Page 27 of When the Scoundrel Sins

But he couldn’t be the man to help her reach it.

His chums at the clubs would have thought him daft to pass up this opportunity, given the terms that Belle had proposed…a share of the profits and the freedom to go on with his new life in America exactly as planned, fulfilling the promises he’d made to his father and Asa Jeffers. Any less scrupulous man would have immediately flung her over his shoulder and marched straight to Gretna Green to get his hands on everything she’d offered. And to get his hands onher.

But Quinn would never use her like that. Nor would he ever abandon his wife.

His eyes wandered over Belle as she climbed up the hill in front of him, unwittingly giving him a delectable view of her round derriere, made even more visible by the men’s trousers.

He bit back a groan. Being an honorable man was beginning to lose its appeal.

As he followed her up the hill, the trees and bushes gave way to a clearing, and in the center stood the old ruins of Castle Glenarvon rising in a jumble of fallen stones and half-tumbled walls. But he could easily see the outline of what had once been a sturdy keep, with some of the ramparts still capping the tops of the remaining walls, which stood over two stories high in the far corner where they met. The rise gave breathtaking views of the river and glen to the west and the cloud-covered mountains to the north, while the ruins gave a sense of history and romance. As his eyes swept over the horizon, he realized why Annabelle loved this place so much.

And why she would hate him when he refused to marry her.

She sat on one of the stones and patted her hand on the rock beside her in invitation for him to join her. Fresh guilt clawed at his gut.

“Isn’t the castle marvelous?” She smiled at him as he sat beside her. “I laugh every time I think about those wealthy lords to the south who are paying small fortunes to create follies in their gardens when our ruins are better than anything Capability Brown could ever have envisioned.”

An uncomfortable silence fell over them as they gazed together at the ruins. Then he leaned forward with his elbows resting on his thighs, his hands clasped between this knees.

He said quietly, “I can’t marry you.”

She stiffened but otherwise didn’t move. Didn’t deign to look at him, only kept her gaze straight ahead at the estate spreading out before them. But Quinn felt the change in her, as her petite body turned as hard as the cold rock beneath him. And surely so did whatever small feelings of friendship she might have still carried for him.

“I’m on my way to America,” he explained when she said nothing. That cold silence was more accusatory than he’d thought possible. “I’ve been waiting for this opportunity for four years.”

Longer, if he were honest. The thought of striking out to America had been with him since that summer after he was graduated from Oxford, when he realized that the life of an English peer’s son was not for him. Richard Carlisle had been supportive of the idea from the start, and Quinn had been determined to do exactly that and make his father proud of him.

“I want property of my own, a chance to prove myself apart from the title and the Carlisle name,” he explained, sharing with her what he’d never told anyone else. Not even Robert. “No matter what success I find here, people will claim it was only because of Trent, only because I’m a Carlisle, and not because of any hard work or smart decisions I make. There’s no way to escape Trent’s influence without leaving the country.”

And no other way to fulfill his promise to his father.

“I’m not asking you to give up that dream,” she said quietly, finally breaking her silence yet still not looking at him. “You can still go to America and—”

“I will not abandon my wife,” he stated firmly. He might be a scoundrel who was well on his way to being a rake, but he had that much honor, at least.

She said nothing, her gaze fixed on the horizon.

“This is my chance to make my own future, Annabelle.” Surely, she understood that. “I have no way to do that in England. Land is too expensive here.”

“Not if you marry into it,” she countered in a whisper.

“It wouldn’t be my land,” he said quietly. “It would be yours.” And he would be nothing but a de facto estate agent, this time for his wife instead of his brother.

He didn’t think it was possible, but her body tightened even more, like the tension of a coiling spring. He could feel the emotion pulsating from her as her fingers gripped into the rock beneath her, so hard that her fingertips turned white.

He ran a frustrated hand through his hair. “I’m leaving this morning. As soon as I say good-bye to Aunt Agatha.” And roused Robert from bed, so they could ride on together to the coast. Saying good-bye to his brother would be difficult enough, given how close they were; he didn’t want to do it any sooner than he had to. “If we leave this morning, we can be to Keswick by nightfall.”

“You don’t have to leave so soon,” she countered, seizing on a new line of attack. The hope he heard in her voice nearly undid him. “America’s big. There’s lots of land there for sale. You can buy another property if you lose this one.”

“No, I can’t. It has to be this piece of land.” He stared grimly at his hands, folded between his knees. “It belongs to a family friend. He’s been holding it for me but needs to divest himself of it by the New Year. He made me a good offer if I bought it and let him and his wife remain on the property.” And Quinn had made a promise to do just that. A promise he had every intention of keeping. “They have no one else.”

In the silence that followed, she sat unnaturally still, not even breathing. Then, so softly that the words were barely above a breath on her lips, she whispered, “Ihave no one else.”

Anger pulsed through him, chasing on the heels of a flood of guilt.Damnation.It wasn’t his responsibility to secure her future when he had his own to worry about. Didn’t she realize that?

He jumped down from the rock, then wheeled on her. “This is not my problem to solve.”

Her own anger flared to the surface. “Isn’t it?”