His Blackmailed Bride

The door swung open and the housekeeper stepped into the room. ‘I thought I’d stop in before…’ She paused and put her hand to her mouth. ‘Don’t you look lovely in that dress, Mrs Fowler? Such a perfect colour for you.’

Paige glanced into the mirror again. The gown Quinn had bought her that afternoon was made of velvet. It was lovely, she thought—or it would have been, under other circumstances.

‘Yes,’ she said with a careless shrug, ‘I suppose it is.’

Norah touched a silk chemise that lay draped across the chair. ‘Everything’s so beautiful,’ she said, smiling at Paige. ‘Are you sure you don’t want me to empty the rest of those boxes?’

Paige looked across the room at the stack of unopened boxes that still lay beside the wardrobe. ‘No, thank you, Norah. I’ll take care of it later.’

‘Oh, but I don’t know if you’ll have time.’ Norah’s face reddened. ‘I mean, Mr Fowler’s planned a lovely evening. He asked me to set the table in the library, and to chill some champagne.’

‘That’s all right,’ Paige said quickly. ‘I’ll… I’ll find the time. Was there anything else, Norah?’

The housekeeper shook her head. ‘I just wanted to let you know that I was off, ma’am.’ She put her hand on the doorknob and smiled at Paige. ‘I called my sister and told her I was coming for a surprise visit. She was delighted—and I told her about all the lovely things you gave me for my niece. I can’t thank you enough, Mrs Fowler. Such nice dresses and all—and new, most of them. Lila will be so pleased.’

‘Yes, I hope she is, Norah. If that’s all…’

The housekeeper tapped her finger against her mouth. ‘I think so,’ she mused. ‘The duck is in the chafing dish, and the bisque is ready. Mr Fowler said not to worry, that he’ll take care of things.’

Paige turned away quickly. ‘Yes,’ she said, ‘I’m sure he will.’

‘Well, I’ll be on my way, then.’ She paused at the door. ‘You’re sure about the clothing, are you, ma’am? I couldn’t believe it when Mr Fowler said to toss it all away. I…’

Paige patted the woman’s arm. ‘I’m glad your niece can make use of it,’ she said quickly. ‘Tell her… tell her to enjoy everything.’

The woman smiled again as she pulled open the door. ‘Isn’t he something?’ Paige looked at her questioningly. ‘Mr Fowler, ma’am. Why on earth would he want you to throw away such a lovely trousseau?’

Because he’s a bastard… ‘I… I’m sure I don’t know, Norah.’

‘Well, goodnight, ma’am.’

‘Goodnight, Norah.’

Paige managed to keep smiling until the door swung shut, and then she sank down on the bed and glanced at the clock. Almost eight. Almost zero hour, she thought bitterly. Quinn had, indeed, taken care of things. Chilled champagne, the clinging, velvet dress she wore that he had selected and bought—he’d even thought of giving Norah the night off. Was he afraid Paige would cry out for help when he… when he took her to his bedroom?

She rose and paced across the room. He needn’t have worried, she thought grimly. She had no intention of giving him the satisfaction of any kind of response, not even a negative one. She would do what was demanded of her, just as she had all day, starting this morning when he’d calmly told her she was to dispose of her trousseau. Everything he’d done—and would do tonight—was meant to remind her that he owned her. She bore his name, she lived in his house. She was his.

Paige glanced at her reflection. Her face was pale, except for two spots of colour high on her cheekbones. She touched her damp palms to her face. Don’t let Quinn see how frightened you are. He had all the advantages as it was. As for passion—it was hard to remember she’d ever felt any for him. Being seduced was one thing; a command performance was quite another, and that’s what this was, after all. ‘Payment time,’ he’d said that morning. And the time was now.

Champagne. And candles, probably. Soft music. Quinn wasn’t a barbarian—if he could seduce her, he would. And if he couldn’t… A shudder ran through her. Nothing would stop him. He was a man who knew what he wanted and got it. Always. He’d spent the day proving that to her.

‘Where do you think you’re going?’ His voice had cracked after her like a whip as she’d hurried from the library that morning.

‘To my room,’ she’d said defiantly.

She’d waited, half expecting him to remind her that she had no room to call her own, but he only shook his head.

‘We’re going out. Get your coat.’

‘Out? But…’

‘Get your coat,’ he’d repeated impatiently. ‘We have a great deal to do.’

In the car, he told her that she was to dispose of everything she’d brought with her.

‘Give it to Norah, if you like. She has a niece or a cousin or something…’

‘But… but all my things are new, Quinn. It doesn’t make any sense.’