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Authors: Joanna Shupe
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over. Leave and do not come back .”
“You stubborn man,” she said, her eyes narrowed to slits. “I have done nothing but try to help you. Why are you so unwilling to accept it?”
Fury and embarrassment roiled inside his gut, and he clenched his hands to keep from throwing something. “I do not need your help. I do not need anyone’s help.”
“Is that so? Because this paragon noticed how you fell apart at the report from a pistol. How you refused to give chase—”
“ Enough! ” he roared and snatched the first thing within reach—the crystal ink pot from his desk—and hurled it against the wall. Dark blue spattered on every surface, gruesome evidence of a bestial violence he’d never displayed before. Chest heaving, he closed his eyes against the sight. God, he was no better than an animal. He pressed the heels of his hands to his eyelids. It was getting worse. She was making it decidedly worse.
“Quint,” she said quietly. “Let me help you. Whatever is wrong, it can be fixed.”
He shook his head. So optimistic, his Sophie. She’d been indulged and pampered her whole life, her father allowing her to do as she pleased without consequence. He was beyond redemption, however. How could he make her understand?
“This—I—cannot be fixed. The sooner you believe me, the sooner you will cease interfering in my life and leave me alone.”
“Is that what you think I’ve been doing, interfering?”
He hated the way her face fell, how her shoulders slumped. Most of all, he hated himself for the disease rotting his brain. He needed to drive her away, when what he really wanted was to pull her into his arms and never let her go. But this was how it had to be.
“My lord.” Taylor knocked on the open door and peered in. “I thought I heard a crash. Is anything amiss?”
Quint swallowed and dug for composure. “Everything is fine. See that Lady Sophia gets home, will you, Taylor? I am going to bed.” Without a backward glance, he strode out of the study and toward the stairs. One thing he knew, sleep would be a long time coming.
Noises pulled Sophie up from the depths of sleep. She fought it, snuggling in deeper, until light spilled into the room. “Go away,” she mumbled and flipped the bolster over her head.
“My lady,” Alice said, “his lordship is requesting your presence in his study when you’ve dressed.”
Her father wanted to see her—and so early? That jolted her awake. “What time is it?”
“Nearly one.”
Sophie blinked. “It is? I cannot believe I slept so late.”
“That is what happens when you stay out all night,” Alice muttered.
“I was not out all night. I returned at a fairly reasonable hour.” Only, then, she hadn’t been able to fall asleep. The evening’s events with Quint kept turning around and around in her head.
She rolled over and then groaned. There wasn’t a part of her that did not ache. Even the tops of her toes hurt. “Do I have time for a bath?”
“His lordship is with his man of affairs. I suppose he won’t notice if you’re a few more minutes.” Alice went to the door and poked her head into the corridor.
Sophie struggled to sit up when Alice returned. “Do you think this is about The Talk?” Sophie’d heard it so many times that she could recite it. You need a husband, Sophia. I won’t always be around to look after you. This year, I expect you to choose one. And while she loved her father dearly, she had no intention of following his orders. Her failure would disappoint him, which she regretted, but there was no hope for it. Marriage was impossible.
Her maid went to the wardrobe. “It’s about that time, I’m thinking.”
Sophie sighed heavily as she swung her legs over the side of the mattress.
“His lordship only wants to see you settled and happy with children of your own, my lady. All fathers do.”
Guilt pressed down on her. She would be married now, if only she hadn’t been so stupid. She’d actually
“You stubborn man,” she said, her eyes narrowed to slits. “I have done nothing but try to help you. Why are you so unwilling to accept it?”
Fury and embarrassment roiled inside his gut, and he clenched his hands to keep from throwing something. “I do not need your help. I do not need anyone’s help.”
“Is that so? Because this paragon noticed how you fell apart at the report from a pistol. How you refused to give chase—”
“ Enough! ” he roared and snatched the first thing within reach—the crystal ink pot from his desk—and hurled it against the wall. Dark blue spattered on every surface, gruesome evidence of a bestial violence he’d never displayed before. Chest heaving, he closed his eyes against the sight. God, he was no better than an animal. He pressed the heels of his hands to his eyelids. It was getting worse. She was making it decidedly worse.
“Quint,” she said quietly. “Let me help you. Whatever is wrong, it can be fixed.”
He shook his head. So optimistic, his Sophie. She’d been indulged and pampered her whole life, her father allowing her to do as she pleased without consequence. He was beyond redemption, however. How could he make her understand?
“This—I—cannot be fixed. The sooner you believe me, the sooner you will cease interfering in my life and leave me alone.”
“Is that what you think I’ve been doing, interfering?”
He hated the way her face fell, how her shoulders slumped. Most of all, he hated himself for the disease rotting his brain. He needed to drive her away, when what he really wanted was to pull her into his arms and never let her go. But this was how it had to be.
“My lord.” Taylor knocked on the open door and peered in. “I thought I heard a crash. Is anything amiss?”
Quint swallowed and dug for composure. “Everything is fine. See that Lady Sophia gets home, will you, Taylor? I am going to bed.” Without a backward glance, he strode out of the study and toward the stairs. One thing he knew, sleep would be a long time coming.
Noises pulled Sophie up from the depths of sleep. She fought it, snuggling in deeper, until light spilled into the room. “Go away,” she mumbled and flipped the bolster over her head.
“My lady,” Alice said, “his lordship is requesting your presence in his study when you’ve dressed.”
Her father wanted to see her—and so early? That jolted her awake. “What time is it?”
“Nearly one.”
Sophie blinked. “It is? I cannot believe I slept so late.”
“That is what happens when you stay out all night,” Alice muttered.
“I was not out all night. I returned at a fairly reasonable hour.” Only, then, she hadn’t been able to fall asleep. The evening’s events with Quint kept turning around and around in her head.
She rolled over and then groaned. There wasn’t a part of her that did not ache. Even the tops of her toes hurt. “Do I have time for a bath?”
“His lordship is with his man of affairs. I suppose he won’t notice if you’re a few more minutes.” Alice went to the door and poked her head into the corridor.
Sophie struggled to sit up when Alice returned. “Do you think this is about The Talk?” Sophie’d heard it so many times that she could recite it. You need a husband, Sophia. I won’t always be around to look after you. This year, I expect you to choose one. And while she loved her father dearly, she had no intention of following his orders. Her failure would disappoint him, which she regretted, but there was no hope for it. Marriage was impossible.
Her maid went to the wardrobe. “It’s about that time, I’m thinking.”
Sophie sighed heavily as she swung her legs over the side of the mattress.
“His lordship only wants to see you settled and happy with children of your own, my lady. All fathers do.”
Guilt pressed down on her. She would be married now, if only she hadn’t been so stupid. She’d actually
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