"Let's go in the drawing room, where we can talk."
"I'm tired, Simon. I want to go to bed now."
"Please, Noelle." He took her arm and rather forcefully guided her through the double doors into the drawing room. "I must speak with you before you get away from me."
"What can you possibly have to say to me after all that's happened?"
"That I'm sorry."
She pulled off each of her gloves with a crisp snap. "Oh, come now, Simon. You're no longer dealing with an innocent. How can you be sorry when you've planned so long for this moment?" Looking at him contemptuously, she tossed her gloves down onto the settee. "You've made me into the perfect wife, haven't you? Well-dressed, well-educated, possessed of all the social graces. Only the best for your son!"
"Try to understand. I was convinced the two of you would come to care for each other."
"Are you insane?" Something inside Noelle snapped, and the composure she had tried so hard to maintain crumbled. "I'm frightened of him! Can't you understand that? I always have been. He is wild and unpredictable. Your son is a savage!"
Simon winced as if she had slapped him, but her own suffering was so keen, she had no room in her heart for his. "You were going to tell him, weren't you? If he hadn't discovered who I was, you would have told him yourself!"
Simon's silence condemned him.
Her fisted hands shook in front of her with the force of her pain. "You promised you would protect me! Why? Why did you do this to me?"
Unable to bear the sight of her anguish, Simon turned his back on her and walked to the window, but her reflection stared back at him accusingly in the glass. "There's more, Noelle."
"What do you mean?"
As he spoke his finger traced the edge of the window pane that framed her image. "I announced your marriage to the papers last week."
"Oh, Simon, no!"
"It's created a scandal, of course. Everyone believes you've eloped. London's talking of nothing else. To make it worse, the daughter of a prominent banker tried to kill herself when she heard the news. Fortunately she wasn't successful. But she left a note that has made things more complicated than I ever imagined they would be. She accuses Quinn of promising to marry her. You're portrayed as a seductress. It's all very sordid."
Reluctantly Simon turned to face her. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean for it to happen this way."
Noelle barely heard his words. "I will never forgive you for this."
She fled from the room. Now all she wanted was to be alone. Like a wounded animal, she needed to curl into a tight ball, shut out the rest of the world, and tend to her injuries. She was almost to the stairs when Tomkins's voice stopped her.
"Madam. Please forgive me for not having attended you when you arrived. We did not expect you until tomorrow, and I was preparing to retire."
"It's all right, Tomkins," she managed. "You had no way of knowing I would return early."
"Nevertheless, madam, let me apologize. I would also like to take this opportunity to extend to you the best wishes of the staff and myself on this most auspicious occasion."
Not trusting herself to speak, Noelle merely inclined her head.
"Your valise has already been taken to your new room. I'm sure you'll be relieved to know that Mrs. Debs personally supervised the transfer of all your clothing and personal effects. Mr. Copeland was most specific. He wanted everything ready before your arrival."
Something of what she was feeling must have shown itself on her face because the butler's expression became faintly puzzled.
"Tomkins?"
"Yes, madam."
"Which Mr. Copeland?"
"Why, your husband, of course, madam."
The dragon carved into the mahogany headboard of his bed seemed to laugh at her dismay. They had moved her entire armoire into his spacious room. Her underthings were stacked neatly in a chest in the dressing room; her hairbrushes leaned intimately against his. A crystal perfume vial stood next to a china shaving mug.
"You certainly don't look like a boy any longer, Highness."
Noelle jumped, twisting around at the sound of Quinn's voice. The well-groomed man in the immaculately cut gray suit seemed almost a stranger, so accustomed had she become to seeing him in an open shirt, faded trousers, and riding boots. Only the beard was a reminder of the man who had kept her imprisoned in the cottage in Yorkshire.
Quinn's thoughts were taking much the same course as he surveyed his elegantly coiffed and gowned wife. He took in the way her body filled the dress he had purchased, her breasts swelling beneath the creamy bodice as he had known they would, the tightly nipped waist-a gown well suited to his masculine taste. Still, he knew he was going to miss those breeches. His eyes traveled her body, remembering the hips and shapely backside hidden under the plaid skirt.
"I want my things moved back into my own room."
He chose to deliberately misinterpret her statement. "Why? Are you planning more trips down the vines?"
"How did you know about that?"
"It wasn't hard to figure out. The only thing I don't understand is why you kept going back. Somehow I don't think it was to pick pockets."
She hesitated. If she told him the truth, he would undoubtedly scoff at her. Still, what did she care what he thought? Defiantly she tossed her head. "I used to take money to some of the children."
The callous response she had expected did not come. "Tomorrow I'll arrange for a less dangerous way to send them money."
Once again he had thrown her off her stride. To hide her confusion, she stormed at him, stamping her foot and telling him not only that she refused to stay with him in this room, but that she would not remain in the same house with him! He said nothing, merely crossing his arms over his chest and listening to her.
The more Noelle raved, the more she knew she was hopelessly trapped. Only when she realized how ridiculous she sounded did she finally fall silent. As much as she detested Quinn, as much as he frightened her, returning to her old life terrified her more. These past two years had strengthened her mind and her body, but they had also weakened the primitive instincts that had ruled her existence on London's streets, and she was now certain she could no longer survive in the netherworld she had left behind. It seemed all her choices had been taken from her except one-being Quinn Copeland's wife.
There was amusement on his face, but it was not altogether unsympathetic. "The trouble is. Highness, you weren't born to this life. If you were, it would be easier for you to accept the idea of a marriage of convenience. It happens all the time to well brought up young ladies."
"I feel as if I've been bought."
"In a way, you have. But then, so have I."
She felt a dawning of hope at the bitterness in his words. "You were going to get a divorce!" she exclaimed. "Why not now?"
"It takes an act of Parliament to get a divorce in England."
"Then how-"
"How was I going to arrange it?" He looked at her levelly. "All records of our marriage were simply going to disappear."
"And now that Simon has announced it, that's impossible," Noelle slowly concluded.
Quinn didn't answer, and his very silence fueled her anger.
"You should have done it while there was still time!"
"Don't you think I haven't told myself the same thing a hundred times in the last few days!"
"And what about the scandal you've caught me in? Everyone believes we've eloped. A young woman almost died because of you!"
Quinn laughed harshly. "I met that particular woman once in my life, and it was in the presence of at least ten other people. I don't even remember what she looks like. But I'll tell you this about her -she had very active fantasies."
Noelle sighed and pressed the tips of her fingers to her eyelids. She had no idea whether he was telling the truth or not, and for the moment she was so weary from the long trip that she couldn't seem to bring herself to care.