Page 56 of When the Scoundrel Sins

She bit back a laugh. That was almost as ludicrous as the vicar. “Impossible.”

His jaw tightened. “He’s keen on marrying you.”

She didn’t dare let herself hope that the edge she heard to his voice was jealousy. She knew better. “Exactly. So what could he possibly gain by damaging the estate?” Besides, petty vandalism and arson weren’t Sir Harold’s style. Too messy. And too much work. If an activity didn’t involve hunting or gaming, he couldn’t have cared less about it. “You give him too much credit.”

“Because I’m concerned about you, Belle.” He stared at her gravely. “Especially since you’ve come to the decision to marry.”

“I have no other choice.” Her shoulders sagged in defeat. “You might be able to cut yourself off from your home forever, to put half the world between you and the people you—” Her voice choked on the word, her throat tightening painfully around it. Finally, she forced out, “Love.But I could never do that.”

She saw the anger flash coldly over him at her accusation, but she didn’t care. If he could so easily leave England, his home at Chestnut Hill, his family…her, then he would never understand her need to remain here at Glenarvon and her willingness to do whatever she had to in order to save the estate. And she doubted she would ever understandhim.

“So if you aren’t willing to help me, Quinton,” she warned fiercely, “then at least stop making things worse.”

As she rose to her feet to leave, he threw his uninjured arm around her waist and drew her back to him. With a small squeak of surprise, she tumbled down onto his lap.

Maintaining a steely grip around her waist with his arm to keep her from slipping away, he cupped his palm against her cheek. His blue eyes shined into hers like a moonlit midnight.

“Damnation, Belle,” he growled. “Iamtrying to help you.”

“No, you’re not! You—”

“I’ve found another way to save Glenarvon,” he grudgingly admitted.

She stilled instantly. Her hands, which had been shoving at his shoulders to free herself, froze as she searched his face. But a grimness darkened his features. If he’d found a way to save her, he didn’t seem at all happy about it. She held her breath as she whispered, “How?”

“You buy Glenarvon back from the Church,” he answered quietly.

She flashed numb, all her hope evaporating. “But I can’t buy it,” she whispered, so softly her voice was barely audible to her own ears. Disappointment burned inside her chest, and so did humiliation when she had to admit, “I don’t have any money.”

And no way to get any. She had no property of any kind to post as collateral against a loan, and no male relative who could sign a loan for her in the first place. Women couldn’t get loans on their own, certainly not mortgages, and every clerk she approached would laugh her right out of the bank if she tried.

She looked away, not wanting him to see her helpless tears. He’d dangled hope in front of her, then cruelly pulled it away. Owning Glenarvon without a husband was just as unreachable for her as before.

“There is a way.” He took her chin in his fingers and turned her face back toward him. “If you let me help you.”

She shook her head. The familiar frustration came rushing back, and she sucked in a jerking, pained breath. “But you’re going to America…”

“I am,” he confirmed somberly.

She winced as an arrow of disappointment pierced her heart, deeper than she thought possible. For one fleeting moment, she’d dared to hope that Quinton had changed his mind, that he was offering to stay right here in England. She should have known better. After all, didn’t she know better than most the ramifications of a father’s influence on his child’s life?

As if reading her troubled thoughts, he added, “But I can also make certain that you’re safe here before I go.”

She didn’t share his conviction. “How?”

“By convincing Sebastian to buy Glenarvon.” He grinned at her, but his eyes were just as troubled as before. “What’s the point in having a duke for a brother if I never get to use him to my advantage?”

Belle stared solemnly at him. She couldn’t join in his optimism. “But Sebastian will own it then,” she reminded him quietly.

“And he’ll let you live here and run the estate as you please.” When she didn’t react with joy or throw her arms around his neck, as he’d undoubtedly expected, he frowned. “That’s what you wanted. To keep Glenarvon without having to marry. We’ve found a way to make it happen.”

“But I won’t own it,” she breathed out. Speaking any louder would have shattered her heart. “It’ll be Trent’s, not mine.”

“You asked for my help, Annabelle.” He rubbed his thumb over the streak of soot dirtying her cheek, but the tender touch scalded. “This will keep you from having to marry.”

But that was only a legal technicality. Because it didn’t stop her from once more being at the mercy of a man.

A sadness crept up inside her as she stared into his face, seeing an expression there of such concern for her, such relief that he’d finally found a solution to her troubles, that it made her ache. He was trying to help, but how could he ever understand what it was like to be helpless? To be left vulnerable to the volatility of a man, who was stronger and harder? Who had the power to evict her from her home whenever he pleased?