An Affair So Right (Rebel Hearts #4)(59)

“I don’t believe that there is anything wrong with what we—”

“I know your feelings on the matter. You’ve been very clear indeed on how you view this,” Quinn waved his hand, “whatever this was between us.”

She stared at him, trying to figure him out. “Was?”

He nodded curtly without meeting her gaze. “We’re in St. James, now. What was the house number?”

Theodora told him and dug into her satchel as the carriage slowed. But her heart currently resided in her shoes. Was Quinn saying they were done with each other because she wouldn’t replace his last mistress? She swallowed to wet her suddenly dry mouth. “I have the description here. Five bedrooms, portico front with fanlight above, half basement, and a complement of four permanent staff. Doorman, cook, maid, and footman.”

She glanced at Quinn as the carriage stopped directly before the townhouse and waited for some reaction. Quinn wouldn’t look at her. She swallowed the lump in her throat. She’d gone too far in her zeal to manage his affairs. But after meeting his former mistress, and learning her true character, she could hardly regret anything she’d done that day. She would save Quinn from that woman if it was the last thing she ever did for him.

She looked at the house and tried to put her feelings for Quinn aside. Doing that was quite difficult she found. She didn’t want to give up Quinn if she didn’t have to. She looked at the house, rather than think of a life lived without him.

It was a pretty house, distinguished. The neoclassical detailing on the fa?ade made it seem quite grand. She cleared her throat to get Quinn’s attention. “Did you hear me, my lord?”

“Yes. Bedrooms, basement, servants,” he said in a bored tone, moving his face closer to the window as he peered out. “Much the same as all the rest in this neighborhood, most likely.”

Theodora glanced at the house just as a wigged gentleman answered the groom’s knock and received Theodora’s calling card. The man nodded, agreeing to give her entry, and they got out. Quinn was still staring in the wrong direction, though, once he stood on the footpath.

“The house is this way, my lord.”

“It cannot be,” Quinn exclaimed, taking a few steps in the wrong direction.

“Lord Templeton,” Theodora called. “Are you coming with me or not?”

He met her gaze briefly and looked away, frowning fiercely. “Usually, yes.”

Theodora blushed and dropped her chin, skin tingling at how quickly her thoughts turned to intimacy with him.

He hurried to join her, caught her elbow in a firm grip and practically dragged her to the front door. “It seems a pleasant prospect.”

“Indeed it does.” Grateful for his renewed interest in the house, and for his touch again, she smiled quickly. “You don’t have to come with me. I am capable of assessing the situation on my own.”

“No, I came this far. I’m coming inside with you.” He caught her elbow and steered her toward the steps. “You mentioned your meeting with Mrs. Blakely went poorly. You were angry.”

Such an understatement. “She understands her options are limited,” Theodora said firmly, hoping not to have to reveal the whole of their conversation. “I have asked her to exit the property by Thursday.”

“Good. Good.”

His grip fell away as they stopped inside the entrance hall.

The doorman appeared at a loss when he stared at her, clutching her card in his gloved hands. Theodora smiled warmly, hoping to win the fellow over quickly. “We would like to inspect the house?”

He glanced at the card, then at Quinn, who was peeking out the front windows.

Her employer returned. “I am the late Lord Templeton’s eldest son, formerly Captain Quinn Ford. Now the earl. I’m here to decide what to do with the house I’ve inherited from my father.”

The man sighed. “It’s unoccupied, my lord.”

He glanced past the servant. “So, there is no one presently living here?”

The man nodded vigorously. “Myself and two other servants.”

“Excellent. If you don’t mind, we will show ourselves around.”

The man stepped back. “I’ll wait here in case I can be of any further assistance.”

Quinn gestured for Theodora to lead the way. She passed him to look around. The rooms were sparsely decorated and had few personal possessions scattered about. Most of the furniture had white covers spread over them to keep out the dust. She peeked under a few, noting the furniture was first-rate.

The staircase was steep to an upper floor of four rooms, but only one held a bed. The bed was made, but Theodora would wager it had seen recent use, given the poor job done of straightening it. There were a comb and soap at the washbasin, a spare cravat already pressed to perfection inside a tall cupboard.

“Such a large bed for such an empty house,” she commented.

Quinn had paused at the door, one arm resting against the doorframe, and his gaze was speculative. “My father slept here on occasion.”

Theodora winced. Quinn was always happier when his father was not part of their conversation. “What makes you say that?”

“Look at that ridiculous bed. Father refused to sleep in any bed smaller than eight feet square. He probably met his lovers here.”

“He’s owned this dwelling for some time.” Theodora remembered the details from the deed of ownership. “A decade or more. Does your mother know about this place?”