become inured to them. Now, as Simon spoke, she realized how seriously she had misjudged both Simon's persistence and Quinn's resentment. She loved that tiresome boy so. How could he have behaved like such a barbarian? Ever since Benjamin and she had cared for him when he was thirteen and Simon had sent him to school in England, he had held a special place in her heart.
'He raped her,' Simon said as he finished his story. 'Brutally and without compassion.'
Constance felt tears of pity for the bedraggled little pickpocket and for Quinn come to her green eyes. 'Oh, Simon, he would never have behaved so if he hadn't mistaken her for a prostitute.'
'Don't delude yourself. You know he's always been stubborn and high-handed.'
Constance thought of another Copeland man who possessed the same characteristics but wisely kept the observation to herself.
'There is no denying the fact that he has a wildness in his nature that he does not always keep in check,' Simon continued. 'Of course, I doubt that he would have forced himself on her if he hadn't been drunk and mistaken her for a prostitute. But it's still no excuse for what he did. Besides, he certainly wasn't drunk when he delivered her here this morning, along with his resignation from Copeland and Peale.'
'His resignation? Oh, Simon, no.'
Constance's distress was justified, and they both knew it. Quinn's knowledge of ships was encyclopedic. He had a kinship with the raw materials of the industry, the wood and metal; an innate understanding of their strengths and limitations. He never attempted to force a new concept on the materials. Instead, he began with the materials and let the concept grow from them. It was Constance's belief that Quinn's creative imagination combined with Simon's keen business sense could have made Copeland and Peale invulnerable. Now all that was lost.
'He will not find it as easy as he thinks to turn his back on Copeland and Peale,' Simon insisted.
'Where is Quinn now?' Constance asked, more calmly than she felt.
'I have no idea. But he'll turn up eventually, just like a bad penny.'
Constance saw the trenchant pain in Simon's eyes and knew intuitively that his bitterness was directed as much at himself as at the son he couldn't understand.
'And when he does reappear, I plan to have a little surprise waiting for him.'
Constance frowned. 'What kind of surprise?'
It was then that Simon unveiled the desperate plan that had formed itself almost unconsciously in his mind. 'When he returns, he'll have a true Copeland bride waiting for him, ready to take her place in the Copeland family.'
'What on earth are you talking about?' Constance asked, abruptly setting down her glass on a small enameled end table.
'I am talking about the malnourished child in the library. Quinn has seen to it that I cannot have his marriage annulled. She's his legal wife. Therefore, she'll have to become worthy of the name Copeland.'
Looking at him in astonishment, Constance began to laugh. Simon drew his brows together and glowered at her. Although she tried valiantly to suppress her merriment, she was not wholly successful.
'Oh, posh, Simon, don't fly into a temper. It was unkind of me to laugh, and I do apologize, but really, it's too absurd. I begin to fear that you are in your dotage.'
In his dotage, was he? Simon could feel his temper rise. Damnation but she was an exasperating woman! Since the first time they had met when she was a beautiful bride many years younger than her husband, they had been at odds. As the years passed they saw each other only infrequently, but no matter how seldom they met, the sparks continued to fly.
Watching the two of them spar, Benjamin had once smiled fondly at his partner and said, 'Simon,
Simon had shuddered inwardly. There was no denying the fact that Constance was a damned attractive woman, but he preferred women who were more serious, women who were respectful of the opinions of men far more knowledgeable than they. Now he must take pains not to antagonize her. With an effort, he smiled stiffly.
'Why is it so absurd, Constance? You forget that I have spent some time with her. The girl has a natural intelligence that even her shabbiness can't hide. Remember that her father was a member of the nobility.'
'Really, Simon,' Constance cried in exasperation. 'You don't know that for certain.'
'You only have to watch her closely to know it's true,' he exclaimed as he began to pace about the room, trying to convince himself as he convinced her. 'She carries herself proudly. She has dignity, intelligence. All of these things speak of good blood. She only needs some polishing to bring it out.'
'Polishing!' Constance began to feel faintly alarmed; Simon was in earnest. As infuriating as he could be, she did not want to see him made to look ridiculous.
Rising from her chair, she crossed to him in a swish of ebony silk and placed her hand on his arm. She regarded him levelly, her voice grave. 'Not only does she lack any semblance of beauty, but she is undoubtedly woefully ignorant. Why, I doubt that she can even read.'
Simon regarded her stonily. 'It doesn't matter.'
Constance opened her mouth to respond, but Simon would have none of it. 'All of that can be easily remedied, Constance. A tutor can be engaged to teach her how to read and instruct her in the rudiments of geography and history.'
Indignantly Constance remonstrated. 'In faith, Simon, it will take a bit more than teaching her the location of the Baltic Sea and the date of the Battle of Hastings to make her acceptable to society. And if something could be done about her unfortunate appearance, which I heartily doubt, she would still have to be taught to speak properly.'
'She speaks beautifully,' Simon interrupted. 'Much better than would be expected.'
'Regardless, Simon, I'm sure her diction would never pass in the drawing room. She needs to know how to manage a household, play the piano, do needlework, dance a quadrille.' She ticked off each item on her fingers. 'It quite staggers the mind. Even you, Simon, must own that you'd be hard pressed to find a tutor capable of teaching all that. Young women learn so many of these things unconsciously as they watch their mothers.'
'Exactly!' Simon exploded triumphantly. Gently placing his hands on her upper arms, he looked down on her small form. 'Those are the things only a woman of grace and breeding can teach, a woman such as yourself, Constance.'
The spirited widow studied him for several moments as she absorbed his intention and finally declared, 'No, Simon, I will not hear of it.' She took several steps away and turned her back to him. 'I have sometimes found it necessary to disagree with you on business matters, but I have never thought you lacking in common sense. I now begin to wonder.'
Constance's voice was adamant, but if the truth be known, her mind was not yet closed on the matter. Although she would barely admit it even to herself, she was a lonely woman. The last few years, during which she had contended with Benjamin's failing health, had been difficult ones for her. Despite her frivolity, she was still an undeniably sensuous woman, and the celibacy that had become her lot was unnatural to her. Her body had begun to rebel; she ached to be held and caressed. She had even thought of taking a lover, but somehow the idea was repugnant to her, for she knew a casual coupling would not still the longings she felt. Of late, it had become more and more difficult for her to sleep. Perhaps if she had something to fill her days and occupy her mind, her nights would once again be peaceful.
She made her voice deliberately casual. 'Simon, I must own I am curious. Just what is your plan, and how did you intend to include me?'
Simon wished Constance's back were not turned to him so he could see her face. What was she up to? Casually he walked to the settee opposite her and settled himself, carefully watching her face as he spoke.
'I would like you to take her home with you to Sussex. See to it that she has proper clothing and nourishment, and begin to instruct her in deportment. When you think the time is right, hire a qualified tutor for her academic instruction. I know it will take some time, but I have every confidence that within a year she can be transformed into a socially acceptable young woman.'
'A year! Oh, Simon, I fear you overestimate her intelligence and my abilities.' Constance was thoughtful for several moments, and Simon did not attempt to rush her. She walked almost aimlessly about the room, stopping once to straighten a vase. Finally she sat next to Simon on the settee.
