There, he had said it. Quinn felt the little hand on his sleeve tremble.
‘It...it is not your place to offer for me,’ she said, her voice constricted. ‘None of this is your fault. You should not be punished for another’s wickedness.’
‘You have a very low opinion of yourself, my dear, if you think it would be a punishment to marry you.’
‘Pray do not joke with me, my lord.’
‘I do not. I say nothing but the truth.’
She shook her head. ‘I thank you for your kind offer, Lord Quinn, but I cannot accept.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because you have no reason to marry me.’
A hiss of exasperation escaped him. ‘Serena, you spent the night in my house.’
‘It was an act of kindness. You rescued me.’
‘That is beside the point. I took you to Melham Court. Mrs Talbot prepared a bed for you, but my entire household is aware you were in my room until dawn. My neighbour was in town and heard the gossip about what occurred at Hitchin and he is already drawing his own conclusions. It is only a matter of time before it becomes public knowledge.’
She waved distractedly. ‘But you do not want to marry me!’
He caught her hands and turned her to face him. ‘I am one-and-thirty and I must marry one day. It may as well be you as anyone.’
A laugh escaped her. ‘When you put it so prettily, my lord, how can I refuse?’
‘Precisely.’ He smiled. ‘I think we shall deal very well together, Serena. You are not unintelligent, you will not expect us to live in each other’s pockets and there is plenty to keep you occupied. I have several properties, some are let, but there is more than one that requires a mistress. Of course, if you would rather not trouble yourself with such things there are housekeepers—’
‘No, no, my lord, I like to be busy and would happily run your houses. That is, if I should accept your offer.’
‘Then what say you, Serena—will you be my wife?’ He saw the troubled look in her eyes and turned away, fixing his attention on a bee hovering around a nearby rose bush. He cleared his throat. ‘If you are worried about the...er...other duties of a wife, I give you my word I will not force myself upon you. We will have separate bedchambers, and I shall respect your wishes on that aspect of our marriage. I shall not touch you without your consent. Until you ask it of me.’
The image flashed into his mind of Serena rising from the bath, her hair curling wildly from the steam and the water running from her naked body. Could he do this? Could he share a house with this woman and not take her to his bed? Easily, he told himself. This was a marriage of expedience, to save his reputation as much as Serena’s. The affections of neither party were engaged.
So why did he feel such disappointment at her next words?
‘I am very grateful of the honour you do me, Lord Quinn, but I cannot accept your offer.’ She withdrew her hands from his clasp. ‘It is not right that you should suffer for the rest of your life on account of my folly.’
‘Suffer? Madam, I do not consider marriage to you a cause of misery. I should count myself honoured to have secured your hand.’ She looked up, her dark, liquid eyes shadowed with doubt. He said, ‘I am not the marrying kind, Serena, but I am a target for the tricks and stratagems of every matchmaking mother in town. I have even been pursued into Hertfordshire, upon occasion. I soon learned that being civil has little effect on determined parents or their daughters.’
‘So you became the rudest man in town,’ she murmured, a faint smile replacing the frown in her eyes.
‘Oh, I was already that,’ he told her. ‘I do not suffer fools gladly and my manner of plain speaking is not to everyone’s taste, but many females are willing to overlook that, to secure a rich husband. There is a novel out at present which is very popular—you may have read it. It begins by asserting that every single man of large fortune must be in want of a wife.’
‘Yes, I know it. But it is love that triumphs in the end. You may yet fall in love, my lord.’
‘No, I assure you that will not happen.’ Quinn paused. ‘I was engaged, once, but the lady died.’
‘I am very sorry.’
He waved a hand, as if to deflect her sympathy. ‘It was a long time ago. The past is gone. We cannot change it.’
‘No, but it can haunt us.’ She twisted her hands together. ‘Perhaps you remember my mother...no?’ She gave a little smile. ‘Then it is only right you know, so you may reconsider offering for me. She caused quite a scandal some dozen years ago when she ran off and married a rich Italian. My father had not been dead many months.’ She gave a little shrug. ‘I barely remember her. The thing is...’ She paused again. ‘I have been told that I am very like her, in looks. And now that I have created a scandal, they will say I am like her in other ways, too.’
‘I do not believe that.’
She flushed. ‘No, I do not think it is true.’
‘Then let us waste no more time on it.’ He waved an impatient hand. ‘Consider this, instead. In marrying me you would gain the protection of my name.’
‘And you would have protection from unscrupulous husband-hunters.’
‘Exactly, madam. So, Serena, what is your answer?’
Quinn thought he should leave, give her time to consider the matter. He was about to suggest as much when a maid came hurrying towards them.
‘Miss Russington, the mistress has asked that you come to the drawing room. Immediately.’
Serena looked at Polly, who shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other.
‘I beg your pardon, ma’am.’ She cast a nervous look towards Lord Quinn. ‘I told her ladyship that you was in the gardens and she said I was to fetch you at once, no excuses.’ Polly dragged in a deep breath, as if steeling herself to continue. ‘She said, ma’am, that if you’re well enough to walk in the gardens then you’re well enough to join her and Lady Newbold, and to look after Master Arthur.’
‘And who the devil might these people be?’ demanded Lord Quinn.
Serena explained. ‘Lady Newbold is my niece, Lady Hambridge’s daughter. Arthur is her son, a grossly indulged infant who cries all the time. Possibly because he is overfed,’ she added thoughtfully. ‘Dorothea will want me to amuse him so she and Althea can talk uninterrupted.’
‘Very much like a spinster aunt with nothing better to do,’ Quinn muttered.
He had voiced her own thoughts and Serena could not quite stifle a sigh.
‘Perhaps you should let me accompany you,’ he suggested. ‘We could inform Lady Hambridge and her daughter that the situation has changed.’ He was regarding her steadily. ‘Well, madam, what do you say. Will you accept my hand in marriage?’
Polly gave a little squeak but Serena ignored it. Could she do this? Could she marry a man she barely knew? She considered the alternative. Months, possibly years of enduring Dorothea’s constant jibes. She and Henry did not really want Serena in their house. Russ and Molly had their own family now. No one needed her. No one wanted her.
She took a breath. ‘Yes, Lord Quinn. Yes, I will marry you.’
* * *
‘Well, I must say, Sister, I never expected to see you settled so well!’
Henry was beaming down at her, but Serena felt none of his delight. It was her wedding day, but the sense of detachment, of sleepwalking through each day, had intensified during the past two weeks. It was as if she was merely an observer, watching a story played out before her. It was not that Serena was unhappy, rather that nothing seemed to touch her.
Dorothea’s shock when Lord Quinn had announced he and Serena were to be married had soon turned to rapture. There had been a brief battle of wills when it was announced they were to be married by special licence in Bruton Street; Lady Hambridge had wanted a big wedding, perhaps in Hanover Square, where they might invite the world to see that Serena was not ruined at all but, on the contrary, making a splendid alliance. However, Dorothea was no match for Lord Quinn, who told her bluntly that the ceremony would be a private one.
‘It will take place here, madam. Or, if you prefer, at Melham Court, with no one but yourselves and my neighbour. Make your choice.’
Dorothea had bridled at that, but Henry had quietly pointed out that, as Serena’s guardian, he felt obliged to stand the expense of her wedding. This hit the right note with his spouse, for the considering look she threw at Serena said clearly that she was in favour of spending as little as possible upon her ungrateful sister-in-law.
Serena herself was silent throughout this interchange. Quinn had asked her earlier, and in private, if she wished her wedding to be a grand affair and she had been emphatic in her denial. She could summon no enthusiasm at all for her forthcoming nuptials. She allowed Dorothea to decide upon her bridal clothes and made no demur when she was informed that, apart from her brother and sister-in-law, the only witnesses to the ceremony would be Lord and Lady Newbold, and Quinn’s neighbours, the Beckfords.
When Quinn had suggested she should invite a friend to support her, Serena had declined. She had lost touch with her friends from the various schools she had attended and since then Miss Downing had become her closest friend. In normal circumstances she would have wanted Elizabeth present, but Serena was too ashamed of the way she had deceived the Downings to invite them. So now here she was on her wedding day, in the drawing room of Bruton Street with only a handful of guests around her and feeling more alone than ever.
Quinn appeared at her side. ‘You are very pale. Serena. Are you feeling faint? Would you like to sit down?’
‘Tush, man, of course she does not wish to sit!’ replied Henry. ‘Serena never faints. She has more energy than the rest of us put together.’
‘Then you must excuse a new husband for being over-protective.’ Quinn took her hand and pulled it on to his arm, holding it there in a warm clasp. ‘If you will excuse us, Hambridge.’
He led her away, muttering under his breath. ‘Damned, insensitive fellow. Does he not know you at all?’
Surprise pierced the grey cloak of indifference wrapped about Serena.
Not as well as you, apparently, my lord.
She said, mildly, ‘He and Dorothea have their own concerns. Pray do not be too critical of them. They have always done their duty by me.’
‘And your other brother has not even made the effort to attend.’
‘Now there you are being unjust,’ she protested, roused briefly from her lethargy. ‘I explained to you that Russ has a new daughter. I wrote to him, expressly forbidding him to leave Molly and the baby at such a time.’
She did not add that it had been necessary to hint at a whirlwind romance between herself and Quinn, to stop Russ posting south.
‘I confess I should have liked them here,’ she murmured.
‘Then we shall call on them as soon as they are receiving visitors.’
‘Thank you, my lord, you are very kind.’
He turned to face her. ‘I am nothing of the sort. It is my duty now to attend to your comfort, Serena.’
Again, she felt a little kick of pleasure that he should think well of her, when she was so undeserving. She glanced up to find him regarding her, a faint smile in his eyes.
‘The spirited lady who upbraided me in the Grindleshams’ rose garden would expect nothing less of her husband.’
A stronger sensation jolted her, making her pulse race and the nerve ends tingle throughout her body.
She shook her head, her cheeks burning. ‘How can you even refer to that meeting, knowing how foolishly, how shamefully I behaved? The creature I was then is quite, quite dead, my lord.’
‘Oh, I hope not.’ Her eyes flew to his face. Had she heard him correctly? He flicked her cheek with a careless finger. ‘Never mind that now. I see my neighbours are eager to congratulate us. Come along.’
He led her towards Sir Anthony and Lady Beckford, who were smiling and nodding at them from the far side of the room. Serena had only been introduced to them that morning, but now Sir Anthony reached out for her hands and lifted one then the other to his lips.
‘Lady Quinn, may I offer you my congratulations?’
‘Nonsense, it is Quinn who is to be congratulated upon winning himself such a lovely bride.’ Lady Beckford bustled her husband out of the way and kissed Serena’s cheek. ‘You cannot know how delighted I am to have you as a neighbour, my dear. I hope we will be welcoming you to Prior’s Holt very soon.’
‘Thank you, my lady.’
‘No, no, we shall not stand on ceremony—you must call me Lottie and I shall call you Serena, if I may? I am sure we shall spend many a happy hour closeted together and complaining about our husbands!’
Sir Anthony protested at that, trying to look severe and telling his wife to behave, but Lottie was irrepressible. She slid one arm about Serena.
‘One always needs a close friend with whom one can grumble without it being taken seriously. Tony, Quinn and his lady must dine with us as soon as possible after the honeymoon. Where are you taking her, Quinn? Now the horrid war is over will you go abroad—Italy, perhaps?’ She paused and looked from Serena to Quinn and back again. ‘You are going away, are you not?’
‘Lottie, pray do not be so inquisitive.’ Tony frowned at his wife. ‘It is none of our business.’
‘It is no secret,’ said Quinn. ‘We spend tonight at Melham Court and tomorrow we set off to tour my estates. Serena must decide which, if any, she wishes to use.’
‘But I thought most of them are let,’ said Lottie.
‘They are, but that is a minor problem, if Serena takes a fancy to one of them.’
Tears stung the back of Serena’s eyes at Quinn’s concern for her wishes.
Dorothea came up, smiling graciously at everyone. ‘Serena, my dear, we have prepared a wedding breakfast for our guests, if you and Lord Quinn would like to lead the way to the dining room?’
He held out his arm. ‘Well, madam wife, shall we go in?’
* * *
Quinn tasted nothing of the light repast laid out for him. Serena, too, he noticed only picked at her food in silence. Thank heaven Tony and Lottie were present to make polite conversation with their hosts and the Newbolds.
Lady Hambridge might have been denied her grand ceremony, but when the time came for Quinn and his bride to leave, she insisted they wait while the servants were marshalled to line the hall for their departure. All the guests spilled out on to the flagway to see them off and Dorothea even went so far as to embrace Serena.
‘I hope you realise your good fortune, madam. Lord Quinn has saved you from shame and disgrace. I pray he will not live to regret it.’
Her words were softly spoken but Quinn heard them. He saw the flush on Serena’s cheek and a flash of irritation ran through him. What a dragon the woman was, to say such a thing to a bride on her wedding day! For Serena’s sake he took polite leave of her family but exchanged warmer farewells with Lottie and Tony before handing his bride into the waiting chaise. As the door closed upon them and they rattled away along the street, he sat back with a sigh. Then he turned his head to look at his new wife, sitting quietly beside him, hands folded in her lap.
‘Well, Serena?’
She gave him a little smile. ‘I am very grateful to you, my lord.’
His brows snapped together. ‘Confound it, madam, I do not want your gratitude.’ She flinched, distress shadowing her dark eyes, and he cursed his harsh tongue and hasty temper. He said more gently, ‘I beg your pardon, I was not always such a brute, but I have lived alone for too long and have forgotten my manners. They will improve, you have my word upon it.’
She was looking down at her hands and he noticed how tightly they were clenched together.
‘I only hope you will not regret marrying me, sir.’
Damn Lady Hambridge for putting that thought in her head!
‘We agreed this marriage was to the advantage of both of us, did we not, madam?’
‘Yes, but—’
He put his fingers to her lips. ‘Hush now. We shall deal extremely well together, my dear, trust me.’
* * *
Serena’s heart skipped a beat. The gesture was gentle, even affectionate, and he was smiling at her, his hazel eyes warm.
‘I do.’ She said again, more strongly, ‘I do trust you, my lord.’
‘Good.’
His fingers slid from her lips and he cupped her cheek. It was an intimate gesture and for an instant she wanted to press against his palm and absorb some of his strength. Her eyelids drooped as something stirred, deep inside: pleasure, anticipation. Desire. She wanted to chase the fleeting sensation, explore and enjoy it, but all too soon it was gone, replaced by a dark and undefined feeling of terror.
Her eyes flew open. Suddenly the air within the carriage was charged with menace. She was back in the candlelit bedroom at the Swan, with Sir Timothy bearing down on her, his hands around her neck. Serena could not help herself, she recoiled, shuddering. Immediately Quinn’s hand dropped. He turned away from her to look out of the window, pointing at an inn sign as it flashed into view.
‘Ah. We are passing Old Mother Red Cap’s. So we are not yet at Highgate. Plenty of time to sleep, if you wish. It has been a busy morning.’
Quinn’s tone was conversational and Serena’s panic subsided. He settled back in his corner and closed his eyes and she drew in a deep, steadying breath. He had told her he would not force his attentions upon her and he was keeping his word. She felt a sudden rush of gratitude. Rufus Quinn might be known as the rudest man in London, but to her he had shown nothing but kindness.
* * *
The steady rocking of the carriage was soothing, but Serena was too on edge to sleep. However, she no longer dreaded their arrival at Melham Court. There would inevitably be some gossip, for the servants knew of her previous visit, but for the first time she thought that with Quinn’s support it would not be so very bad.
In another example of his thoughtfulness, he had ordered the coachman to avoid Hitchin. The new route was slightly longer and the road a little rougher, but Serena was glad they would not pass the Swan and revive those terrifying memories.
* * *
She was not sure if Quinn was really sleeping, but he kept to his corner with his eyes closed until they were on the final approach to Melham Court, when he sat up and stretched.
‘The house should be in sight by now,’ he told her, glancing out of the window. He gave a little bark of laughter. ‘And my people have gone out of their way to welcome you. Look.’
Leaning forward, Serena peered through the glass as the carriage bowled around the last, sweeping curve and she saw that the bridge and the arch of the gatehouse had been decorated with flowers and gaily coloured ribbons which fluttered in the breeze.
The team did not check as they rattled across the bridge and through the arch into the courtyard, where the servants were all waiting to greet them. Serena spotted Meggy, the serving girl who had looked after her on her first visit, and also Polly, who was now her full-time maid. Henry had agreed to Polly leaving his employ and she had travelled to Melham Court earlier that morning, along with Serena’s baggage.
Unlike the staff of Hambridge House, who had lined the hall in solemn silence to see them off, Lord Quinn’s servants were milling around the courtyard, laughing and cheering as the carriage came to a halt. More ribbons and flowers adorned the courtyard, hanging from the upper windows and forming a decorative arch around the open door, where the housekeeper and butler were waiting. Quinn jumped down and turned back to give Serena his hand.
‘Welcome to your new home, Lady Quinn.’
Serena had made up her mind that, however hard it might be, she would look cheerful upon her arrival at Melham Court, but in the event it was no effort at all. The delight of the servants was infectious and, with her hand tucked snugly into the crook of Quinn’s arm, she went with him into the house. The butler and Mrs Talbot fell back before them and there was no doubting that their smiles and words of welcome were genuine.
The newlyweds were ushered into the drawing room where Mrs Talbot bustled about them, pointing out the cakes and wine on a side table for their delectation and asking in the same breath if Lady Quinn would like to rest before taking refreshments.
Serena smiled. ‘My lord’s carriage is so comfortable I am not at all fatigued, I assure you. A little wine would be very welcome, I think.’
She untied the strings of her cloak and immediately Quinn was behind her, lifting it from her shoulders. He handed it to Mrs Talbot to take away before going across to the table to pour two glasses of wine.
‘You were anxious about your reception here, I believe.’ He handed her a glass. ‘I hope this relieves your mind. Believe me, it is none of my doing.’
‘I am reassured, thank you.’ She took a sip of the wine. It was rich and fruity, and would no doubt make her light-headed if she drank too much of it. She put it down on the mantelshelf. ‘I hope the welcome will be as warm at all your houses.’
‘At the first of them it will be, I am sure of it, because we travel to my hunting lodge in Leicestershire. As to the properties which are let, Johnson, my steward, has written to request that we may call, but I have made it clear we will be staying at local hostelries. In the main they are very good and we shall not be uncomfortable.’ He emptied his glass and went back to the table to put it down. ‘I told Johnson to bespeak separate bedchambers for us at every stop. And here, too, you have your own rooms.’
Quinn’s broad back was towards her and Serena had no indication of his mood. The thought that he was happy with the arrangement, that he did not want her, was strangely dispiriting, even though the idea of consummating their marriage filled her with a blind panic.
She said carefully, ‘If that is your wish, my lord.’
‘No, but it is yours, I believe.’
His blunt honesty disarmed her and she hung her head. She was staring at the floor when his feet appeared within her view. He put his fingers beneath her chin and tilted it up until she was looking into his face. She felt dwarfed by his presence. He towered over her, blocking her view of everything save his broad shoulders in their covering of superfine broadcloth.
He was so close that she could see the exquisite tailoring of his coat and appreciate the fine linen of his shirt and neckcloth. She thought she could even detect the fresh smell of clean linen and a hint of spicy soap on his skin. When she had first seen him this morning his brown hair had been brushed back, but now it hung over his brow, too long to be fashionable but giving his rugged features a boyish look.
‘I told you I should not press you,’ he said, holding her gaze. ‘You shall come to me when you are ready and not before.’
She gave a tremulous smile and did not move as he slowly lowered his head towards her. She froze, waiting for the black, blinding terror, but it did not come. His fingers pushed her chin a little higher and, nervously, she ran her tongue over her lips. His head was too close now for her eyes to focus and she closed them. She felt his mouth brush hers, fleeting and light as a butterfly. It was over in an instant, but the sensations that shot through her body startled her. A white heat that made her want to grab him and drag his mouth back to hers. To lose herself in his kiss.
Slowly her eyes opened. Quinn had raised his head but he was watching her, his gaze more intense, as if he was looking into her soul. When he removed his hand from her chin she felt unsteady, as if she was standing on the edge of a cliff, ready to topple. Quickly she took a step back.
‘I... I should change for dinner.’ Another step, but instead of feeling safer as she moved away she felt the panic growing. She fluttered a hand. ‘N-no need to ring for the housekeeper, I will find her, or someone...’
And with that she turned and fled.
* * *
Quinn did not move until she was gone. Then he raised one fist and placed the back of it against his mouth. He could still taste her sweetness, still feel the soft cushion of her lips against his. She had not shuddered. Had not pulled away from him.
‘Well,’ he said to the empty room. ‘That’s progress, I suppose.’
* * *
It was late July before Quinn brought Serena back to Hertfordshire. Within days of their return, Charlotte Beckford sent them an invitation to dine at Prior’s Holt.
‘I hope you do not object that you are the only guests,’ said Lottie, when she welcomed them into the elegant drawing room. ‘After such a long time traipsing around the country I thought you might like a quiet little dinner.’
‘Yes, thank you.’ Serena perched on the edge of a sofa. ‘We dined with several of Quinn’s tenants during our travels, but it was all rather formal. They were very much aware that he is their landlord.’
‘And did you visit all your estates, even Northumberland?’ asked Tony. ‘That must have been a gruelling schedule.’
‘No.’ Quinn carried two glasses of wine over to the sofa and took a seat beside Serena. ‘We only went as far north as Leicester before going to Devon, then on to Sussex, where we took the opportunity to stop a few nights in Worthing.’
‘Worthing!’ Tony exclaimed. ‘What in heaven’s name took you there?’
‘You forget, my dear,’ said Lottie, a laugh trembling in her voice. ‘The Hambridges were going to Worthing directly after the wedding and with Redlands being only ten miles away, it would have looked odd if they had not called in.’
‘Aye, it would,’ Quinn agreed. ‘They are there with the Newbolds.’
Serena did not miss the horrified look that passed between Tony and his wife.
‘And, you stayed with them?’
Quinn shook his head. ‘I had already contacted an old friend who was delighted to put us up. I do not think my wife was too unhappy with the arrangement.’
He glanced at Serena, his eyes warm with amusement, and she could not but smile in response. The days spent in Sussex had been the most interesting and enjoyable of the whole tour. Redlands, Quinn’s Sussex property, was a grand Palladian mansion, much used for entertaining by Quinn’s parents, but he had leased it to a rich nabob who had returned from India with a large fortune and ambitions to match. Ten minutes in his tenant’s company had shown Serena why Quinn had advised they refuse the invitation to stay at the house and instead they had been the guests of Dr Young and his wife, Eliza.
It was not long before Serena realised that her husband’s friend was the celebrated polymath, Thomas Young. The doctor was quite delighted when Serena told him she knew of his work on decipherment of Egyptian hieroglyphs, and more specifically the Rosetta Stone, and when the gentlemen joined the ladies in the drawing room each evening their discussions ranged widely, from medicine, physics and Egyptology to Dr Young’s thoughts on tuning musical instruments and his abhorrence of slavery.
‘A visit to Henry and Dorothea was unavoidable, since we were in the area,’ Serena said now, ‘but I was very glad we were not obliged to stay with them.’
‘Aye,’ added Quinn, with feeling. ‘One dinner in their company was quite sufficient. However, Serena assures me her other brother, Russ, is a very different character. He and his family live in the north. Yorkshire, I believe. We will visit them on our way to the Northumberland house. I want to show Serena the coalmines.’
‘Coal!’ Lottie pulled a face.
‘They are very lucrative, even if they are not beautiful,’ remarked Tony, laughing at his wife’s look of distaste. ‘However, visiting properties ranging from Devon to Leicestershire and Sussex in six weeks is no mean feat. You must be completely fatigued, Lady Quinn.’
That had been the point of it, thought Serena. Travelling the breadth of the country, driving about each of the estates, meeting tenants, talking to stewards and local villagers. There had been no time or energy for dalliance. Her husband had been attentive and friendly, dinners had been companionable enough, but every night Serena left Quinn alone with his brandy and retired to her room. Mostly she fell into a deep, dreamless sleep of exhaustion, but some nights her slumbers were disturbed by dark, terrifying nightmares: Sir Timothy ripping her clothes, pressing hot, brandy-fumed kisses upon her, dragging her back from the window when she shrieked for someone to help her.
‘Scream if you wish,’ he had jeered, throwing her down on the bed. ‘Do you think anyone can hear you? Do you think anyone cares?’
‘And what did you think of the other houses, Lady Quinn?’ Serena jumped as Lady Beckford addressed her. ‘Are you going to turn out any of the tenants?’
‘Lottie!’
‘What have I said?’ She raised her brows at her husband. ‘Is that not what Quinn told us he would do, if Serena wanted to live in one of them?’
Quinn laughed. ‘I did, but you need not fear for my tenants just yet. We have the hunting lodge in Leicestershire and my wife tells me she is not enamoured of any of the other properties.’
‘They are all very fine,’ put in Serena, ‘but most are very large. I prefer Melham Court and I agree with Quinn—it is better that the properties are occupied rather than standing empty for most of the year.’
‘Well I for one am very relieved to hear it,’ Lottie told her. ‘I think we are going to be very good friends, Serena!’