someone, it should probably be his daughter. He grasped her arm. “That’s enough. Have your bags packed. You’re coming with me.”
Zoe struggled to break his grip. “Where?”
Beau responded, grimly, “You expressed a desire to enter a nunnery.”
Quin detached himself from the mantle. The events of the past several hours had reminded him why he preferred to pass his time in the steamier haunts of London, amongst thieves and other low-lifes. “What an excellent idea.”
Mina rose, held out her hand. “I am so sorry. This is my fault. I told Zoe she should avoid you.”
Quin smiled at her. “Like the plague, I believe you said. Was I so bad?”
The Black Baron’s smile was rare, and definitely sinful, but also a poignant reminder of the man he once had been. Mina replied, for his ears only, “You were very bad indeed, and it was very good.”
Quin raised her hand to his lips. “You set my mind at ease.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
The next day dawned, to Mina’s thinking, far too soon. It found her closeted with Zoe and Nell in the morning room.
“I’m not a tiresome little twit,” repeated Zoe, for what seemed the millionth time. “I’m not, I’m not, I’m not!”
“Twit!” echoed Nell, who was embarked upon an exploration of the chamber, and currently attempting to climb the writing desk. At least she could not overturn the inkpot. Zoe had already done that.
Merely watching Nell exhausted Mina. The child was a perpetual motion machine. Mina gave up all effort at containing her, and collapsed into a chair.
Zoe made a face at Nell. “And you are an odious brat.”
Nell thrust out her lower lip and echoed, “Brat!”
Pot, meet kettle , Mina thought. Zoe’s bags were packed. All that remained was for Beau to return and take his daughter away.
Where he meant to take her, Mina neither knew nor cared.
Figg tapped on the door. He did not announce Beau, however, but Mr. Eames.
George entered the room. Accompanying him were a stout gentleman in his middle years, with luxurious side whiskers and thinning russet hair; and a younger gentleman, obviously related, whose sartorial splendor — light brown swallowtail coat with lapped pockets and gigot sleeves; a violet waistcoat; nankeen pantaloons buttoned at the ankle with two gold buttons; yellow stockings with large violet clocks; shoes with buckles of polished cut steel — dazzled the eye.
Mina set down her chocolate cup. “Abercorn!” she said. Nell saw him at the same time. “Da! Da, da, da, da, da!”
The younger gentleman scooped her up. “Here’s my Nell.”
The elder Abercorn started. “Her name is Eleanor? In honor of your ma? She resembles her, by God.”
“It is, and she does,” replied his son. “As you would know had you not refused to set eyes on the child.”
The elder man was still staring. He extended a cautious hand. Recognizing an easy mark, Nell grabbed his thumb and grinned.
“Junior and Senior have come to an agreement,” George explained to Mina. “His maternal grandmother wants the keeping of the girl.”
Within the next few moments, Mina was relieved of Nell and presented with five thousand pounds. She couldn’t say which she appreciated more.
The Abercorns departed. Mr. Eames remained. “Lady Anne has agreed to marry me,” he said, with a dark glance at Zoe. “She believes it the only way to save me from your cousin’s fell designs.”
“And her father?” Mina asked.
“Sir Ian was amenable, once I pointed out the Stuart bloodlines are not as unsullied as he would like the world to believe.”
“Blackmail!” Zoe had been silent far too long. “How clever you are.”
“I am a solicitor,” George responded coolly. “This is what solicitors do.”
After all her efforts, the ungrateful wretch offered her not a single word of thanks! Zoe plopped down on the sofa.
“Would you care for chocolate?” asked Mina. “Coffee? Tea?”
Zoe muttered, “I don’t see why he doesn’t
Zoe struggled to break his grip. “Where?”
Beau responded, grimly, “You expressed a desire to enter a nunnery.”
Quin detached himself from the mantle. The events of the past several hours had reminded him why he preferred to pass his time in the steamier haunts of London, amongst thieves and other low-lifes. “What an excellent idea.”
Mina rose, held out her hand. “I am so sorry. This is my fault. I told Zoe she should avoid you.”
Quin smiled at her. “Like the plague, I believe you said. Was I so bad?”
The Black Baron’s smile was rare, and definitely sinful, but also a poignant reminder of the man he once had been. Mina replied, for his ears only, “You were very bad indeed, and it was very good.”
Quin raised her hand to his lips. “You set my mind at ease.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
The next day dawned, to Mina’s thinking, far too soon. It found her closeted with Zoe and Nell in the morning room.
“I’m not a tiresome little twit,” repeated Zoe, for what seemed the millionth time. “I’m not, I’m not, I’m not!”
“Twit!” echoed Nell, who was embarked upon an exploration of the chamber, and currently attempting to climb the writing desk. At least she could not overturn the inkpot. Zoe had already done that.
Merely watching Nell exhausted Mina. The child was a perpetual motion machine. Mina gave up all effort at containing her, and collapsed into a chair.
Zoe made a face at Nell. “And you are an odious brat.”
Nell thrust out her lower lip and echoed, “Brat!”
Pot, meet kettle , Mina thought. Zoe’s bags were packed. All that remained was for Beau to return and take his daughter away.
Where he meant to take her, Mina neither knew nor cared.
Figg tapped on the door. He did not announce Beau, however, but Mr. Eames.
George entered the room. Accompanying him were a stout gentleman in his middle years, with luxurious side whiskers and thinning russet hair; and a younger gentleman, obviously related, whose sartorial splendor — light brown swallowtail coat with lapped pockets and gigot sleeves; a violet waistcoat; nankeen pantaloons buttoned at the ankle with two gold buttons; yellow stockings with large violet clocks; shoes with buckles of polished cut steel — dazzled the eye.
Mina set down her chocolate cup. “Abercorn!” she said. Nell saw him at the same time. “Da! Da, da, da, da, da!”
The younger gentleman scooped her up. “Here’s my Nell.”
The elder Abercorn started. “Her name is Eleanor? In honor of your ma? She resembles her, by God.”
“It is, and she does,” replied his son. “As you would know had you not refused to set eyes on the child.”
The elder man was still staring. He extended a cautious hand. Recognizing an easy mark, Nell grabbed his thumb and grinned.
“Junior and Senior have come to an agreement,” George explained to Mina. “His maternal grandmother wants the keeping of the girl.”
Within the next few moments, Mina was relieved of Nell and presented with five thousand pounds. She couldn’t say which she appreciated more.
The Abercorns departed. Mr. Eames remained. “Lady Anne has agreed to marry me,” he said, with a dark glance at Zoe. “She believes it the only way to save me from your cousin’s fell designs.”
“And her father?” Mina asked.
“Sir Ian was amenable, once I pointed out the Stuart bloodlines are not as unsullied as he would like the world to believe.”
“Blackmail!” Zoe had been silent far too long. “How clever you are.”
“I am a solicitor,” George responded coolly. “This is what solicitors do.”
After all her efforts, the ungrateful wretch offered her not a single word of thanks! Zoe plopped down on the sofa.
“Would you care for chocolate?” asked Mina. “Coffee? Tea?”
Zoe muttered, “I don’t see why he doesn’t
Similar Books
