His wife cast him an impatient glance. ‘That will be her husband’s problem, not ours.’
* * *
Quinn scooped up the small pile of letters from his desk and glanced at each one. Nothing from Bruton Street.
‘Confound it, what do you expect?’ he growled to himself as he threw the letters back down.
It was nearly two weeks since Hambridge had carried Serena away from Melham Court, but the fellow was unlikely to write and thank him for his part in rescuing his ward and it would be highly improper for Serena to do so. Discretion was the watchword and it would be foolhardy for any mention of the matter to be committed to paper.
He reached for a pen and began to trim the nib. He should forget all about it. After all, he wanted no thanks for what he had done. But the image of Serena haunted his dreams. Not the cowering figure he had come upon at the Swan, but Serena as he had seen her in the gardens of Grindlesham House, head up, eyes sparkling with indignation. The same eyes that had gazed upon him so trustingly as he coaxed her from her bath.
His hands stilled at the memory. He had subdued the thought at the time, but she had reminded him of a painting he had seen as a very young man: another Titian Venus, but this time the goddess was rising from the sea. Shy, vulnerable and utterly enchanting.
Quinn shifted in his chair. Enough of this. He had no interest in Serena Russington. She had foolishly put herself in danger and he had acted as any gentleman would, nothing more. The Hambridges would look after her and quell any gossip, so there was no point in Quinn worrying about the chit. But he was damned if he could forget her!
He heard voices in the hall and the study door opened.
‘Tony!’ Quinn jumped up and came around the desk, holding out his hand to his friend. ‘I thought you were staying in town for another month at least.’
‘That had been my intention. Lottie remains in town—she has engagements that she cannot break, but I confess my curiosity got the better of me.’ Sir Anthony Beckford gestured towards his buckskins and glossy Hessians. ‘I am on my way now to Prior’s Holt, but thought I would stop off and try some of the claret you were boasting of.’
‘By all means. Come along to the drawing room and I will have Dunnock fetch some.’
In very little time they were sitting comfortably, a decanter on the small table between them and a glass of ruby-red wine in hand.
Quinn watched in amusement as his friend made a show of sniffing the wine and taking a sip before nodding appreciatively.
‘Excellent. This came in through Bristol, you say? I must put my man on to it.’
‘Send him to Averys and they will see to it.’ Quinn shot a glance at his friend. ‘But you did not come here merely to taste my wine. What is it that has whetted your curiosity?’
‘Why you, my friend.’ Tony lifted his glass to the light and twisted the stem between his fingers. ‘I came to discover for myself if you have taken a mistress.’
The calm atmosphere of the drawing room became suddenly tense. Quinn schooled his expression into one of amusement.
‘What an absurd idea. You know I am not in the petticoat line.’
‘That is what I thought, but the rumours in town made me wonder.’
Quinn put down his glass. The way his hand had been tightening around it he was afraid he might snap the stem.
‘Then perhaps you would be good enough to tell me just what it is that you have heard.’
‘I was at White’s a couple of nights back and Walsham came in. You may not know him. Something of a mushroom, but with connections enough to give him entrée into most places in town. He strolls up to Hambridge and asks after his sister. Now, in general such a remark would pass unnoticed, but a sudden hush fell over the room, and Hambridge looked so put out there was no ignoring it.’ Tony settled himself more comfortably in his chair. ‘Walsham did not leave it there, however. He pulls out his snuff box and says, in the coolest way imaginable, “Your good lady told me I was mistaken in thinking Miss Russington was at the Swan and it must be so, because Jack Downing says she cried off from Vauxhall that very same evening, pleading ill health. I trust it is not serious, no one’s seen her for well over a week.” Well, by this time Hambridge is frowning like a thundercloud. He jumped to his feet, exclaiming that he had no patience with all the tattling busybodies who try to make mischief out of nothing. Then he stalked off. Quite out of character, I thought. He is generally such a dull dog.’
‘And this is all?’ Quinn refilled their glasses. ‘My dear Tony, I am surprised at you, to be taking note of such a trifle.’
‘And I should not have thought any more about it, had I not gone to Tattersall’s yesterday. You will recall there was a very pretty Arab mare I had my eye on, but that is by the by. I ran into Sir Timothy Forsbrook there, you see. He was selling his greys and mighty cut up about it, too. Blamed it all on a woman who had dashed his hopes. He was in his cups and happy to tell anyone who would listen how the mysterious Miss R. had persuaded him to run away with her on May Day, only to abandon him at Hitchin for a much richer prize.’ Tony’s shoulders lifted a fraction. ‘The richer prize was not named, of course, but I remembered you had travelled to Melham Court that evening, and would have passed the Swan.’ He paused. ‘It made me wonder—’
‘Hell and damnation!’
At Quinn’s violent exclamation Tony’s casual manner deserted him and he sat bolt upright.
‘Never say that there is any truth in this, Quinn!’
‘No. Yes!’ Quinn jumped to his feet. ‘Has anyone else connected me with this affair?’
‘Not yet, although at the clubs last night they were already beginning to link Forsbrook’s juicy tale to Walsham’s gossip. ’Tis commonly believed now that the lady is Serena Russington, Hambridge’s ward.’
Cursing softly, Quinn went over to the window. He said over his shoulder, ‘I stopped at the Swan on my way home. Forsbrook was there and I...er...removed Miss Russington from his company. She was unharmed, save for a few bruises, but it was already gone midnight so I was obliged to bring her here.’ No need to go into detail, Quinn. ‘I put her into Mrs Talbot’s care until the Hambridges could collect her the next day. As for her persuading Forsbrook to elope, I believe it was quite the reverse. He tricked her into accompanying him.’
‘Then why hasn’t Hambridge called him out?’
‘He thought it would cause the sort of scandal he was anxious to avoid.’ Quinn’s jaw tightened. ‘I agreed with him, at the time. I thought Forsbrook would be too embarrassed by what had happened to blab about it. Now I see we were wrong.’ He turned back and looked at his friend. ‘Well there, at least, I will be able to act!’
‘The devil you will. Confound it, Quinn, you are so rarely in town your mere presence there sets the ton by the ears. If you come back to call the fellow out, I won’t be the only one to remember you live within a stone’s throw of Hitchin. No, no, you keep well out of it, my friend. No need to become involved.’
‘I am already involved,’ Quinn reminded him, a trifle grimly. ‘And the devil of it is that Crawshaw met her here, the following morning.’
‘The vicar! That’s a dashed nuisance.’
‘Aye. I had no choice but to introduce him. So far he hasn’t said anything, but...’ Quinn let the words hang and a brooding silence fell over the room.
At last Tony gave a sigh. ‘Well, Crawshaw is a good fellow and not one to gossip. I suppose your servants know the whole?’
‘How could they not? I can rely upon Dunnock and Mrs Talbot to be discreet, but some of the younger ones may let it slip.’
‘And