Page 33 of When the Scoundrel Sins

“Wonderful,” he repeated stiffly. He didn’t give a damn about family histories when what mattered was Belle’s happiness.

“Lord Quinton is the third son of the late Duke of Trent,” she continued, turning to Bletchley. Then sadly shook her head. “You know the lot of younger sons. So he is leaving for America to start a life for himself there.”

Quinn stared at her, dumbfounded. Did Aunt Agatha realize the unintended insult she’d just leveled against him?

But of course she did. The question now was why she’d done it.

“Yes,” Quinn forced out, his smile never wavering as he pretended her comment didn’t sting, “in the Carolinas. I plan on buying land there.”

“Tobacco?” Sir Harold asked, amusement touching his lips that Quinn hoped to be what most English gentlemen considered nothing more than a glorified farmer.

“Rice and indigo, actually.” He’d been working the numbers for the past four years and knew the best use of his money was to invest in those two crops. And not just in the profit from growing them but also in their storage, shipment, and trade, which was why he was fortunate that the land was so close to Charleston. With the help of Asa Jeffers, he could be both landowner and businessman. His father would be proud of the man he planned to become.

“You’ll have slaves, then.” Bletchley’s words emerged as an arrogant sneer.

Hell no.Yet Quinn only shrugged. “No more so than any English landowner whose indebted tenants can never be free of the manor.”

A strangled sound escaped from Aunt Agatha’s throat.

But Bletchley only laughed. “Then you’ll do well in America, with the rest of the colonists who detest us Englishmen. I only hope you don’t find yourself being detested as well.”

Oh, he was certain of that. Yet he grinned broadly, just to irritate Bletchley. “I’ll take my chances.”

A soft knock sounded at the door. “Excuse me, my lady.” Ferguson stepped into the room. “But Cook would like a word with you. She says it is an urgent matter with the ovens, ma’am.”

She hesitated with a glance between the two men, as if wary to leave them alone together, then sighed, realizing she had no choice unless she wanted to risk burning the house down. “If you gentlemen will excuse me.”

She scurried out with Ferguson on her heels. An awkward silence fell over the room.

Quinn’s eyes narrowed as he sized up Bletchley. So this was Belle’s leading prospect for marriage.

No wonder she preferred to remain unmarried.

But Aunt Agatha had said she wanted Quinn’s help to keep Belle safe from unsatisfactory suitors. Well, then, no time like the present to start.

He leveled his gaze hard on Bletchley. “You expect to marry Annabelle.”

“Yes.”

“What are you plans, then?” He folded his arms over his chest.

Bletchley smiled at that. “So you’re her guard dog now?”

Knowing not to rise to the bait, Quinn said nothing as Bletchley went to the tea tray on the table and poured himself a fresh cup.

“Oh, you can be confident that I have lots of plans,” Bletchley assured him. “The first thing we do is knock down the existing fences to enlarge the pastures and merge the flocks. Then, with the extra money on Glenarvon’s books, we’ll buy a herd of Highland cattle to graze on the slopes to the north.” Bletchley gestured with this teacup between sips. “Close up the shearing and dairy barns on Glenarvon and double the size of the ones at Kinnybroch, renegotiate all the tenant leases and grazing rights.” He glanced disdainfully around the room. “And let out this tired place, if I can find anyone daft enough to take it.”

Quinn noticed that he never mentioned Belle. Not once. His intentions were purely mercenary. Just as Belle feared. “And the villagers?”

Bletchley blinked, surprised at that question. “What about them?”

“What plans do you have to help them?”

“Helpthe villagers?” Bletchley laughed as if it were the most absurd thing he’d ever heard, nearly spilling his tea.

Good God, this man was a completely wrong match for Belle. In every way.

“My concern is the estate.” Bletchley reached for a biscuit from the tray. “Especially once it’s folded into Kinnybroch. I’ll have twice as much land then and considerable funds. Managing all that will keep me too busy to worry about the villagers. They can tend to themselves.”