Page 61 of When the Scoundrel Sins

Although Robert’s assurances eased Quinn’s suspicions, it didn’t erase them. Still, he knew from experience—and several bloodied noses—not to meddle in his brothers’ affairs. Besides, he had his own troubles to deal with…one particularly stubborn, inexplicably alluring, honey-eyed trouble, to be exact.

“Speaking of Sebastian,” Robert commented as he reached into his breast pocket and retrieved a note. “This arrived for you a few minutes ago from Blackwood Hall.”

His heart lurched into a booming beat as he accepted it. The answer to his proposal to buy Glenarvon. Just in the nick of time, too.

Quinn mumbled his thanks and somehow kept from ripping it open right then. Belle’s last best hope lay inside that note.

“I’m leaving first thing in the morning,” Robert told him. An amused grin spread across his face. “After tonight, our interviewing services won’t be necessary anymore, which Aunt Agatha must surely thank God for.” Then his smile faded, and he tapped his shoulder against Quinn’s. “If you’re going to America, you should leave with me.”

“I want to stay a bit longer, to make certain everything is settled well for Belle.” He’d made a promise to protect her, and he meant to see that through.

“She won’t need your help with that.”

Quinn shook his head. “Contacts and property deeds can be complicated. She’ll need someone to—”

“Quinton.” His older brother fixed him with a steely look. “After tonight, she won’t need you anymore.”

Robert’s words came like a punch to his gut.

Quinn turned his back to Robert, to lean over the balustrade and stare out into the dark garden, until he could regain his breath. He knew tonight was coming, knew she’d decided to take a husband…But down deep, he hadn’t truly been prepared for riding away and leaving her behind.

But what other choice did he have?

Robert asked bluntly, “Do you love her?”

Quinn sucked in a deep, steadying breath to quell the riotous confusion of emotions that had swirled through him since the evening he arrived and saw Belle again, and admitted, “I don’t know.”

With a disappointed shake of his head, Robert stubbed out his cigar on the balustrade, then tossed it away into the dark garden beyond. “Well, you’d better figure it out soon. Because in less than two hours Belle’s going to pledge her life to a man.” He pushed himself away from the railing and walked toward the French doors, sliding a parting glance backward at his brother. “I’d hoped it would be you.”

The doors closed after him, muffling the noise of the party beyond to a low drone.

Quinn squeezed his eyes shut.Damnation.What Robert wanted of him—didn’t his brother realize the impossibility of what he was asking? He had an agreement with Asa Jeffers and his wife, to let them remain on the land where they’d made their home for decades. And he’d promised his father, thevery lastpromise he’d made to him in the days leading up to the accident that claimed his life. How was he expected to break it? And for what reason—a woman? What would Father say to that?

He deserved an opportunity to prove himself, damn it! He’d worked hard and earned this chance for a new life, away from England and all the difficulties that came with being a duke’s son. And a Carlisle. Life would be much easier in America, where no one cared about titles or would say that his success was only due to family connections. Staying here would be more difficult, where everyone doubted him, where failure was expected and success to be credited not to his merits but to his family.

He caught his breath as that realization hit him. Did he really want a life ofeasy? That’s what America would be, compared to England.

A worse thought chilled him—was an easy future what his father had in mind when he encouraged Quinn to leave England? For Christ’s sake, even finding the land to purchase had been done for him, neatly arranged by his father and handed to him like a gift.

If that was what a life in America meant, could Robert be right? Was he better off staying here?

Except that staying here meant having to marry Annabelle. Could he ever let Belle into his heart, or allow himself to enter hers? Because love ended.Always.That was the last lesson his parents’ marriage had taught him, one he’d learned the hard way.

Love…the one thing he promised himself he’d never do.

But he could help her with Glenarvon.

He tore open the message and froze as he scanned Sebastian’s scrawled writing. Then he crushed the note in his hand and threw it to the ground as he turned on his heel to stalk back inside.

***

“Ladies and gentlemen!” Ferguson called out, his head held high and his chest puffed out beneath the garish-colored waistcoat he wore as tonight’s Master of Ceremonies.

Annabelle smiled. She adored him and all the other servants at Glenarvon, and a fresh stab of guilt jarred through her as she thought about what might happen to them in only one short week. Those who weren’t old enough to be pensioned would be moved to other Ainsley properties, and several of them would be making the move to the dower house in London. And her right along with them if she didn’t accept Sir Harold’s offer.

The engagement was expected, of course. All the guests had assumed she would choose him, and Harold, himself, hovered nearby all night. As if the announcement had already been made and the marriage was now fated. All the guests were happy for her.

But she was utterly miserable. Despite all her resolve to avoid a marriage of convenience, one which held no love and might end up as awful as her parents’ marriage, that was exactly where she’d found herself. The irony was bitter.