind her of everything she has known. But I do not want to live the rest of my life with a woman who is in love with my
estimable
cousin." He'd be damned if he'd explain his interactions with his blasted relation. And he just couldn't abide the thought of lying next to a woman who would be dreaming of Anthony For-tesque—and worse, feeling pity for a man who had been a cuckold.

"Brownie was right. You
are
a bigger fool than I ever was. If you're not willing to have her any way you can get her, then you deserve all the misery you're headed for . . . and more." Luc shook his head. "Anthony Fortesque is
dead,
you ass."