realised that any attempt to keep what she had done secret was useless. She was in deep trouble and knew it. First she sought out Mr Quinn. He was in the study, pacing the floor as he read through some correspondence from her father that had just arrived.
Mr Quinn was a quiet, private man—secretive, even. Where he went and what he did Amanda had no idea and nor did she care, providing he left her alone to do as she pleased. As her father’s employee of two decades or more—more than she could remember—she had respect for the man, but she could not like him. His past was a mystery to Amanda, and she had not enquired into it. He had served her father well, which was why he had entrusted the care of his daughter to him for the time she was in Charleston.
Now his features were set in a stern, unsmiling expression. With the width of the desk between them, Amanda raised her chin with a touch of defiance, steeling herself for Mr Quinn’s wrath that would descend on her like an axe when she told what she had done.
As quickly as she could, she told him everything there was to tell about her marriage to Mr Claybourne. All the while her eyes never left his furious face. Such a transformation came over him as he listened to what she had to say that she recoiled before the change. All that had been calm and controlled had given way to fury and positive revulsion. They stood facing each other, but before Amanda could utter one more word, Mr Quinn erupted with fury.
‘By all the saints, have you taken leave of your senses? You foolish, stupid, reckless girl. You have brought shame on your good name and will break your father’s heart because of it.’
Amanda stood her ground, her face as stubborn and angry as his. ‘Do calm yourself, Mr Quinn. I know how greatly disappointed you must be—’
‘And what did you expect? For me to raise a toast and congratulate you and that—that horse breaker—that murderer—on your new-found happiness? I can only think your youth and thoughtlessness prompted such irresponsible conduct. And what of your cousin? Was Charlotte in on this—this escapade?’
‘No.’
‘I thought not. She has more sense. And this is how you repay her kindness—and your Aunt Lucy’s.’ He gave her a withering look. ‘Your father placed you in my care. What do you think he will say when he hears of this—this farce of a marriage? This is one time you won’t be able to wheedle and sweet-talk him. His punishment will be severe—on both of us. One thing is certain—my dismissal from his service will be immediate. He does not deserve to be deceived, and there will be hell to pay when he finds out.’
Amanda flinched at the harsh words. She had no doubt that the shock on his face was genuine, and yet she sensed another emotion there too, as if a distant fear that had nothing to do with her father’s finding out were suddenly shimmering in the older man’s eyes. There was a fierce, almost frightening anger about him, but there was not a thing Mr Quinn could do about her marriage now. She was Mrs Christopher Claybourne and she had the papers to prove it.
‘Then all the more reason not to tell him. We can spare him the details. It can be our secret.’
He stared at her in appalled amazement. ‘You are asking me to become your co-conspirator? You were not brought up to be devious,’ he snapped.
‘It’s too late for recriminations, Mr Quinn. It’s done. I am Mrs Claybourne now. There is no need for my father to know my husband was a murderer hanged for his crime. He will be told Mr Claybourne died on board ship.’
‘I do not like conspiracies.’
‘To bring this matter to his ears will hurt him, Mr Quinn, you must see that, and nothing will induce me to wound him.’
‘It’s a little late for that. My congratulations on your deceit. Your visits to the shops had me completely fooled. You must be the cleverest young woman this side of the Atlantic. I demand to know why you did not see fit to tell me.’
‘You know why. You would have prevented me.’
‘Damn right I would.’ His expression was set and hard. ‘To plan this—to enter the City Gaol and to tie yourself to a murderer—is nothing less than outrageous … scandalous. And to try to use his name … Has it not entered your head that your father will question you about the family you have married into, that he will want to know to which branch of Claybournes your husband belonged to, and that he may well communicate with them to offer his condolences for their relative’s loss?’ When Amanda blanched, a coldness closed on his face. ‘No, I thought not.’
‘I confess that I haven’t given it a deal of thought and I shall face it if it happens. However, because I shall be a widow, Father will have to respect one year of mourning, by which time I shall be independent of his authority and able to choose myself a husband in my own good time. At this particular moment I am impatient to leave for England. I have no wish to be in Charleston when they hang Mr Claybourne.’
Cursing Amanda to hell and back, Mr Quinn seethed as he paced the carpet. He had reasons of his own to quit Charleston at the earliest opportunity, and when Henry O’Connell had ordered their return he had looked on it as a Godsend. However, if he valued his position, he had no choice but to take part in Amanda’s subterfuge.
‘Mark my words, this spells trouble. If it is ever known what you have done, it will bring disrepute on your family—and all because of a moment of intense madness. May God help you—and me—should your father ever find out the truth. It was badly done, Amanda—badly done indeed.’
Amanda looked at the letter he was holding. ‘Is there a message for me in Father’s letter?’
‘Only that he’s arranged what he considers to be a suitable match for you—but I suppose he will have to explain to the gentleman that you are no longer available.’
‘What gentleman?’
‘It is Lord Prendergast he has in mind.’
Amanda’s mouth dropped open and her face lost all vestige of colour. ‘Lord Prendergast!’ she gasped. ‘That man is nothing but an old bag of bones. To marry him would be a fate worse than death.’
‘You might wish you had when your father gets wind of what you’ve done. You haven’t a care in the world beyond getting whatever you want out of life, have you?’
‘Which certainly isn’t Lord Prendergast.’
Faced with Mr Quinn’s wrath, for once Amanda felt afraid. She did not feel reckless or defiant now. She felt young and guilty and conscious of the seriousness of what she had done—and fear, should her father ever learn of his daughter’s deceit and scandalous marriage. But she took heart that England was an ocean away and he would never find out the true nature of her husband. Because Mr Quinn would face instant dismissal, he wouldn’t tell. Besides, it would put him in such a bad light as a chaperon.
‘There’s—something else you should know,’ he said hesitantly, ‘something that will affect you. You father’s getting married—to a Lady Caroline Brocket. She comes from a Coventry family who were loosely connected to the aristocracy. She married a baronet who died after fifteen years of marriage. There was no issue.’
Amanda froze and stared at him. ‘Married? I don’t believe it.’ She had never entertained the idea that her father would marry again, and she’d never even heard of Lady Caroline Brocket.
‘It’s true. He is also selling the house in Rochdale and moving to the country,
