Beguiled by Her Betrayer

The wine or Quin’s kiss, or perhaps both, were making the room whirl above her head. It went on spinning when she closed her eyes so she sat up and groped for the covered glass beside the bed and gulped down warm well water. Cleo had a horrible suspicion that she was going regret a number of things in the morning and probably the least of them was going to be the wine she had drunk.

‘I am not going to think about it now,’ she said out loud and lay down again. I am not going to think about him now, either.

* * *

‘You will be glad to know that your banker in Alexandria has come through all the recent disruption quite safely,’ Sir James said, shuffling a pile of papers on his desk.

‘Disruption?’ Sir Philip looked blank.

Behind her Cleo heard Quin sigh, but he answered patiently. ‘Being occupied by the French, being invaded by the British, having several battles fought in the vicinity, plague, Turkish troops...’

‘Oh, yes.’

‘He released the last lot of funds you requested several months ago to my safekeeping. Here is the receipt.’ Sir James pushed it across the table. ‘I imagine you’ll need to employ a staff and a housekeeper. Dr Kent will see to finding you a house in Cairo as soon as we gain possession, meanwhile you are, of course, welcome to stay here. I assume you will be giving Miss Woodward a note of hand so that she can withdraw money as she passes through Alexandria.’

‘What for?’

‘Clothing, luggage, the necessities for a sea voyage, personal items. The hire of a maid. Miss Woodward will also require a bank draft on your London bank so she can establish herself when she arrives,’ Quin snapped.

‘All very extravagant,’ her father protested. ‘I’m not made of money. I’m a poor man.’

‘Indeed? Your banker in Alexandria was indiscreet enough to let slip that he was concerned about the way your income from the trust fund was building up, Sir Philip.’

‘Trust fund.’ Cleo clenched her hands together to still their shaking. ‘Trust fund? You had money all the time that Mama was working herself into a shadow making ends meet, all the time I have been scratching around economising with every piaster?’

‘It was a pittance a great-aunt left me.’ Her father stuck out his lower lip like a small boy confronted by a misdeed.

‘The banker gave me a statement of account to pass to you,’ Sir James added. His face was perfectly bland, but Cleo had the startling impression that he was enjoying this.

‘Thank you.’ She got to her feet and took the sealed letter from his hand before her father could reach for it. The wax shattered under her impatient thumb and she spread out the single sheet with its rows of figures. They danced in front of her eyes as she blinked at them. ‘This is over a thousand pounds. A thousand pounds sterling.’

‘It has accumulated slowly,’ her father huffed.

‘We could have had a doctor for Mama. A proper doctor. A house, servants, you selfish man.’ Cleo looked at the figures again. ‘I want half of this. I have earned it.’

‘Ridiculous. You are a woman, you haven’t the slightest idea—’

‘I fear it may prove very difficult to find the keys to the locks on your chests, Sir Philip,’ Quin interrupted. ‘In fact, it may well be that the chests themselves may have been shipped off to Cairo in error. I doubt my memory of their whereabouts will come back to me until I stop worrying about Miss Woodward’s very reasonable claim for funds.’

‘That’s blackmail!’

‘No, the stress of his experiences, I fear,’ Sir James said. ‘Unfortunately Lord Quintus suffers from these blackouts from time to time. I am sure it will all come back to him. Eventually.’

‘Might I suggest this?’ Quin handed the enraged baronet a piece of paper. ‘Just sign and date it. You’ll see there is a request to release a sum of money to Miss Woodward immediately and to give her a draft transferring funds to the London branch. Ah, my memory is coming back,’ he added as her father scrawled his name across the foot of the page. ‘See, here are the keys.’

‘Quin, you are wonderful!’ Cleo bounced out of her chair and threw her arms around his neck. ‘Thank you.’ She stood on tiptoe and kissed him, full on the mouth.

It took only a second to realise what she had done. What was the matter with her? Lingering alcohol fumes and relief over the money, she supposed. This was Lord Quintus, the man who had betrayed her, for heaven’s sake.

Quin went quite still, then stepped back out of her embrace. ‘Your enthusiasm is enchanting, Miss Woodward,’ he said politely and Cleo felt the chill in her veins. ‘However, no thanks is expected or required. Now we have the finances settled, would you be ready to depart for Alexandria in the morning? I wonder if the woman who has been attending to your needs would be prepared to travel with you until you find a suitable maid and we locate a ship.’