side legs. From that day on, Noelle Copeland rode astride.
The weeks passed. No sooner had the gossip from one episode died down than another reared its tantalizing head. There was even a rumor that Quinn Copeland was supporting a group of urchins in one of London's most disreputable tenements. Drawing rooms buzzed, dinner tables sparkled. Never in recent memory had a season been so entertaining.
In Northridge Square, however, things were not quite so gay. Except in public, Quinn and Noelle saw little of each other. Most nights he would escort her home only to leave her at the door. In the morning Noelle would awaken to find the covers on his bed undisturbed. He made no attempt to explain his absences, and she asked no questions about them.
There was one matter, however, about which she did question him, and that was the future. Surely he did not intend their farcical marriage to go on much longer? But no matter how hard she pressed, he refused to commit himself. She could not understand his perversity, especially since she was certain that he chafed to be away from Northridge Square and all that life there entailed.
Something else puzzled her. Last October, shortly after Quinn had reappeared in her life, Simon had told her that his son had accepted a position with a firm of shipbuilders in New York City. If that were true, what was holding him here now? And why had he and Simon, despite the animosity between them, been closeting themselves in the library with ledgers and stacks of files?
She still had not mended her tattered relationship with her father-in-law, so she could not ask him about Quinn's plans. There was always Constance, but Noelle found one excuse after another to postpone discussing the problem with her. Finally she admitted to herself that she was afraid of what she might hear, for there was always the horrifying possibility that Quinn was actually planning to take her with him.
In December, Simon left for the continent, and Noelle found herself missing his booming orders to the servants, the way his laughter filled the house when his friends came to call, and, unreasonably, the sense of security his presence seemed to give her. Even Constance could not help dispel Noelle's loneliness, for she too had left the city.
It was another departure, however, that had a more immediate effect on Noelle's life. Her sleek figure swathed in black silk, Anna von Furst was seen abruptly leaving London one morning. The next day, the newspapers announced that the Baron Otto von Furst had died in a hunting accident in Bavaria.
More frequently now, after the dinner parties and balls and assemblies were over, Quinn and Noelle would climb the stairs to their bedroom together. Whenever it happened, Noelle's heart would thump frantically. Was this going to be the night Quinn would try to open the door that separated them?
It became more and more difficult to repress the memory of the time in Yorkshire when he had made love to her. As if reading her thoughts, Quinn would stalk her with scowling eyes, but he made no attempt to touch her. They snapped at each other over trifles. Noelle was sharp with the servants. Quinn got into a fight at the faro table. Things could not go on as they were much longer.
Chapter Twenty-eight
Ever since the gentlemen had finished their cigars and brandy and joined the ladies in the drawing room, Hugo Meade, the Marquis of Blystone, had been pressing his thigh hard against hers. Noelle barely noticed. Not even Quinn's grim scowl from across the room could penetrate her good humor. Just when she thought she could not bear living another day with him, everything had changed.
It happened so unexpectedly. Tonight, on the way to their third dinner party of the week, Quinn had abruptly announced he was going to leave London in two days to assume permanent control of the Cape Crosse shipyard. Noelle, he declared, would stay here. He had set up a generous bank account for her so she could purchase her own residence and maintain her current style of living. Although there could be no divorce, they would no longer be together.
Noelle's heart sang. She was finally to be free of him!
The marquis's pressure on her thigh had become so relentless that Noelle was recalled to the present. With a shock, she realized he had been murmuring endearments to her.
'… adoration for you. All evening your beauty has sparkled like the finest wine waiting to be sampled by a true connoisseur.'
'Really, Lord Blystone, you should not say such things.' The arm of the sofa pushed up against her other thigh as she tried vainly to move away from him.
'Don't pretend with me,' he pursued. 'I know you return my passion. We must arrange to be alone so I can show you how much I love you.'
Before she could snatch them away, he had caught up her fingers and brought them to his lips.
'Get your hands off my wife, before I break them.'
The marquis dropped her hand as if it were a viper. Noelle had no idea how long Quinn had been standing behind them listening, but from the menace in his voice, it had been long enough.
'I hate to interrupt such a tender moment, Hugo, but I'm taking my wife home now, and if you so much as look at her again, I'll kill you.' He grabbed Noelle's arm and none too gently pulled her up. With everyone watching them, he propelled her toward the doorway as if she were a disobedient child. Through stiff lips, Noelle thanked her hostess, all the while trying to hide her humiliation.
She kept her silence throughout the short carriage ride home. The unshed words struggled to be released, but she held them back, waiting for the moment when there would be no coachman to overhear her. Quinn did not even glance in her direction. Finally they stood alone in the dimly lit foyer at Northridge Square. As Quinn shut the front door Noelle unbridled her fury.
'How dare you humiliate me like that!'
'Don't push me tonight,' he scowled blackly. 'If you're smart, you'll just get out of my sight.'
'I'll get out of your sight, all right, as soon as I tell you what I think of your manners!'
'I'm warning you, Highness…'
'And I'm warning you! You're a selfish, egotistical, arrogant bastard!'
'And you're a cheap little man-teasing bitch!'
Noelle swung at him then. She drew back her fist and smashed it full force into his jaw. Quinn should have seen it coming. Under other circumstances, he would have. But the unaccustomed jealousy that had been eating away at him all evening like a maggot had dulled his reflexes, and so he caught the full force of her blow.
Noelle sucked in her breath as she realized the folly of what she had done. Dear God, he would kill her! Catching her skirts up above her calves, she flew up the stairs, propelled by her fear.
There was a pounding. She did not know if it was her own heart or his footsteps behind her. Her mind raced. A key? Was there a key in the bedroom lock? She reached the top step, the hallway; her body sensed his presence behind her and, with a desperate lunge, she threw herself toward the door. It seemed a miracle when the knob turned in her hand. She shot inside and pushed against it. The latch caught. She reached for the key, began to turn it…
The door crashed in on her with such force that she was knocked from her feet. The floor underneath her shook as the heavy oak slammed shut. Lying in a pool of spilled satin on the dark rug, she heard the key turn in the lock. There was a whimper-pitiful, like a child's. With a curious detachment, she wondered who was in the room with them, and then realized the sound had come from her own throat.
Quinn loomed over her, one hand balled into a fist at his side.
'You're going to pay for that in the only way you understand.'
Locking his eyes with hers, he raised his hands to his lapels and slowly pulled off his evening coat, flicking it over the chair next to him without changing his position. Then he began unfastening his waistcoat, slipping the jet studs one by one into the palm of his hand. There was no waste in his movements. Each action was deliberate, unhurried, and filled with purposeful menace. He pulled at the knot of his white neckcloth.
'For weeks now I've kept my distance from you. I've paid your bills and let you go on your way. Lately I've been asking myself why. And you know, Highness, I couldn't come up with a good answer.'
Noelle watched with deadly fascination as his shirt slowly parted, revealing the powerfully muscled chest she
