Page 46 of When the Scoundrel Sins

Quinn thought of the women in his family. Bartleby had never been married to the likes of one of those independent-minded women if he thought succumbing was a natural evolution of marriage.

“You don’t know Miss Greene very well,” Quinn muttered.

Bartleby laughed. “Does any man ever truly know a woman?”

In the past sennight, Quinn had come to know Belle quite well. The woman she’d become was simply amazing.

And one in desperate need of his help.

He reached into his jacket breast pocket and withdrew several bank notes. “I want to hire you, Bartleby.”

The sight of the blunt instantly sobered him. “As I said, sir, I cannot help with—”

“To find a legal loophole in that clause you helped Lord Ainsley write into his will.”

His face paled, but his eyes stayed on the money. “’Fraid it cannot be undone. I wrote it to avoid all loopholes.”

“Divorce,” Quinn bit out.

The man blinked. “Pardon?”

“Divorce is a loophole, isn’t it? If Belle marries a man who agrees to not protest a divorce and contracts the estate into her dower.”

“Well…I…” For once, the solicitor was at a loss for words. “I cannot imagine anyone who wouldwillingly…And—and then the Church, of course…”

“But it is possible,” Quinton pressed. “And she would get to keep Glenarvon.”

Bartleby paled. “Yes, I suppose she would.”

“If that loophole exists, then there must be others.” Quinn placed half the notes onto the middle of the cluttered desk. “Find one.”

“I—I cannot guarantee anything,” he stammered out. “In fact, I doubt I can find—”

“But I’m sure you’ll try.” He set another note on top the stack. “Hard.”

“Of course, sir.”

Quinn nodded toward the money. “Failing that,” he added, putting down another note, “then I want you to find out how to go about buying the estate back from the Church. Who will be responsible for assuming responsibility for it.” Another note. “And how to go about approaching the man to purchase it.” One last note. “Understand?”

“Very well, sir.”

Quinn had no doubt that he did. But as he settled back in his chair and began to return the remaining notes to his jacket pocket, a new concern struck him. “It’s my understanding that Lord Ainsley put in that marriage stipulation in order to protect Annabelle from her father.”

The man hesitated. “From Marcus Greene, yes.”

“Find him.” He placed one last note onto the stack. “I want to know where he is.” Theverylast thing Belle needed right then was for her father to arrive on Glenarvon’s doorstep and cause even more problems for her.

“Yes, sir.” Bartleby reached for the stack of blunt.

Quinn raised his glass to his lips. He wasn’t any more optimistic about finding a solution now than when he’d stalked out of Glenarvon. But at least now the cogs were in motion. And when it came to Annabelle, he would take his victories wherever he could get them.

CHAPTERSEVEN

One Short Week Later

(Only Two Weeks Until Belle’s Birthday)

Belle stepped out of the predawn shadows at the edge of the pond and breathed a long sigh, expelling all the pent-up tension she’d carried on her shoulders for the past two weeks.