Page 36 of When the Scoundrel Sins

“Nothing to worry about,” she dissembled with a forced smile. “Mr. Burns and the men had it all fixed this morning. The sheep will be back in their proper pastures by the end of the week.”

Belle’s explanation mollified Aunt Agatha, but Quinn saw a glint in Bletchley’s eyes. The man scoffed, “More proof that a woman has no business running an estate.”

Belle stiffened at that. But Bletchley didn’t notice. Or if he did, the obtuse man foolishly decided to ignore it.

Quinn said nothing, gladly letting the arrogant fop dig his own grave.

Bletchley continued, “I expect that mischief will stop soon, once you accept my suit and whoever is doing it realizes that a man is properly looking after the property.”

“Oh.” Her face fell. The amusement that had been there only moments before vanished, and she looked away.

“Have you decided on your answer, Miss Greene?” Bletchley pressed, with all the romantic finesse of a dead donkey. “I daresay, time is running out. Will I be allowed to formally court you?”

“Well, I…that is…” Belle stammered. Her gaze darted nervously to Quinton. In her eyes, he saw a warring desperation and sadness that tied his gut into a knot.

Agatha rose from the settee. “Sir Harold, perhaps you should discuss this privately with Lord Quinton. In lieu of a male relative, my nephew will be serving as Belle’s—”

“We’ve been neighbors for years, with no secrets between us.” Bletchley waved away the viscountess’s concerns. “I know the predicament you’re facing, Miss Greene, and there’s no need to stand on formality with me.” He smiled confidently at Belle. “Except that I would like to hear your acknowledgment that I have your favor.”

When Belle hesitated, Aunt Agatha murmured, “Quinton?”

“Annabelle knows what’s best for her,” he answered quietly. “She doesn’t need me to make up her mind.” And, knowing how stubborn she was, to most likely do exactly what he told her not to.

Quinn’s eyes fixed on Belle, even as hers were pinned to her cup of tea, not daring to glance in his direction. Holding his breath, he waited for her to refuse Bletchley’s suit. In the silence, his heartbeat thundered in his ears—

“Yes,” she breathed, so softly that no sound crossed her lips.

But Quinn heard, and her answer reverberated through his chest with the force of cannon fire.

Lady Ainsley blinked, as if she hadn’t heard properly. As if just as surprised as Quinn that Belle hadn’t refused. “Pardon?”

“I said yes.” Belle raised her chin and stared across the room at Bletchley as she grudgingly accepted his offer with all the emotion of buying flour from the miller. “I will allow you to court me, Sir Harold.”

“Good,” Bletchley commented so gleefully that Quinn expected him to rub his hands together. “Then tomorrow after church I’d be pleased to take you on a drive through the countryside.”

Belle nodded, saying nothing, but she couldn’t hide the grim sadness on her face. Or the sense of defeat that radiated from her.

Aunt Agatha smiled tightly at Bletchley. “Come, Sir Harold.” She took his arm and led him toward the door. “I’ll show you out.”

As the dowager led Bletchley from the room, she glanced back at Quinn, giving him a look he couldn’t comprehend in his stunned bewilderment over Belle’s answer. Although what he sensed from his aunt was disappointment. In him.

Quinn crossed his arms and stared at Belle, who hadn’t moved an inch. To agree to go through with this nonsense—with Bletchley! He was furious at her, and the little hellcat knew it, too. Which was why she refused to look at him.

But it wasn’t just anger, it was also betrayal. Not for himself, of course. It would be ludicrous to say so, as much as to say he was jealous of Bletchley. He had no rights to her, no feelings for her besides friendship.

No—she’d betrayed herself. Surrendering so easily to a life with a man like Sir Harold was a betrayal to the strong woman he thought she’d become.

“Oh no, you don’t,” he ground out as he stalked toward her. “You arenotgoing through with this.”

***

“Quinn, please understand,” Belle protested, retreating across the room from him. He was furious, with more anger than she’d ever seen in him. So much that it shook her to her core. Even the hand she futilely held up to keep him at bay trembled.

But he was relentless in his pursuit, stepping her backward until he’d trapped her in the corner.

“Why, Annabelle?” he demanded. “Are you that desperate that you’d consider shackling yourself to that pompous arse?” His jaw tightened so hard that the muscles in his neck jumped. He held his hands against the wall at her shoulders to prevent her from running away. “Do youwantto marry him?”

She shuddered at the thought. “Of course I don’t!”