A/N: Hello, readers! :)
So...no excuses on not updating Sunday. I finished the chapter Sunday morning, but I was just lazy. Anywho...yay, new chapter! lol
Anonymous reviews!
jock - Thanks for the review, as always! :) Haha, yeah, so glad to be back to writing for fun lol. Anywho, I'm glad you're liking Quinn and the Faberry relationship! :) I hope the rest of the story doesn't disappoint. Thanks again for the review, and I hope you like this chapter! :)
This is all so - *Blushes* Thanks so much for the kind words! I don't know if this really is a "perfect" story, and I'm sure there are many out there (myself included) who would say it's not, but your sentiment is duly noted and much appreciated! Talk about inflating my ego lol ;) Of course...now I'm paranoid I'll do something you don't like with the story haha. I guess I'll just do my best and hope you like it! Thanks again for your review! :)
Guest - Thanks for the review! I'm really glad you're liking the story so much so far! I hope the rest doesn't disappoint! :)
So...here continues the story. Enjoy! :)
Locked in Quinn's warm embrace, Rachel felt as though she were floating. One hand held Quinn firmly at the waist while the other caressed her silky smooth cheek and gently pulled the blonde in closer, craving more contact.
Rachel's heart was racing and being this close to the blonde made every fiber of her being come alive, from the top of her head all the way down to her toes, as though electricity flowed through her veins. Quinn's warmth wrapped around her, and the scent of her filled the brunette's nostrils. Quinn smelled of the freshness of soap, with a hint of violets and lavender from her perfume. It made Rachel dizzy, it smelled so good.
Oh, Rachel could get used to kissing her. In fact, she could happily spend the rest of her life testing that very theory. Quinn's breath was sweet; her lips were soft and warm. Rachel's arms snaked around the blonde's neck, so the other girl wouldn't pull away before she was ready to release her. And when Quinn's arms tightened around her, Rachel felt as though they were the only two people in the world.
But they weren't.
"Ra-chel!" It came from a distance, but still too close for comfort.
Blast it all.
Rachel stiffened. Quinn went completely still in her arms. The blonde lifted her head, and Rachel missed the feel of Quinn's lips on hers.
"It's Finn," Quinn whispered, dropping her hands from their places on the brunette.
Rachel nodded. "Must have been a quick game of whist." She lowered her arms to her sides as well. "Shall we hide, or shall we face him?" She was all for hiding.
Quinn smiled. What a beautiful mouth she had! "I think we ought to face him. After all, it might be something important."
Linking arms, they walked in the direction of Finn's voice, his calls growing louder with each step. Finally, they found him by the fountain.
He did not look happy to see them.
"Did you not hear me calling?" he demanded as they leisurely strolled toward him.
"We heard," Quinn replied. "And we came. Now what the devil is the matter that you had to come out here caterwauling like a fishmonger?"
Rachel bit her lip to keep from giggling. Finn had rather sounded like someone calling out for people to buy fish in a market.
Finn's expression darkened. "I have come to fetch Rachel." He turned to her and she struggled to put on a straight face. "Your mother has come down with a sudden and severe megrim and wishes to return home at once. She asked me to find you." He shot an accusatory glance at Quinn.
Megrim, my foot, Rachel thought, mentally rolling her eyes. Her mother rarely suffered from headaches. Most likely her mother and Finn couldn't stand her being alone with Quinn for more than five minutes and had concocted the scheme to separate them. Little did they know that both Rachel and Quinn were well aware of their schemes and wouldn't be fooled.
"Then I will return at once," Rachel replied. There was no reason for her to remain behind—except for Quinn, and she doubted that they would manage to be alone again that evening.
Finn offered his arm with an expectant gaze.
Reluctantly, Rachel pulled her arm free of Quinn's. Finn was still her fiancé, regardless of how confused she was about her feelings. She placed her hand on Finn's forearm and pretended not to notice the smug look he directed at his sister.
As they walked back to the house, Rachel could feel the heat of Quinn's gaze burning into her back. Knowing the blonde was watching her was enough to raise goose bumps on her arms and shoulders. A thrilling shiver raced down her spine.
"Are you cold?" Finn asked.
Rachel shook her head, not trusting her voice at that moment. Cold? Oh no, she wasn't cold. In fact, she was rather warm. Warm with memories of Quinn's arms holding her and how her heart had hammered wildly as the duchess had kissed her. Had it affected Quinn so deeply as well? Rachel was tempted just to turn around and ask her and put an end to this pretending, but she knew it would be a mistake.
Surely Quinn wouldn't kiss her if she didn't care about her? But Finn kissed her sometimes as well, and Rachel didn't know the depths of his feelings either. Oh, what a mess! Caught between two siblings, both so different, and not sure which one was the right one for her.
She cared about Finn, she really did. She just wasn't certain how deeply. She hated thinking that he would deliberately set out to ruin Quinn, but she couldn't deny her suspicions.
And she was coming to care about Quinn. Very much so. In fact, if she wasn't careful, Rachel feared her infatuation with the young duchess would quickly turn into something more. What she felt for the blonde was something wild and uncontrollable. Her knees were like jelly whenever Quinn was near, and her heart pounded like the hooves of a dozen racehorses. Was it love?
The thought startled her. Was she falling in love with Quinn? She couldn't be. Could she? Oh dear, it was certainly going to make a mess of things if she was.
Rachel's mother and father were sitting in the drawing room when they entered the house. Her father sat beside her mother, simply holding her hand. Her mother had a cold compress held to her forehead as she lounged on a green velvet sofa like a woman on the verge of death itself. Only the furious glitter in her eyes revealed her as the actress that she was.
At that moment, Rachel realized how much she had come to dislike her mother.
As they left the room, Rachel was once again on Finn's arm. It was he who took her light shawl from Hummel and placed it around her shoulders. He pressed a chaste kiss against her cheek. It immediately reminded Rachel of the passionate embrace she and Quinn had shared in the garden, and as she gazed into Finn's brown eyes, guilt washed over her.
She had no business kissing Quinn when she was engaged to the blonde's brother. She had betrayed her fiancé's trust—first by going behind his back to warn Quinn of his plans, and second by kissing someone else. She should be heartily ashamed of herself.
But she wasn't. She wasn't nearly as ashamed as she should be.
They said their good-byes, Rachel being careful not to put more into Quinn's than anyone else's. Rachel hated this pretending. She was so worried that she was going to make a mistake, say something she shouldn't. Quinn didn't look nervous at all. In fact, Quinn treated her as though she were nothing more than her brother's betrothed. If Rachel didn't know better, she wouldn't have thought the blonde cared for her at all.
"What the devil were you about, girl, going out into the garden alone with that barbarian?" her mother snapped as soon as they were seated in their carriage and rolling down the lane. "She could have taken advantage of your innocence, or God only knows what else."
Rachel arched a brow. "I see your megrim has miraculously cured itself."
Her mother had the good grace to blush. "Don't change the subject. Do you want to risk ruining everything with the duke?"
"Quinn is the heir, Mama." Lord, but she was getting tired of reminding her mother of that fact!
Shelby scowled. "She most certainly is not! And Finn is going to prove it."
"Oh?" Rachel tried to make her expression as innocent as possible. "And just how does my fiancé plan to do that?"
Her mother clammed up like a miser's purse. "I'm not at liberty to say."
Not at liberty to say? Not at liberty to say! Obviously Finn already harbored some suspicions about her relationship with Quinn if he had sworn her mother to secrecy.
Which raised the question, if Finn didn't trust her, then why did he want to marry her? He certainly didn't need to marry her, unless he was keeping both her and her fortune nearby just in case he couldn't prove Quinn illegitimate. Could he possibly be that greedy? He had enough money of his own without adding hers to it.
Could it be that Finn actually cared about her? Why didn't he tell her? Why didn't he make her feel like Quinn did?
Rachel leaned back against the seat. "Fine," she said as the carriage hit a rut in the road, knocking her teeth together with the impact. "I will just ask Finn what his plan is. Then he will know that you have spoken about it in front of me before."
Her mother's reaction was not what she had hoped for. Shelby's hand whipped out and caught Rachel's upper arm in a viselike grip.
"Ow!" Rachel turned to her father for help, but he was sound asleep in the corner.
"You will do no such thing!" her mother warned, her voice low and trembling. "I will not allow you to ruin all of my hopes."
"Your hopes?" Her mother was cutting off the flow of blood in her arm, but Rachel was too angry to care. "What about my hopes, Mama? Or do you even care what I want?"
The older woman seemed surprised by the question. Her eyes narrowed. "Are you telling me that you have changed your mind about marrying Finn? Because it's a little late for that now, missy. You're going to marry him and that's that."
Oh no, she wasn't! And she was very tempted to tell her mother that too, but somehow Rachel managed to hold her tongue.
"You want to have a duke for a son-in-law so badly that you would resort to threatening your own daughter? What's happened to you, Mama? I used to be more to you than something you could sell to the highest bidder."
Shelby's expression softened, as did her hold on her daughter's arm. Rachel gasped at the rush that tingled through her veins.
"It's because I love you that I want to see you well matched." Shelby pouted. "Is it such a crime for a mother to want to see her daughter married to a peer of the realm?"
Sighing, Rachel shook her head. "I think every mother would like to see her daughter married to someone in the higher ranks of society, but Mama, you're going to ruin someone else's life in order to get it!"
Shelby waved a gloved hand. "Oh, pish. She already has one title; she is certainly not going to miss this one."
"But she'll miss—" Rachel caught herself before she could blurt out "money".
Her mother jumped on it like a cat on a bowl of cream. "She'll miss what?"
"The…the connection to her father," Rachel lied. "The title is all she has to remember him by."
Again her mother was unmoved. "I'm sure Carole would give her a portrait of the late duke, or some other token."
Rachel stared at her mother, aghast. "You really don't care that Finn is planning to ruin her, do you?"
Shelby shrugged. "Why should I? The girl is nothing to me. Besides, Finn is confident that his father was not married to the Scot's mother, so he would only be taking what's rightfully his anyway."
"Does Finn have any proof to support his claim?"
Her mother's lips tightened. "I'm not at liberty to say."
But Rachel hid her smile. Her mother had told her enough. Finn didn't have any proof. Not yet. And he wasn't going to find any, of that she was certain. Quinn's parents had been married, even Carole said so.
So what would Finn do when he learned that? Would he leave Quinn alone?
Or would he try to find another way to destroy his sister?
Finn's door closed with a soft thud. Inside her room, her own door open just enough so that she could see into the hall, Quinn watched as her brother strode down the corridor toward the stairs.
Early as usual. Over the past few days, Quinn had learned that her brother liked to be early for everything—it tended to make others feel bad for keeping him waiting. No doubt Finn would be early for his own funeral if he could manage it.
But tonight, her brother's punctuality would be to Quinn's advantage. She still had a good fifteen minutes before the family was to gather in the drawing room to depart for Lady Markby's ball. It wasn't much, but it would allow her to do a quick search of Finn's rooms before they left.
She crept out the door and jogged down the hall so quietly that even she could barely hear her feet hit the carpet. Finn's door was unlocked and Quinn slipped inside, closing it again behind her.
Finn's room was fastidiously clean. Not even so much as a neckcloth or pair of stockings littered the intricately designed carpet. Not a wrinkle marred the bedspread on the high four-poster bed.
It was unnerving, really. What eighteen-year-old bachelor kept his rooms so tidy? It just wasn't natural. There should at least be a pair of stockings lying about. Then again, Finn seemed to thrive on order. It was hardly normal for a young man that age to be engaged either. Usually men waited until their mid to late twenties before even contemplating the idea. Of course, for a girl like Rachel, Quinn could understand why any man would give up his bachelorhood. She herself would gladly give up being single for a girl like Rachel.
Did Finn love her? Was he capable of such emotion? It was shameful of Quinn to think such uncharitable thoughts of her brother, but she couldn't help it. Finn was not equipped to give Rachel the kind of life she deserved.
And you are? a voice inside her head asked. What are you going to do, take her back to a crumbling castle and hand her a hammer?
Why, yes. If she wished it.
But other than the fact that the brunette responded to her kisses with a passion that matched her own, Quinn had no indication that Rachel harbored any deep feelings for her. True, Rachel had warned her about Finn, but that could be the actions of a guilty conscience. It didn't mean that she would toss Finn aside for her. And it didn't mean Rachel would follow her back to Glenshea either.
Quinn had already sent word home to her grandmother telling her to begin the necessary repairs. She wasn't about to allow Finn to stand in the way of them either. Mr. Chumley had assured her that barring any unforeseeable circumstances, the accounts would soon be changed over into her name.
Which brought her back to why she was in her brother's room to begin with. She had only twelve minutes left.
She crossed the carpet to the desk and began going through papers on the top. Nothing.
She searched the drawers. Nothing there either.
"Come on, Finn," Quinn muttered, closing the last drawer. "Reveal yourself." Only four minutes before she had to meet the others downstairs.
Then she spotted it. The wastepaper basket actually had sheets of parchment in it. Quinn grabbed one and held it up to the lamp so she could read. It was a rough draft of a letter.
Dear Mr. MacCormack:
I am writing to you as the executor of the estate of the late Phillip Pierce, Duke of Brahm…"
Quinn's temper surged. "What a liar!" she seethed. Only her brother would dare write to the clergyman in Quinn's hometown and pretend to be someone else.
It is of utmost importance for the settlement of the late duke's will that I receive a copy of the certificate of marriage between him and one Judith Fabray, believed to have been married by you in September of 1795…."
Believed to have been married? They were married! Quinn had a copy of the certificate herself. Her mother had kept it, right along with a copy of her birth certificate. Finn could have saved himself an awful lot of trouble if he had just asked Quinn to produce proof of her legitimacy.
A door closed down the hall. Startled, Quinn checked her watch. Blast it! She was late.
Smoothing the paper on the desktop, she folded it into a small square and slipped it inside her purse. She might need it later, just in case Finn did manage to stir up trouble.
Quinn was just about to leave when she spotted another slip of paper sticking out of a book on top of Finn's desk. Quickly, carefully, she opened the pages and lifted the parchment to the light.
My Dear Lord Finn. I trust you have not forgotten that I have in my possession your vowels for the amount of £5,000. Please reply in writing as to when you might be able to settle this debt.
A gambling debt? Five thousand pounds was a lot of money to owe someone. And it wasn't the only such letter hidden within the book. There were several others of a similar nature, only the amounts ranged from smaller amounts to one of almost ten thousand pounds—more than most people earned in an entire year. In fact, the total of all of her brother's debts could feed and clothe every one of Quinn's tenants for several years.
So this was why her brother wanted the title so badly. It wasn't purely out of filial devotion. He needed the income that came with it. Lord only knew how many other debts Finn had. Was it possible he couldn't pay them all, even with his generous inheritance? If so, it would certainly explain his increasing animosity toward Quinn.
She tucked the notes back into the book and closed it, making certain it was just the way she had found it. This requires some further investigation, but it shouldn't be too difficult to discover how deeply her brother was in debt.
Quinn checked the clock sitting on the mantle above Finn's fireplace. Blast! If she didn't hurry, someone might very well come looking for her.
She went to the door and opened it a notch. All clear.
Slipping out into the hall, she tugged on her blouse and skirt to get the wrinkles out and strode toward the stairs. She couldn't wait to show Rachel what she had found. Quinn couldn't wait to see her again.
Not a day went by that she didn't think of the brunette. It had been two days since Quinn had last seen her and she had felt the loss painfully. She didn't really care for London and all its hustle and bustle. Rachel had been the bright spot in the entire trip.
So to pass the days, she had spent hours in her father's study, reading over the books for the estates that Quinn now owned. Her mother's money had helped her father become a fantastically wealthy man. Pride had kept Quinn's family from telling Phillip how much their own circumstances had been lowered, and from accepting repayment when it was offered.
There was such a thing as too much pride.
Brittany and Finn were in the drawing room when she entered.
"You're late," Finn remarked, with a glance at his pocket watch. Why was he making such a great show of flashing the watch around? Then Quinn realized the watch had been their father's and Finn wanted her to notice.
"Lovely watch," she remarked.
Finn smiled smugly. "It is, isn't it? It was Father's."
"I know. I have a gold one almost exactly like it at home. He had the date of his marriage to my mother engraved on it." Why she felt the need to make the dig, she wasn't certain. Quinn shouldn't be giving her brother more reasons to despise her, but Quinn couldn't help it. She hated that Finn thought himself so much better than her.
Finn's smiled faded. "We should be going."
"What about your mother?" Carole hadn't joined them yet.
"She's not coming," Brittany informed her with a sad smile. "She said she's not ready to face society just yet. Rachel has agreed to chaperone me in her stead."
Her reply shocked Quinn somewhat—not that Carole didn't feel like going out so soon after the death of her husband, but that Rachel would act as chaperone to Brittany. Why, the two girls were practically the same age! But Rachel was engaged to be married, and that made a difference in the eyes of society.
"And, of course, you will be there to chaperone us all," her sister chirped.
That was even more startling than her previous remark. Quinn was used to looking after her land and tenants, but being responsible for a family was something altogether different. And she was responsible for Carole and Brittany—even Finn. It was her duty.
So what was she going to do with Finn, then? Even more daunting was what to do with the scores of suitors Brittany was sure to attract. They would be coming to her with marriage proposals. How the devil was she supposed to deal with that?
"Quinn? Are you unwell?"
Quinn gazed up into her sister's worried face and smiled. "I'm fine. I just realized that I'm going to have to deal with all the young men who fall madly in love with you. I'm terrified."
Brittany giggled. "Finn will help you. Won't you, Finn?"
Finn's nod was sharp. "Certainly. I won't have you married off to just anyone." His jaw was tight as his challenging gaze met Quinn's.
"We're in perfect agreement," Quinn replied, smiling at Finn's surprise. Quinn wondered for a moment, if it weren't for the title, if it weren't for the all the animosity, if she and her brother might have been friends.
"I've never had a sister," Quinn continued with a warm glance at Brittany. "I fear I'm going to need all the help I can get."
Brittany hugged her arm. "You have no idea."
Quinn laughed.
Clearing his throat, Finn consulted his watch again. "We really must be on our way. I told Rachel we would come for her at quarter past. We're going to be late."
And Finn hated to be late almost as much as he hated clutter, Quinn would bet.
The butler met them in the foyer with their outerwear. Taking her shawl, Quinn thanked the elderly man and waited for her siblings before exiting to the carriage. She told herself it was only polite, but a part of her knew the truth. After finding that letter in Finn's room, she wanted to keep her brother where she could see him.
Rachel had never been more uncomfortable in her life.
The Pierce carriage was large and roomy enough for four average-sized people to sit comfortably, but Finn was bigger than average. He had to remove his hat to keep it from getting crushed against the roof, which was a problem he always had when riding in a closed carriage. He couldn't stretch his legs out because Quinn and Brittany were in the way, and he had to keep his arms tucked in close around him just to give Rachel breathing room.
Obviously he was uncomfortable as well, but Rachel's discomfort stemmed not so much from a lack of room, but from her keen awareness of the woman sitting across from her, and the wish that she was in Brittany's seat instead of sitting next to Finn.
No, if Rachel were sitting next to Quinn it would be impossible to keep from touching her. Perhaps it was just as well, for how could Rachel touch her and still hide her feelings from Finn?
But sitting across from Quinn was no easier. It made it difficult to pay attention to conversation—to anything other than her, if truth be told. Rachel stared at the blonde's shoes, at the flowing light blue silk of her skirt. Skirts and blouses were becoming more and more fashionable evening attire, but only a woman with her title could get away with wearing them at one of Lady Markby's gatherings. The viscountess was very big on old-school formality.
She tried staring at Quinn's chest, to avoid looking at her face, but all she could think about was how soft and warm it had felt beneath her hands that night they had kissed in the garden. Warmth flooded her cheeks and she lifted her gaze.
Quinn was watching her with an expression so intense Rachel found it difficult to breathe.
Oh it was awful, this desperate pounding of her heart, the quickness of her breath. Awful and fierce and oh so very sweet! She both dreaded and looked forward to it. It felt as though a thousand butterflies had been released inside her chest and the feeling made her panicked and overjoyed at the same time.
She opened her mouth to speak, knowing that if they were going to stare at each other they should at least say something so Finn and Brittany wouldn't notice their strange behavior.
"Have you met Lady Markby before, Your Grace?" she asked.
"Yes," Quinn replied in the same bland tone Rachel had used. "I've had that pleasure."
"You won't think it's a pleasure after this evening," Brittany joined in cheerfully. "She will try to have you married to one of her daughters before the night is out."
Rachel swallowed against the lump in her throat. Lady Markby's daughters were lovely, tall blondes with blue eyes and perfect figures—very fashionable. Rachel felt like a tiny, shapeless brown lump next to them.
Quinn had already danced with the youngest at a previous party. She hadn't seemed taken with her, but she wasn't the prettiest of the Markby daughters. The oldest, Kara, was. She wasn't attracted to women in that way, from what Rachel knew, but the brunette knew Quinn's title and inheritance could persuade her to reconsider in this instance. If Kara set her cap for Quinn and batted her big blue eyes at her, would Quinn fall under her spell like every young man seemed to?
Rachel couldn't bear to watch if she did.
Quinn raised a brow. Could the blonde see her anxiety?
"Lady Markby can try, but I believe I still have the final say in whom I marry." Something in her voice made Rachel's entire body flush with warmth. Her fear subsided somewhat.
"The Markby chits are fine-looking girls," Finn remarked. "And their looks are the least of their attributes, sister. They all have fine dowries too."
It was an innocent enough statement, but somehow Finn managed to make it sound like an insult.
"I have no need for more money," Quinn reminded him. Her voice was light, but her eyes were dark with emotion. Her expression was guarded while Finn's was goading. This, Rachel decided, was the difference between an adult and a child. Finn was a child.
He shrugged. "One never has enough money."
Rachel glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, an earlier suspicion returning. She had an impressive dowry as well. Was that her deciding virtue? That she could expand Finn's fortune?
"The only thing a person can never have too much of is common sense," Quinn replied dryly. Finn took the insult as he was meant to and flushed a dark red. Thankfully, he said nothing.
Poor Brittany glanced back and forth between her siblings in confusion. She had no idea what was going on but was very distressed by the situation.
"Why are the two of you being so hateful to each other?" she cried, her eyes filling with tears. "You're supposed to be brother and sister! Papa would hate to see you treating each other so badly."
Quinn's expression was sheepish. Since Quinn was sitting right beside her, she wrapped her left arm around Brittany's shoulders and pulled her against her chest. Finn reached forward and took both of her hands in his. For the first time since Quinn's arrival, the three of them looked like a family. Maybe there was hope for them yet.
Rachel watched in fascination as both Quinn and Finn apologized to Brittany. They fussed over her and teased her at their own expense until she smiled and was happy again. Rachel could only imagine what a difficult time her friend was going through. She had just lost her father, was trying to mourn him in the way he had requested—by not mourning him—and the bad feelings between her siblings would only make that loss worse.
They arrived at Lady Markby's Mayfair address at the same time a dozen other carriages did. The wait to climb out of the carriage and enter the house was longer than the actual drive as they sat in silence as the carriages ahead of them emptied and pulled away.
A footman opened the carriage door and assisted the ladies to the ground with Finn following behind.
The night air was cool and Rachel knew the breeze would be much welcomed as it drifted through Lady Markby's ballroom, especially since the lady had an annoying tendency to pack as many people as she could into her parties. They would be lucky if there was even room to breathe. And with that many people in one room, the odors one breathed weren't always pleasant, even less so when some of society had yet to embrace the fashion of regular bathing.
Quinn escorted Brittany, and Rachel had to pull back on Finn's arm so he would remember his place and allow his sisters to lead the way into the house. Finn seemed to have a hard time remembering that Quinn was the duchess and therefore she went first. Whether his faulty memory was intentional or not, Rachel didn't want to know.
Inside the mansion, footmen took their hats, coats, and shawls, and they made their way up the broad, winding staircase to where the ballroom was.
They were announced, and as heads turned to catch a glimpse of the new Duchess of Brahm, they stepped inside. Rachel felt Finn tense beside her. La, but it must sting to see his sister garner the attention he believed rightfully his.
They entered the ballroom. The chatter rose up like a dull roar around them, matching the sounds of the orchestra, hidden behind swaths of mauve gauze and silk in the far corner of the room. Ladies walked by dressed in the height of fashion, bright splashes of color in contrast to the gentlemen in formal black and white.
"It's beautiful." Brittany gasped, gazing around at the sparkling decorations that reflected the light from the countless chandeliers just as brightly as the glittering diamonds and gems adorning the two hundred guests.
"Not half so lovely as you and Miss Berry, sprite," Quinn replied with a grin. Rachel blushed, even though Quinn's words were meant to be taken lightly.
Finn glanced at her. "Are you all right, darling? You look rather flushed."
Rachel's blush deepened as she realized Quinn heard her brother's question. She had to know that her remark was what made the brunette pinken in the first place.
"I'm f-fine, thank you, Finn. It's a trifle warm in her, isn't it?"
"Would you like me to fetch you some lemonade?"
Rachel made a face. She would rather drink dishwater than Lady Markby's lemonade. It was even worse than that vile stuff they served at Almack's—if such a thing was possible. "No, thank you. I'll be fine."
Some of the concern left his expression, but Finn's gaze was still far more scrutinizing than Rachel liked. "Then you won't take offense if I leave you for a few moments to speak with an acquaintance?"
Offense? She would be glad to see him go, if only for five minutes so that she might collect herself.
"Of course not. Lady Brahm and Brittany will keep me company."
To his credit, Finn's expression didn't change when she referred to his sister by the title he so desperately wanted as his own. "I shall be back shortly. Save me the first waltz."
And then he was gone. And within minutes, a handsome young man came by to ask Quinn's permission to dance with Brittany and was granted his wish, leaving Rachel alone with the woman who had occupied her thoughts constantly for the past two days.
She couldn't think of anything to say, and just staring at the blonde made her feel like an idiot.
"I'm feeling a little overheated myself," Quinn remarked. "Would you care to take a walk to one of the windows, Miss Berry?"
Rachel glanced up. To one of the windows? Yes, that would be lovely. There was hardly anyone along that wall and it would be the most comfortable place to stand. It would also give them some privacy to talk while remaining in plain view of the entire room. Utterly proper behavior. Rachel wouldn't be tempted to let Quinn kiss her in front of a window.
"I would love to, Your Grace. Thank you."
They picked their way through the crowd easily, as everyone stepped out of Quinn's path. Whispers followed them across the room. Some remarked upon how the old duke had kept his daughter a secret. Others commented on how much she looked like her father. A few tittered over how beautiful she was. Rachel wanted to tell them to mind their own business, but she didn't.
When they had arrived safely at their destination, Quinn plucked two glasses of champagne off a passing footman's tray and handed her one. "I'm not much for alcohol," she explained, "but I hear drinking Mrs. Markby's lemonade is akin to taking one's life in one's hands."
Rachel laughed, enjoying the soft breeze that blew in through the open window, tickling the hair on her nape. "You heard correctly." She sipped the champagne. Bubbles tickled her nose.
"I found something tonight that you might find interesting."
Rachel met her gaze, all humor gone. "Oh, what?"
"A letter Finn wrote to the man who married my parents. He told the man he was our father's executor and that he needed a copy of their marriage certificate."
Rachel gasped. She had known what Finn was up to, but even she could not believe he would stoop to such a deception! "What—" She lowered her voice. "What are you going to do?"
Quinn shrugged her shoulders. "Nothing. All Finn is going to receive is proof that my parents were indeed married. I could have given them that. Once he discovers that they were wed, and long before my birth, he will have to give up this silly idea of proving me illegitimate."
She sounded so sure, so confident, but Rachel wasn't so convinced. Her fears from two nights ago came rushing back with frightening intensity. Finn would not give up so easily. She knew him well enough to know that for sure.
"I found out something else as well," Quinn murmured.
Good heavens, as though discovering her own brother wanted to prove her a fraud wasn't enough!
"What?" Rachel was amazed she could even manage to speak. As it was her voice sounded like a door on a rusty hinge.
Quinn steered her away from the window, as though worried someone might actually be on the other side listening.
"My brother has gambling debts. Rather large debts."
Rachel knew she shouldn't be surprised, but she was. Her blood turned to ice water in her veins. She knew it. She knew there had to be another reason why Finn was in such a hurry to marry her. She knew there had to be more to it than affection, and now she was fairly certain that her fortune was a big part of it. What kind of trouble was Finn in?
A shiver ran down her spine when she thought of some of the stories she had heard about men on the verge of financial ruin—or "dun territory," as many of the ton referred to it.
"Be careful, Quinn," she said softly, laying a tentative hand on her sleeve. "If Finn truly is deeply in debt, he might become desperate." And desperate men did desperate things to achieve their goals.
Quinn smiled, a smile that made her heart ache. "Rachel, he can't do anything. Trust me."
Rachel nodded. She could do that. She could trust Quinn if not her own fiancé.
Outside, in the cool night air, Finn Pierce stood deep in the shadows near an open window. An inch of ash clung to the tip of the cigar he had forgotten about the minute he had heard his name, spoken in his sister's voice, float out the window toward him.
Too bad they had moved away from the window. He hadn't been able to hear their entire conversation. But he had heard some of it, and that was enough.
So Quinn had gone snooping, had she? Finn would have to be more careful in the future. As soon as he returned home, he would destroy the other letters in the wastebin of his room. He would destroy any others he did not send from now on as well.
He wasn't all that surprised that his sister was suspicious of him. As much as Finn hated it, they were related. It only made sense that they would have some kind of understanding of each other. Quinn knew Finn resented her, just as Finn knew Quinn had fallen in love with Rachel. No one else seemed to notice, but to Finn, it was as plain as porridge. Quinn wanted Rachel as badly as Finn needed the title.
As for Rachel, he supposed her duplicity would hurt more if he actually loved her, but instead her lack of loyalty only made him angry—and sad. He would have thought better of her, that she wouldn't fall for a pair of bright eyes and an accent quite so easily. It hardly mattered, however. He needed Rachel. He needed her fortune if he was going to pay his debts and maintain his lifestyle.
He hadn't meant for the situation to slip so far out of his control. He never set out to lose so much money; he just kept playing, hoping his luck would get better. There was always the chance that he might win and so he kept betting—on horses, dogs, boxy, anything. Sometimes he won, but when he lost…
He wouldn't be in this mess if not for his father's betrayal. Finn had spent his entire life expecting to be duke. Everyone expected it—especially his creditors. They were more than willing to let him run up vast bills for boots and coats and trousers when they thought he was going to inherit the title. Now they weren't so keen on extending his bills. Now they wanted money. He had even gone to a moneylender to borrow enough to keep the vultures happy. Now he needed even more money to pay the lender's high interest.
His inheritance from his father would pay them, but it would leave him nothing to live off of. That was why he needed to marry Rachel. With her dowry and a share of her father's business he would be able to continue living in the style he required. He would save his reputation and keep the moneylenders from coming after their pound of flesh.
He and Rachel's mother had an agreement. Rachel would marry him and there was very little Quinn could do about that. Finn didn't doubt Rachel would do as she was expected. She was a good girl, if naïve. All he had to do was spend some more time with her, charm her a bit, and her heart would be his again.
But what to do about his sister? There was no way Quinn deserved that title more than he did. Just because she was the oldest did not mean she was cut out to be the Duchess of Brahm. Finn had been preparing his whole life to be the duke and no…no stranger was going to take it away from him.
But first things first. He would have to destroy all the evidence of what he had been up to. And then he would have to think of a new plan.
A new plan to get rid of his sister.
A/N: Dunn, duuuunnnn, duuuuuuuunnnnnnnnnnnnn! Oh, no! Darn that dastardly Finn! What is he going to do? "Get rid of his sister" how? Will Quinn (and Rachel) be safe? Find out next time! :)
I hope you guys liked this chapter :) I'll be back with chapter 8 as soon as I can! Bye! :D