Innocent Courtesan to Adventurer's Bride by Louise Allen Page A

‘The carriage will be at the door.’
    Jenks had sent round the barouche with the top down so they could enjoy the sunny weather. With the betraying newspaper announcement safely illegible her mood lifted and Lina wished she had a parasol to twirl. Instead, she allowed herself to be handed into the forward-facing seat opposite the two men and prepared to enjoy the treat of a drive through the park to Upper Cleybourne church.
    The bells were ringing, the cracked tenor that had so annoyed Simon spoiling the joyous peel. ‘Listen,’ she said, ‘that’s the bell the legacy will replace.’ They came out of the gates and pulled up on the little green outside the church. It was already thronged with parishioners chatting in the sunshine and heads turned as the Dreycott barouche came to a halt.
    Lina descended, preoccupied with sorting out reticule and prayer book and smoothing down her skirts. Then the change in the sound penetrated and she looked up. All around the little groups were falling silent as they stared and the faces that watched them were set and unwelcoming.
    So, the gossip mills have been working to grind outall the old history and they’ve made up their minds, have they? she thought. There were people with whom she had thought herself on cordial terms, with whom she expected to exchange smiles and greetings and village news, who were staring now. They froze her with the same disapproval they directed at the men—it was much worse than she had feared.
    We’ll see about that , Lina thought. Inside she quailed—disapproval had always shrivelled her soul—but now she lifted her chin, set her shoulders back and made herself walk up to Mr and Mrs Willets and their family.
    Mrs Willets had been amiable when Lina stepped off the stagecoach in Sheringham, tired and confused. Lina had fallen into conversation with the Willets’s new governess, who was being met by Mrs Willets in their carriage, and, after a whispered word from Miss Greggs, the matron had been happy to take up Lord Dreycott’s guest. Now the squire managed an uneasy smile of greeting, his wife looked daggers and their daughters edged behind their father.
    â€˜Good morning,’ Lina said brightly. ‘Have you met Lord Dreycott yet? He is most anxious that his late uncle’s legacy to restore the cracked bell is dealt with urgently. Won’t it be a joy to have a musical peal?’
    â€˜Er, no.’ Mr Willets looked harassed. ‘I mean, yes, it will. Good morning, my lord.’ He bowed and Quinn inclined his head in response.
    â€˜Mr Willets. Madam. May I introduce Mr Vasiliev?’
    Gregor bowed, Mrs Willets glared at Lina, the girls giggled. Lina gritted her teeth into a smile and swept on to the next group with much the same result: wary politeness from the men, thinly veiled hostility from the women and no attempt to introduce daughters.
    By the time she reached the church door she was seething and her nervousness had become lost in her anger for Quinn. How could they be so rude and unwelcoming to a man they had never met, just on the basis of ancient gossip?
    Perhaps he hasn’t noticed , she thought. Perhaps he thinks this is just typical English village society. Then as she reached the porch she turned and saw Quinn’s face. He was smiling, but his eyes were like chips of green ice.

Chapter Seven
    W ell, no-one has actually spat on my boots yet , Quinn conceded as he walked up the path in Celina’s wake. It was like following a small, very fierce frigate, wheeling to turn its guns on any enemy shipping it passed. He was touched by her anger on his behalf but he had expected, and to an extent merited, this reception. She did not deserve to be treated like this by those sanctimonious prigs who had shunned his uncle. He certainly did not want to have her fall out with her acquaintance over him and he was not happy about it.
    He caught up with her in the porch and bent