her pain.
It began to rain late in the day, and she hurried back, unwilling to risk being caught again on the moors in a storm. The cottage was warm and dry, but it offered nothing in the way of diversion-no books, no pen and ink. Nothing to distract Noelle from her painful memory of Quinn, bringing her ecstasy such as she had never known, even as he sneered at her.
In the amber glow of a single candle, she lowered herself onto the bed, dropped her head into her arms, and wept.
A loud knocking startled her awake, and stiff with cold, she snapped up in bed, surprised to find sunlight flooding the room. The knocking sounded again. She stumbled to the door, her hand rifling through her mass of uncombed hair.
The coach Quinn had promised was waiting outside, the heads of its team of horses almost invisible behind the steaming clouds of their warm breath in the cold air. On the threshold of the cottage stood a spindly middle-aged woman whose sharp features clearly hallmarked an inquisitive nature.
'Mrs. Copeland?' she queried, taking in Noelle's unusual garb with equanimity.
'Yes.'
'Ah, excellent. We have found you, then, with no difficulties.' She pushed past Noelle into the cottage and deposited a small valise and several dress boxes on the table. 'I'm Edwina Tipton. Your husband, dear Mr. Copeland, made my acquaintance through the rector of our parish and asked me to accompany you back to London.'
'Oh?'
'He instructed me to tell you that your horse will be brought on by a groom. What a charming man!' she twittered, oblivious to the fire in Noelle's eyes. 'I vow, you are certainly the luckiest of women to have such a husband, blessed not only with a most pleasing countenance but a sympathetic nature.'
'I must ask you to enlighten me, Miss Tipton,' Noelle said coldly. 'How did you learn of my husband's sympathetic nature?'
The woman looked startled. 'Why, when he told me of your condition, of course. Dear Mr. Copeland felt it necessary to confide in me. He gave me every assurance that your fits were only temporary and that under no circumstances was I to permit you to dwell on your current instability.'
'Fits!' Noelle sputtered with outrage. 'Why, that despicable…'
'Now, now, Mrs. Copeland. We mustn't upset ourself.'
She pulled the lid off one of the boxes on the table. 'Here, just look what I've brought you. We have a superb dressmaker, originally from London, of course. Dear Mr. Copeland purchased these clothes to replace those you destroyed during one of your little… spells.' She did not seem to hear Noelle's muffled growl as she opened one box after another, extracting a hat, shoes, two dresses, even hairpins. 'Unfortunate, of course, to have thrown your- entire trousseau on the fire, but, then, the more unpleasant aspect of matrimony is certain to produce some strange behavior in any sensitively reared bride.'
Just at that moment, Miss Tipton pulled out undergarments so intimately revealing that even she blanched. She dropped them as if the very act of touching anything so seductive would compromise her.
For the first time in days Noelle smiled and then commented wickedly, 'As you can clearly see, my husband has animal appetites.'
But Miss Tipton was not so easily daunted. 'Nonsense, my dear! Your husband is a wonderful man who cares for you. I'll fix some tea while you dress, and then we'll be off. I know it is your fondest wish to be reunited quickly with dear Mr. Copeland.'
'It is my fondest wish, Miss Tipton, that dear Mr. Copeland's soul will rot in hell.'
Other than a brief sympathetic glance, Noelle's companion ignored her remark and resumed her bright prattle, a practice she was to continue throughout the long journey back to London. When the outer limits of that city finally came into view, Noelle breathed a silent prayer of thanksgiving, for she knew that another day of hearing about 'dear Mr. Copeland' would have sent her leaping across the carriage to throttle her traveling companion.
Chapter Twenty-five
Simon was tired when he reached Northridge Square. He had been away for several days, trying to track down a rumor that the Royal Navy was preparing to commission three new frigates. It had been an unsatisfactory trip, aggravated by his worry about Noelle. Quinn's curt note, delivered by messenger the morning that they disappeared almost three weeks ago, had done little to relieve his anxiety. He knew his son too well to have any illusions about how Quinn would react to the deception.
The trip from which he was returning had come at an unfortunate time. There had been too many hours alone in his carriage with only his own thoughts for company, and he did not particularly like what he was finding out about himself.
'Good evening, sir,' Tomkins said as he opened the front door for his employer. 'I trust you had a pleasant journey.'
'Damned unpleasant, as a matter of fact. Has there been any word from my son yet?'
'Yes, sir. Mr. Copeland returned two days ago.'
'He did, did he? I want to see him right away.'
'Certainly, sir. He's in the drawing room.'
Simon gave his hat and coat to Tomkins and went to find his son. As the door opened Quinn looked up lazily from the copy of the
'Welcome back, Simon.'
'Where's Noelle?'
'Not even a 'hello'?'
'Is she upstairs?'
Quinn set down his newspaper. 'She's not here.'
'Damn it, Quinn! Don't play games with me. If you've hurt her…'
'You'll what? Don't forget that she's my wife, Simon. Thanks to you I can do what I want with her.'
With a sigh, Simon slumped down into a chair near the window.
'You don't like that, do you?' Quinn taunted. 'It's what you wanted all along, but now that you have your victory, it doesn't mean much, does it?' He picked up a glass of brandy from the table next to his chair and swirled it slowly in his glass. When he spoke, his words were low and accusing. 'Why is that, Simon? Is it because your feelings about your son's wife aren't fatherly at all? Was it really a deception when you both let me think she was your mistress, or had you been sleeping with her all along?'
'You bastard!' Simon exclaimed, leaping up from his chair. 'You should know the answer to that better than anyone. After what you did to her the night you married her, she could barely stand to be in the same room with a man, let alone have one touch her.'
'But I'll bet you tried, didn't you?' Quinn said, and even he did not know whether the bitterness in his voice was directed at himself or at his father.
'No, Quinn, I didn't.'
The two men were silent for several minutes, and then Quinn spoke. 'I'm afraid I did Noelle an injustice. I was too quick to blame this whole scheme on her. I can see that she didn't have to do much persuading to convince you to fall in with her ideas.'
'I was the one who did the persuading, not she. It was my plan. Neither Noelle nor Constance wanted to go along with it.'
Quinn laughed sardonically. 'Constance, I'll believe. But it's useless to try to shield Noelle. I know her calculating nature too well.'
'I'm beginning to realize you don't know her at all. In spite of the life she was leading, Noelle was a sensitive young girl when you found her, and she still is.'
'Spare me your lectures, Simon, and pour yourself a brandy. I have something else to discuss with you.'
'First tell me if Noelle is all right.'
