Collector of Hearts Page 10

  ‘Fuck!’

  He threw the cup at the wall and watched the fine bone china shatter into a million pieces. Beside him, Finch jumped in surprise but Robert didn’t care, and that, he knew, was his biggest problem.

  Or was it that he did care?

  ***

  While Isabelle settled their mother into Quinn’s carriage, Arabella pulled Shacklesbury aside on the top step.

  ‘Well, where is he?’ she asked.

  ‘He’s not coming,’ Quinn replied.

  ‘Why not?’ They’d made only a few steps. ‘You said in your note.’

  Quinn smiled, ‘I know, but that was before.’

  ‘Before?’

  ‘Before I went to see him.’ Shacklesbury took her hand in his and gave it a squeeze. ‘You can rest easy. He won’t be annoying you anymore. I have persuaded him to see the error of his ways and he has accepted his defeat.’

  Her mouth fell open. Her steps faltered and he took her arm to steady her. What? This didn’t seem right. ‘Accepted defeat? That does not sound like Shelton. What did you threaten him with? A public flogging? Castration?’

  Quinn chuckled. He seemed very pleased with himself, that was for sure. ‘Good lord, nothing as grim as that but much more powerful. And, no, I am not going to tell you.’ He started to take the next step but Arabella wasn’t finished yet and grabbed at his arm. He looked surprised by her expression.

  She didn’t know if she was angry at Shelton or Quinn or herself. ‘So you negotiated my freedom, did you?’

  ‘Something like that. Why are you angry?’

  She cocked her head to the side. ‘How much did it cost you?’

  He huffed, looking towards the carriage, no doubt wishing he was already in it and gone far from her. ‘It cost me nothing. The risk was all his.’

  ‘Then what did you have to promise him? He would not have given up without a fight.’ If she knew anything about Shelton at all, it was that he didn’t like to be told what to do.

  His expression was confused. ‘Nothing. In fact, he has promised me.’

  ‘Promised you what?’

  ‘You need to calm yourself.’

  It was then that she realised her voice had been rising octaves at an alarming rate. She took a deep breath. ‘What did he promise you?’

  ‘That he would leave you be. It is for the better, I assure you. He would never have done the honourable thing, no matter what he may have said to you last night.’

  Everything Shacklesbury said was true, but it still gave her no real reason for Shelton to agree to abandon her. Abandon her? Is this how she felt about all this? Is that why she was acting so irrationally this morning? ‘He never said anything last night that would make me think him honourable.’

  ‘You see? I have saved you from the Collector of Hearts. You can thank me by getting into the carriage so we can go.’

  Isabelle was looking at them from her seat in the carriage, no doubt wondering what was going on.

  ‘Shacklesbury, I have more questions.’

  ‘They will have to wait.’

  ‘No, I must ask about the day you and Shelton met. Why did he want to jump into the Thames?’

  Quinn stopped mid-stride and looked back over his shoulder; his eyebrows rose to his hairline. ‘He told you that, but not why?’

  She nodded.

  ‘I’m afraid it is not my story to tell.’

  She found herself huffing in frustration. ‘I need to know.’

  ‘No. You don’t.’ He pointed towards the carriage. ‘You need to get in is what you need to do.’

  Last night Shelton had said he had no intention of giving her up and now he had? What had happened between last night and this morning? Had he found her too provincial, too inexperienced, or too inept? He certainly hadn’t given her that impression. Shacklesbury must have really laid down the law for Robert to back down like this.

  ‘Why are you not happy?’ Quinn asked, as he must have noticed her confusion as he handed her in.

  Of course, she should be happy. She should be overjoyed, doing a jig, but she wasn’t. He had let her go. Just like that, this whole thing was over. No more Collector of Hearts. No more anxiety over where and when he would turn up next and what he may or may not say or do. Yes. She should be ecstatically happy.

  Except … no more kisses either.

  Quinn was looking at her expectantly. ‘I … I am,’ she said. ‘It is just that I had not expected it, but last night …’

  ‘Last night you got off lightly. He would not be so generous again, believe me.’ Quinn was trying to reassure her. ‘Don’t be fooled as so many before you have been.’

  She gave him a quick, weak smile. ‘You’re right, of course. I am most fortunate. It is what I had wished for. Thank you,’ she settled her skirts and gave him another tremulous smile. He returned the smile and then took his seat next to Isabelle.

  She stared at their townhouse as they began to move. She had escaped Robert Mallory and his dishonourable intentions. This was what she had begged him for last night. This was what she had wanted, wasn’t it? Perhaps, after their ride in the park, Quinn may be a little more forthcoming with an explanation. She needed something that would put her mind at ease. Surely she wasn’t worried for Shelton?

  For now, she snuggled next to her mother, who smiled down at her and patted her hand, saying, ‘If only Lord Shacklesbury’s brother was of marriageable age.’

  Quinn winked at Isabelle and Arabella felt a measure of jealousy. ‘He probably would think he was, but that is the nature of a pup of Stephen’s age. He thinks he can take on the world. I have a sister also. She is married to Lord Snowden and lives in Devon with their infant son.’

  ‘Devon is a lovely place, or so I’ve been told,’ Isabelle replied, smiling into the afternoon sky which was prettily dappled with white puffy clouds.

  ‘Yes, it is. Perhaps we will have reason to go there one day, you and me.’ His eyes sparkled at Isabelle, who blushed beautifully and hugged his arm closer. Quinn laughed and they began chatting on and on like courting couples do and Arabella felt like a sixth toe.

  She was happy that Isabelle had found herself someone whom she was so obviously in love with already and whom everybody seemed to like. Even her father seemed quietly accepting of the match, or didn’t care. At least one good thing has come out of meeting the Collector of Hearts, she thought and then sighed when she realised her mother was asleep. She scanned the trees of the park, almost expecting Robert to come riding out of them like he had the other day, but he didn’t and she scolded herself for being such a ninny.

  Today was a good day … so why did she feel so miserable?

  Chapter 9

  Manton’s shooting gallery was empty at this time of day. Robert needed time to think, to reassess so he wasn’t particularly happy when he sensed Quinn behind him. Robert didn’t turn around, simply continued to load his pistol. How opposite they were, his friend was too led by his emotions to let things lie for long and he tried to avoid emotion as much as possible. Both had their downsides, he was beginning to see.

  Shacklesbury cleared his throat. ‘I hope I’m not intruding. I was just admiring, as always, the fluent, effortless, deadly skill you possess with a pistol.’

  ‘I thought you hated everything to do with duelling?’ And me.

  ‘I may not like the reasons we attend so many but I can admire the fact that you have a good arm and that you use your skill to prevent death these days.’

  He turned towards his friend. ‘How magnanimous of you.’

  ‘I hope you haven’t been imagining the wafer you are aiming at as me.’

  ‘Would you be shocked?’ A wall of unease was building between them and it was made of all things disappointing and bitter. He needed to get himself out of this mood.

  ‘Not really.’ He offered a small smile but Robert returned to reloading his pistol.

  ‘How was the park?’ he asked in a casual tone as he finished loading his firearm. Tho
ugh he tried to deny it to himself, he wished deep down that he could have seen Arabella’s face when she’d been told the news.

  Quinn raised an eyebrow. ‘Packed, but that is not what you were asking, is it? Miss Arabella was a little confused at first when I informed her, but then she seemed... relieved.’

  Robert’s hands readied the pistol. ‘I imagine she was.’ He couldn’t help the resentment that crept into his tone.

  Quinn winced as Robert rammed the ball and wadding with a little more force than necessary down the muzzle of the pistol.

  ‘You know I had no other choice. You can’t hold this against me forever, surely?’

  ‘Not forever,’ Robert replied, putting up a warning hand.

  Shacklesbury stepped back and put his hands over his ears. Robert was still facing him, but only for a moment before he brought his pistol up at the same time, aiming and firing at the wafer at the far end of the room. When the boom of the shot and the gun smoke had dissipated somewhat, he put down his pistol, not even bothering to see where he hit.

  But Shacklesbury applauded. ‘Dead centre!’

  Robert bowed. ‘When are you to see Tremaine about courting Isabelle?’

  ‘I have not officially asked. Tremaine is not the easiest man to track down,’ Quinn replied.

  ‘That’s not surprising. I’ve heard he’s in deep at the hells. Perhaps that is where you will find him.’ He put his pistol down on the small table next to him. ‘Have you even kissed her yet?’

  Quinn tugged at his waistcoat. ‘No, of course not. I admire Miss Isabelle but I hardly know her yet. If you must know, it turns out Lady Tremaine is a friend of my mother’s, so I must tread carefully.’

  ‘Oh, and is this the real reason for your visit yesterday?’

  ‘Partly. Do you want to upset my mother?’

  ‘Absolutely not.’

  ‘Now do you understand that I could not let you continue to do whatever you thought you were doing with Arabella? I do admire Isabelle and I do want to court her, but I cannot do that if you are upsetting her sister left and right.

  ‘Left and right,’ he muttered to himself, as it reminded him of the night he first saw Arabella; the first time she had challenged him. Really, she had challenged him at every opportunity and if he was truly honest, he loved it. ‘Just do not marry the girl without at least kissing her first. You can tell a lot about a woman by the way she kisses.’ And his one kiss with Arabella had haunted him ever since.

  ‘She is young and innocent. I can’t think about that sort of thing at the moment.’

  ‘Women are made for kissing, Quinn. Especially that pair.’ He gathered up his duelling case and put the two pistols in it. ‘So, you’ve found a woman that fits your image of wife and mother, but it isn’t cosy nights by the fire that you're imagining when you look at her, is it? You’re thinking how good it’s going to be when you finally get her in your bed.’ He chuckled at his friend’s expression. ‘You’re not as righteous as you try to make out.’ He knew he was being tough on him but Shacklesbury was prone to be a little too romantic when it came to women.

  ‘I was going to say, she’s more fragile than her sister,’ Quinn explained, frustration creeping into his tone.

  ‘Rubbish! She’s shy, but other than that I think she could bear you, you big lump.’ Robert picked up the case off the table and walked to the small booth at the far end of the wooden-panelled room. ‘Give these a good clean and I’ll send my man to pick them up this afternoon,’ he instructed the lad in the booth, who nodded and took the case containing his pistols from him with reverent care.

  ‘Shall we have a game of billiards?’ Quinn asked, no doubt to lighten the mood that had descended on them.

  ‘I was actually thinking that perhaps I should eat something. My appetite has been a little lacking for the last few days.’ Had Quinn noticed the slightly sarcastic tone? If he did, he didn’t show it. They walked from Davies Street across St James Street towards White’s.

  ‘I could not have let you go on. It would have been different had she coyly asked for your attentions like the others have done in the past, but she did not, was not, is not, interested,’ he said in an exasperated tone as they paused to let a cart piled with fish pass them by.

  Robert glared at him for a moment and then began walking again. He had given her up so why was his friend still lecturing him?

  ‘It must be this way; surely you see it, even if you don’t want to admit it.’

  Robert stiffened, before turning around again. ‘Have you finished?’

  ‘Not quite. Why did you tell Arabella about wanting to jump into the Thames?’

  He froze for a moment. So she’d told him about that? What else had she said about the other night?

  To Quinn he simply shrugged and replied, ‘Strategy.’

  ‘You could have made up a lie but you told her the truth? Why?’

  Robert stopped on the edge of the street and stared hard at him again.

  ‘Shacklesbury, it’s done. What does it matter?’

  Quinn stood his ground. ‘How much did you tell her?’

  Robert sighed. ‘Just enough. Now can we change the subject?’

  ‘Did you tell her about Faulkner?’

  ‘No, why on earth would I do that?’

  ‘Why on earth would you have told her anything about that day?’

  ‘It just came out.’ Robert wasn’t even totally sure why he had told her what he did, other than he had been desperate to gain back control of the situation. Or had he simply wanted to see what she might make of it?

  In the telling he had found the softer side of her, had confirmed that she was not totally without feeling towards him. That kiss had told him all. And now he may never be able to kiss her again.

  Only Shacklesbury, who knew him so well, would have seen the signs of his anger. How he shuttered his expression.

  Quinn put up his hands in resignation. ‘Fine.’

  They caught a hack to St James and ascended the steps to White’s.

  Robert stalked over to a table and sank slowly into a chair, before looking down at the menu. Quinn sat down opposite. It seemed neither of them could think of anything to say that didn’t involve Isabelle or Arabella, so they sat in silence. It was an extremely miserable meal.

  ***

  Three weeks! Three weeks of not so much as a glimpse of the Collector of Hearts. At first, Arabella seemed to see him at every ball, but he would not come anywhere near her. He danced with other women and smiled and laughed, and every so often she would catch him looking at her, only to soon disappear from sight, presumably with a woman.

  She despised him.

  She had soon found out that with him firmly out of her hair, other gentlemen slowly gravitated back to her parlour. She hated it, and she certainly didn’t like any of them.

  Damn Robert Mallory for the heartless creature he was! And damn herself for being so acutely aware of his absence. Although she wished for nothing more, it wasn’t as though he had dropped off the end of the earth. Far from it. The rumours were rife. But where had he gone? Who was he with? Was it all true? Isabelle was sure the stories were made up, Quinn was noncommittal, and all the while she quietly fumed.

  Why was she so angry? Was it simply because he had left her? With no explanation, no word of apology, no word of any kind. Robert Mallory was a coward.

  She could not avoid the gossips. The air was saturated with their twittering. Everywhere she went she heard the same things.

  ‘Did you hear? The Collector has been collected.’

  ‘I heard she is a most beautiful widow.’

  ‘A beauty indeed. She has him so lovesick he has abandoned all of us and followed her to the country.’

  ‘But who is she?’

  Indeed, who could she be?

  Arabella did not believe the rumours for a moment. Robert was incapable of such an emotion as love, he had told her so himself. Quinn’s inability to lie, at least not very well, only made her e
ven more suspicious. He was hiding from her, she was sure of it, but why? Surely she possessed no power over him, or did she? What else would compel him to act in such a manner?

  She was still pondering this question when Shacklesbury emerged from her father’s study, puffed up with pride and fit to burst. ‘Isabelle and I are engaged!’

  Isabelle beamed as she, too, came into the room.

  ‘Engaged?’ Arabella repeated.

  Isabelle laughed and Arabella felt the room spin around her. Of course, Isabelle was to be married to Shacklesbury. They were perfect for each other. It was inevitable.

  Sensing Isabelle’s confusion at her less than enthusiastic reaction, she jumped up from the sofa to rectify the situation and hugged her sister. ‘Wonderful news,’ she said, taking Shacklesbury’s hand in hers also. ‘I am so happy for you both.’

  And she was. Her sister deserved to be happy, to be in love, to be married to a man like Shacklesbury.

  ***

  The whole household was in an excited turmoil. There was a dinner in honour of the engagement and it was the liveliest meal since coming to London. Shacklesbury’s brother Stephen had been released from his studies at Eton and Lady Shacklesbury had come down from the country for the occasion. Arabella’s mother had been overjoyed to reacquaint with her friend Lady Shacklesbury, who was all happy openness and good will. Everyone was merry and bright. The only thing missing were gifts and mistletoe and it would have been Christmas.

  They were to be married at Tremaine House in Sussex and there was much to do to prepare. This being so, and Robert being Quinn’s friend, meant that eventually he would have to surface for the wedding; there would be no avoiding her then. In fact, with her as maid of honour and he bound to be best man, they would, in fact, be partners for the ceremony.

  ‘Are you sure you are going to be all right? You only have to bear with him for the ceremony.’ Isabelle took her hands and led her over to the front windows of the parlour as the rest of their guests listened to stories of Stephen’s friends at Eton.