The Drycrofts’ reception rooms were filling up when Quinn and Serena arrived, fashionably late. Serena was already acquainted with Lady Drycroft, a plump, kindly soul but an inveterate chatterbox. She was beaming as they came up the stairs towards her.
‘Serena—Lady Quinn, I should say, how delightful you look, my dear, that watered silk is charming, quite charming, and the colour! What do they call that, my love, old rose? Yes, I thought so. My dear, I have never seen you looking so well. And how is your dear brother? No, not Lord Hambridge, for dear Dorothea writes to me regularly and I know they are going on very well in Worthing. No, I mean the other one. Russington. Such a rogue, but a charming one. And his lady, how is she? She has recently been brought to bed, I hear. Do give her my regards when you write.’
The purple ostrich feathers in her turban nodded as she turned to Quinn, eyeing him a little warily as he bowed over her hand.
‘How delightful that you could join us, my lord.’ Serena did not miss the doubtful note in the lady’s voice. ‘I do hope you will enjoy our little soirée. My husband has set up cards in the small salon over there, if that is your pleasure. Not that you are obliged to leave the ballroom, of course. After all, dancing is the reason for a ball, is it not?’ She gave a nervous little laugh. ‘No, no, you are not to be thinking for one moment that we are wishing you otherwhere. You will want to dance with your wife, which is quite natural, and another gentleman is always welcome, is that not so, Lady Quinn?’
She continued to chatter, offering to come now and introduce Serena to new partners if his lordship wished to go off and play cards, or indeed to present suitable dancing partners to Lord Quinn, if that was his desire. Serena’s lips twitched when she glanced at her husband. His features were schooled into a look of indifference, but she was sufficiently well acquainted with him now to recognise the impatience, nay, horror, growing within him as he listened to his hostess. However, he said nothing and Serena took pity upon him. As soon as their hostess drew breath she broke in.
‘Thank you, ma’am, but there is no need for you to quit your post, for I see more guests arriving. I know we must appear very unfashionable, but I would much rather have Lord Quinn with me on my first social outing in town since...since my marriage. If you will excuse us, we shall go and find our way about.’
With a smile she led Quinn away.
‘What a gabster,’ he muttered. ‘I do not know how Drycroft can tolerate such a chatterbox.’
‘I believe he spends a deal of time at his club,’ Serena murmured.
‘No doubt he sleeps there, too. If I had to face such a chinwagger over breakfast, I would cheerfully throttle her!’
She choked back a laugh. ‘No, no, she is perfectly good-natured and I am sure if she knew her chatter irritated you she would be quiet.’
‘I would not wager on it,’ he muttered darkly.
He led her into the ballroom where the first dances had just ended. A liveried servant announced them in stentorian accents and the chatter died quite away as all eyes turned towards the door.
Serena recognised many of the guests. Hostesses who had welcomed her, gentlemen she had danced with, debutantes and their mothers who had been eager to count the popular Miss Russington among their friends. Now their faces displayed either disapproval or curiosity. Even those matrons she had seen at the Beckfords’ ball regarded her with more open hostility than they had shown in Hertfordshire. One young lady, Beatrice Pinhoe, smiled at Serena, until her mother nudged her and muttered something that made Beatrice flush and drop the hand she had raised in greeting.
Only pride prevented Serena from turning and running from the room. Pride and Quinn’s presence beside her. His elbow was pressing her arm tight against him, so that she was unable to remove her hand from his sleeve. Not that she wished to do so. She was grateful for his support, it wrapped about her like a shield and gave her the strength to keep her smile in place, to raise her head a little higher and meet the cold stares with at least the appearance of complaisance.
A portly gentleman with bushy side whiskers and claret-coloured cheeks pushed his way through the crowd. He came towards them, saying jovially, ‘Quinn, my lady. This is a surprise. Didn’t expect to see you here, my lord. Thought you’d be at Melham, delighting in that Titian you stole from under my nose!’
‘Instead I am delighting in the company of my new bride,’ replied Quinn calmly. ‘My dear, let me present the Earl of Dineley to you.’
Quinn’s voice and the faint squeeze he gave her fingers dragged Serena’s attention away from the censorious looks and she managed to curtsy without wobbling. The momentary hush that had fallen over the room ended. People were chattering again and attention had moved back towards the dance floor, where the musicians were tuning up for another country dance.
‘Delightful, quite delightful,’ declared Lord Dineley, taking her hand. ‘I am very glad now that I decided not to leave town just yet.’ He winked at Quinn. ‘If I had a nabbed me a beautiful young wife I, too, would want to show her off. In fact, I have a mind to claim her for the next dance—’
His grip on her fingers tightened. Panic flared as Serena wondered how she could refuse without offending the Earl. In the past she would easily have dealt with the situation. Indeed, she had done so dozens of times, but now her brain refused to work.
Quinn rescued her, saying coolly, ‘In that case, Dineley, I should be obliged to call you out. I mean to dance with my wife myself.’
‘What? Oh, quite. Quite so, sir.’
The Earl’s face registered surprise and disappointment but he gave in with good grace and stepped aside. With a nod, Quinn led Serena towards the dance floor.
Relief made her want to giggle. She murmured, ‘I did not expect such aplomb from you, my lord. I am all astonishment.’
‘Did you think I would relinquish you to that old roué? We are here to restore your reputation, madam, not destroy it completely.’
Serena winced inwardly as they took up their places in the set. She wanted to cry at his harsh words. Instead she kept her head up and her smile in place as the dance began. She skipped forward, put her hand out to her partner.
‘Forgive me,’ he muttered, pulling her closer. ‘It seems my new-found aplomb does not extend to those I hold most dear.’
Serena’s step faltered and only by the most strenuous effort did she keep dancing. Had he really said that? Had she heard him correctly? A swift glance up at his unsmiling countenance gave her no clue, but all the same she felt the nerves ease. As they progressed through the familiar movements her smile became genuine and she began to enjoy herself.
* * *
Quinn danced the first two dances with his wife, after which the Grindleshams came up to congratulate them upon their marriage and Lord Grindlesham carried Serena off to dance with him. Quinn would have preferred to remain as a spectator, but he knew his duty and solicited Lady Grindlesham to join him on the dance floor. That seemed to give the lead to other couples to approach and although Quinn did not dance again he had the felicity of seeing Serena stand up for every dance.
When supper was announced he was waiting to escort her downstairs. Her eyes sparkled as she left the dance floor on the arm of her partner and there was a becoming flush to her cheek. Quinn’s jaw clenched when he saw how the young cub was gazing at Serena and he was obliged to curb his impatience while she thanked the fellow prettily before turning to accompany Quinn out of the ballroom.
‘You appear to be enjoying yourself,’ he remarked.
‘Yes. Yes, I am.’
‘And your last partner looked particularly enamoured.’ Something dark and uncomfortable stirred within him. ‘No doubt he wanted to take you down to supper.’
‘He did, of course, but your dreadful scowls frightened him away.’
She was twinkling up at him and the darkness evaporated like smoke.
* * *
By the time the carriage carried them back to Berkeley Square Serena was exhausted, but happier than she had expected to be. After the initial reserve, very few of the Drycrofts’ guests had kept their distance. She was cynical enough to know that much of this was due to her new position as the bride of one of the richest men in London. They might disapprove of the new Lady Quinn, but they would not cut her acquaintance.
She glanced across the darkened carriage to where she could just make out the black shadow that was Quinn. His renowned incivility had not been evident this evening. She had witnessed first-hand the way some of the guests had fawned over him and would have forgiven him for uttering a sharp set-down. Even when he had been subjected to the inane chatter of ladies who were even more loquacious than their hostess, he had endured it calmly.
‘Thank you, my lord.’
The black shape in the corner shifted.
‘For what?’
‘Oh, for escorting me to the ball, for looking out for me all evening and especially for keeping your temper, when even I found some of the company tiresome in the extreme.’
‘Did you?’ He sounded surprised. ‘You never showed it.’
‘Ah, but I had you beside me for most of the evening, ready to carry me away before I could give vent to my impatience. I am only sorry that you did not enjoy yourself.’
‘Actually, I did enjoy it.’
‘What,’ she teased him, ‘all that toadying and silly chatter?’
‘No, not that, of course not. But I took pleasure in some of the company.’ She saw the flash of white teeth as he grinned. ‘Whenever I wished to escape I could always say I needed to find you. Also, I admit that I enjoyed the music. And dancing with you.’ He stretched out his hand. ‘We make a good team, I think.’
Smiling, she put her hand into his. ‘I am glad you think so, my lord.’
The carriage slowed and Serena recognised the elegant portal of their London house. Quinn handed her out and escorted her into the hall. He gave his hat and gloves to the butler and turned to remove the cloak from Serena’s shoulders. His touch through the thin silk set her nerve ends tingling. Little arrows of heat pierced her body, pooling somewhere deep inside. She wanted to lean against him, to turn and put her arms around him, but Dunnock was hovering nearby and such a display would shock the poor man to the core.
Quinn walked with her to the stairs, his hand resting lightly against her back. She hoped he would escort her up to her room. She hoped he would kiss her. Perhaps it was dancing together, or the wine she had drunk, but every fibre of her body ached for his touch. The thought brought on a little quiver of excitement, of pleasurable anticipation that at last she might truly become his wife. She watched silently as he took one of the bedroom candles from the table and lit it.
‘You must be tired.’ He handed her the candle. ‘Goodnight, my dear.’
With a flicker of a smile and a nod, he turned and strode away to the drawing room.
* * *
‘Damn, damn, damn.’
Quinn shut the drawing room door and leaned against it. He closed his eyes, but all he could see was Serena looking more beautiful than he had ever seen her, with her eyes sparkling and the flawless skin of her shoulders rising from the deep dusk-pink silk gown. Serena dancing at the ball, talking with her acquaintances. Laughing with her partners. Laughing up at him.
By heaven, how much he wanted her, but he had given her his word that he would not make love to her until she was ready. When that lecher Dineley had leered at Serena he had seen the panic in her eyes. The woman she had once been would have laughed it off, sent the fellow on his way, but she had lost her confidence and he had stepped in, carrying her off to dance with him, and thereafter he had kept an eye on her, making sure she danced only with gentlemen who could be trusted not to go beyond the line of what was pleasing.
And his efforts had been rewarded. By the end of the evening she had regained much of her sparkle and self-assurance. That pleased him but it had also roused his desire. He shook his head. Much as he wanted to make love to Serena, he dared not rush her.
Exhaling, he pushed himself away from the door and crossed to the side table to pour himself a brandy. Upstairs was his wife, the most desirable woman in London. And he could not have her.
* * *
The shadows flickered alarmingly as Serena climbed the stairs and halfway up she stopped, blinking to keep the tears from filling her eyes. The evening had been such a pleasure, she and Quinn had been getting on well, but then, when she wanted him to sweep her up and carry her off to his bed, he had walked away!
‘Odious, odious creature, how dare he do that?’
How was he to know what you wanted?
She glanced up into the darkness of the landing above her, then down towards the drawing-room door. Dare she do this?
She breathed deeply, trying to calm her nerves and steady the hand that was carrying the candle, then she turned and went back down the stairs. Dunnock had retired back to the nether regions and the hall was deserted. Serena left her bedroom candlestick on the side table and crossed to the drawing room.
Quinn was lounging in an armchair beside the empty fireplace, his eyes fixed upon the brandy glass cradled in one large hand. The draught of the opening door caused the candles in the room to flicker. Quinn glanced up and Serena found herself subjected to a brooding stare. Not only her body, but her mind froze.
‘I am not tired,’ she managed to say at last, then cringed inwardly. She sounded more like a petulant schoolgirl than a seductress.
Quinn’s brows went up a fraction.
‘I am pleased to hear it.’ He pushed himself out of the chair. ‘Would you care to sit down?’
Well, at least he had not thrown her out. Yet. She closed the door and moved to a sofa, grateful for all those years of deportment training that allowed her to glide across a room even when her legs felt like jelly.
He glanced at the assortment of decanters and glasses arranged on a side table.
‘May I pour you a glass of something. Ratafia, perhaps. Or claret?’
‘Brandy.’ Sir Timothy had tried to intoxicate her with red wine and she wanted no reminders of that now. ‘I will drink a little brandy, if you please.’
‘Very well.’
Quinn poured out a small measure and carried it across to her. He looked wary but intrigued and after handing her the glass he sat down beside her, his large frame filling the satin-covered space. He touched his glass against hers, then settled himself back into the corner, turning slightly so that he might look at her, his free hand resting along the back of the sofa.
A stillness settled over the room, broken only by the occasional flicker of a candle and the rhythmic tick, tick of the French ormolu mantel clock. Serena took a sip from her glass, remembering far-off days when she had smuggled brandy into the school for a midnight feast with her friends. She needed to find a little of that daring spirit now, for Quinn seemed determined to wait for her to break the silence.
‘I enjoyed this evening, my lord,’ she said, running her tongue over her dry lips. ‘I did not want it to end. Not the dancing,’ she added hastily. ‘I mean... I mean us.’
Her eyes were on the glass in her hand, yet she was aware that Quinn’s attention was fixed upon her. She lifted the glass to her lips again, but the heat spreading over her neck and face had nothing to do with the brandy. A little bubble of hysterical laughter escaped her.
‘I am at a loss, my education d-did not include how one should d-discuss these things with one’s husband, but you s-said that when we c-consummate our marriage must be up to me, that it m-must be my decision and I...what I am trying to say...’
The sofa creaked as he sat up suddenly.
‘You are babbling, Serena.’ Gently, he took the glass from her fingers, putting it down beside his on the sofa table behind them.
‘I know, but I am very much afraid that if I do not speak now I will not have the courage again and then it will be too late—’
‘Hush.’ He put a finger to her lips. ‘I understand. I have already told you, there is no hurry.’
He put his arm about her and pulled her close, until her head was resting on his shoulder. He stroked her hair, his large hand surprisingly gentle. Serena relaxed against him with a shuddering sigh.
‘Oh, but there is,’ she muttered, one hand clutching at his lapel. ‘I want it to happen. I want it quite desperately.’
‘Desperately?’ He put his fingers beneath her chin and, obedient to the pressure, she looked up at him. He was smiling. ‘Then let us see what we can do about that.’
He lowered his head, his lips gently brushing hers. She slipped one hand around his neck, pulling him closer. Her lips parted, she was relaxing, melting against him. He shifted his position and pulled her on to his lap while she curled her fingers in his hair. The silky strength of it excited her, as did the complex scent of the man, the smell of his skin mixed with spices and soap, and the taste of him, overlaid with just a hint of brandy. His arms tightened, she could feel the taut muscle of his body pressed against her, but despite the curl of pleasure deep in her core, panic began to gnaw at her.
No. She would not be defeated. She wanted this and would not be denied.
‘Take me, Quinn,’ she muttered against his mouth. ‘Take me now. Quickly!’
The last word was an entreaty. Quinn raised his head. He was still holding her against him and she could feel the frantic thud of his heart. His breathing was rapid and she put a hand up to his cheek, feeling the rough stubble against her palm.
‘I want you to do this, Quinn.’ She was begging, afraid of the insidious terror creeping up on her. ‘Please, before it is too late!’
He stared down at her. Then, as his breathing steadied he put his hand over hers and drew it away from his face. He settled her back on the seat beside him, but kept a firm hold of her hands.
‘Tell me what you mean by that.’
‘I w-want to please you,’ she murmured, looking away from him.
He said gently, ‘This is not how it should be, Serena. There must be pleasure for you, too.’
‘No, no, I have to do this, Quinn. It is my duty, as your wife.’
‘Your duty!’ His grip on her fingers tightened. ‘Duty be damned. If I wanted only my pleasure I could have taken you weeks ago, is that not so?’
She bowed her head. ‘You have been too good, too kind to me, b-but it is no use. I c-cannot enjoy a man’s embrace. I thought I could but...fear engulfs me and...and I w-want to run away.’
She blinked rapidly, but could not prevent a rogue tear dropping on to her lap. Her heart sank. Any moment now he would send her back to her room.
Quinn did indeed release her, but only so he could cradle her face in gentle hands.
‘Let us do this another way,’ he said, wiping her cheeks with his thumbs. ‘You shall tell me what you want me to do.’
A fiery blush burned Serena’s cheeks. ‘I—I cannot. I have no idea. I do not know how...’
She twisted away and sat beside him, her arms crossed as if to shield herself.
Quinn cleared his throat. ‘Very well, let me make a suggestion. I am no rake, Serena, but I know that most ladies like being kissed. You appeared to enjoy that.’
‘Yes,’ she said shyly. ‘I d-did. I do.’
‘Good. Then let us start again.’
He put one arm about her shoulders and kissed her, a long, slow, languorous kiss that melted her bones. When he lifted his head, she remained with her head thrown back against his shoulder.
He smiled down at her. ‘Did that frighten you?’
She gave a little shake of her head.
‘And do you think you might like me to kiss your neck?’
‘I think I might,’ she said cautiously.
‘Good.’ He brushed his lips across hers, then his mouth trailed light, butterfly kisses along her jaw until he reached the spot just below her ear. A little sigh escaped her as he gently nibbled the soft skin. She closed her eyes and tilted her head to one side to give him more room. The caress of his lips was soothing, relaxing. No dark fears stirred within her.
‘How is that?’ he murmured, his tongue flicking over her ear.
‘It is very...pleasant.’ He stopped and she added quickly. ‘I l-like it. Very much.’
‘Excellent.’ She gripped his shoulder as his teeth grazed her earlobe. She snuggled closer, aware of a sudden urge to purr. He breathed softly, ‘Shall we move on a little?’
‘Oh, yes.’ She sighed. ‘If you please.’
He settled her more comfortably against the sofa before his lips moved slowly down the side of her neck in a series of featherlight kisses. She gave a little moan when he reached the hollow between the collarbones.
Quinn raised his head. ‘Do you not like it?’
‘Yes, yes, I do. But I have never felt like this before,’ she said, greatly daring, ‘Could we begin again, perhaps?’
‘Of course.’
This time she returned his kiss, her lips parting, and she eagerly tangled her tongue with his in a sensual dance that left them both breathless. By the time his mouth had worked its way back to the hollow at the base of her throat, she had thrown back her head and her eyes were closed.
‘What would you like me to do next?’ he murmured.
‘Wh-what else do ladies like?’ she gasped, her body arching as he trailed one finger down her breastbone.
‘Let me see if I can remember.’ His finger ran around the neckline of her gown and she shivered with delight. ‘But a word will stop me, do you understand?’
She nodded and he dropped a kiss on her shoulder, then returned his attentions to her mouth. She responded eagerly, tingling beneath the warmth of his palm as his hand slid over her silk gown. When he caressed her breasts, they strained to break free of the confining bodice. His expert kisses made her senses reel as his tongue teased and explored, stirring up the pool of latent desire that was steadily growing deep in her core.
She was dimly aware of his hand moving down over her waist and her hips, then he was gently pulling up the silken skirts, but she was too intent on enjoying his kisses to care, until she felt his hand on her bare thigh. She tensed and immediately Quinn stopped.
‘Would you like this to end now?’
He breathed the words against her cheek and she sighed, her fears melting.
‘No.’
Her reward was another deep, penetrating kiss, made all the more thrilling by the way her body was reacting to his fingers on her thigh. Heat coursed through her, an aching need for more. His hand moved upwards and Quinn continued to caress her, gently brushing over and around the sensitive skin until at last his fingers slid gently into her and she welcomed him with a little moan of pure pleasure. She moved against him restlessly as excitement rippled through her, a trickle at first, but building, like waves pushing against a dam. It was too much. She broke away from his kiss and dragged in a long, gasping breath.
‘Enough?’ Quinn ran his lips over her neck.
‘I d-don’t know.’
His soft laugh sent a shudder of need running through her and she clung to him. His fingers began to work again, stroking, teasing, drawing responses from every nerve in her body until all the attention was fixed on the aching core that was pulsing with a rhythm all of its own. Serena was no longer in control. The dam broke and her body bucked and writhed while Quinn continued his relentless pleasuring, unpenetrating, until she tensed and arched and cried out. Then his large hand cupped her, holding her fast as the last shuddering spasms racked her exhausted body.
Serena clung to him, eyes closed and breathing ragged.
‘There,’ he murmured at last, gently straightening her skirts. ‘Did that frighten you?’
‘Yes.’ She looked up at him in wonder. ‘Yes, but in a good way. I never knew...’
He kissed her nose. ‘I am aware of that. Now, would you like to finish your drink?’
* * *
Serena leaned against Quinn and sipped her brandy. He kept one arm about her, and the comfortable, companionable silence that enveloped them was as unexpected as her reactions to this evening. When she had followed Quinn to the drawing room she had expected a hasty coupling that would satisfy a need, rather than the raw, all-consuming delight she had experienced.
‘I am confused,’ she said slowly. ‘It seems I have taken all the pleasure this evening and not given anything in return.’
‘I wouldn’t say that.’ The smile he gave her sent the blood pounding around her body again.
She looked away, blushing. ‘I w-would like to repay the favour, Quinn.’
‘I shall insist upon it, one day, but not now. You need to rest.’
He stood up and drew her to her feet. She was not sure she could stand, but with his arm to support her they made their way without mishap up the stairs. At her bedroom door they stopped.
‘Goodnight, Serena.’
She clung to him and forced herself to voice the question that was rattling around in her head.
‘Do you n-not w-want me?’
Her eyes searched his face. With a sigh Quinn drew her into his arms and kissed her gently. ‘More than you can ever know, Serena, but there are fears and memories to be expunged. We must take our time.’ He reached behind her and opened the door. ‘Now, off to bed with you.’
More than you can ever know.
Serena hugged the words to her as she allowed Polly to help her into her nightgown and when at last she snuggled beneath the covers, she sank into a deep, contented sleep.
* * *
Quinn was in no very good temper when he allowed Shere to help him into his dark blue evening coat. He had not seen Serena since last night, when she had come to him, wanted him to make love to her, but so very afraid. It had tested him to the limit, demonstrating to her the pleasure of man’s touch while denying himself a similar release.
He wished now that business had not kept him out of the house all day, wished they were not engaged to go to the Beddingtons’ this evening. Damnation, it would be the sort of evening he disliked most. Hot, crowded rooms where one could scarce make oneself heard, the women vying to outshine one another with the latest fashions, men looking for social or financial advancement and all of them eager to share the latest gossip and scandal.
Serena had told him Mrs Downing had called and offered her a place in their carriage, so he need not have gone to all this effort. It was another wet evening and the last thing he wanted was to drive a dozen miles to mix with people he barely knew. He stood pensively before the looking glass as his valet gave his shoulders a final brush. Why the devil had he allowed himself to be sucked into this?
The answer was in his head even before he had finished the question. Serena. She needed him, not only the protection of his name, but his support. It would not be for ever. Once she had regained her confidence he could leave her to attend such parties without him.
‘Will that be all, my lord?’
‘Yes. Thank you.’ He turned away from his own scowling image and took the hat and gloves Shere was holding out to him. ‘Don’t wait up for me—it is likely to be late.’
He strode out of his bedchamber and ran down the stairs, his mood as grim as the weather. Once Serena had recovered, what use would she have for the overlarge, unsociable man she had married?
Serena was waiting for him in the drawing room and the iron fist about his heart tightened at the sight of her. She was wearing another of the new gowns, a glowing emerald shot silk. He was dazzled. Not by the diamonds that winked at her throat and ears, but by her smile, the luminosity of her eyes. He stopped in the doorway, staring at her.
She was more than beautiful—she was radiant. No man would be able to resist her. Would she still need him once she realised that?
‘Will it do?’ she asked, glancing nervously down at the shimmering skirts. ‘The gown arrived less than an hour ago from Mrs Bell.’
He came forward and took her hand. ‘I have never seen you looking better.’
‘Thank you.’ The anxious shadow left her eyes and she twinkled up at him. ‘You must take some of the credit, Quinn. This colour was your choice.’
For the briefest instant he regretted his part in making her look so fine, until it hit him: even in sackcloth and ashes she would be irresistible. She was like a butterfly, emerging from its chrysalis. Once her wings were dry she would want to test them.
‘So it was and a good choice, too.’ He pressed a light kiss upon her fingers and felt them tremble. He might not be able to keep her, but she was his for a little longer yet. ‘The carriage is at the door. Shall we go?’
* * *
Beddington Lodge blazed with light as the carriages drove one by one under the soaring, pedimented portico where the guests might alight, safe from the weather. Serena left Quinn in the marble hall while she went off to the retiring room. As she entered a group of ladies gathered there drew closer together, like a flock of colourful birds alarmed by the presence of an intruder.
Serena handed her cloak to the attendant and sat down to put on her dancing slippers, trying to ignore the murmurings of the other ladies.
‘It’s not that I blame her for marrying a fortune,’ declared one, in a whisper that reached every corner of the room. ‘But ’tis the manner of it. Quite shameless. Sir Timothy was heartbroken when she cast him aside. Not that I condone his behaviour in eloping, but still, he did it in good faith.’
‘Just like her mother,’ said another.
‘At least her mama had the decency to wait until she was widowed,’ tittered a third.
‘Poor Lady Hambridge, no wonder she has retired to the coast. Too ashamed to show her face in town, I suppose. It must be such a blow, to have harboured a viper in one’s bosom.’
‘As I have always said, spare the rod and the child is spoiled.’
‘And her poor husband! Besotted, I suppose...’
Serena straightened, an angry retort upon her lips, but the little group was already disappearing out of the door in a rustle of silk. She should have spoken out as soon as she heard Sir Timothy’s name and denounced him for a scoundrel. Her shoulders sagged as she realised how unlikely the truth would sound. Tears started to her eyes and she hunted for her handkerchief.
‘Serena, are you quite well?’
Elizabeth Downing was approaching with her mother and Lady Grindlesham. Serena made haste to wipe her eyes.
‘We were just coming in as Mrs Pinhoe and her cronies left,’ said Mrs Downing, sitting beside her. ‘We heard something of what they were saying. Have they upset you?’ She patted Serena’s hands.
‘Pay them no attention, my dear,’ declared Lady Grindlesham, hovering around her. ‘They are merely jealous because you have married well.’
‘But Quinn,’ Serena whispered, pulling her handkerchief between her fingers. ‘I had not realised how this must look for him.’
‘Now don’t you worry your head over that,’ returned Lady Grindlesham in hearty accents. ‘Lord Quinn has never cared a jot what is said of him. Come along, my dear, you dry your eyes while Mrs Downing and I change our shoes, then we will all go out together and woe betide anyone I hear making disparaging remarks about you!’
* * *
Serena was grateful for their support and she endeavoured to put the incident out of her mind. Quinn was waiting to escort her into the ballroom and the warm admiration in his gaze did much to restore her confidence. They danced the first two dances together and when their host requested Serena’s hand for the next set, she was pleased to see Quinn stand up with Lady Beddington.
As always, dancing helped Serena to relax. Frosty stares and sly comments were forgotten and by the time she met up with Mrs Downing and her daughter during a break in the music, she felt very much like her old self.
‘I think your fears of the evening have been allayed now, Serena, is that not so?’ said Mrs Downing, twinkling.
‘Yes, thank you, ma’am. Your kindness and that of Lady Grindlesham has done a great deal to help.’
‘Nonsense, my dear, your own good manners and quiet dignity have won over all but the most spiteful of the tattlemongers, I assure you.’
They chatted for a few moments, before Serena excused herself and went off to find her husband. She could not see him in the ballroom and thought he was much more likely to be enjoying a quiet hand of piquet in the card room. She had almost reached the big double doors when someone stepped in front of her and flourished an elaborate bow.
‘Lady Quinn. Your most obedient servant, ma’am.’
Serena stopped, the blood turning to ice in her veins.