in order that the principal rooms could be prepared, so he was not surprised to find a good blaze in the hearth. He lowered Serena gently into a chair beside the fire and she huddled into her shawl, leaning towards the flames. She barely seemed to notice him.
His housekeeper came bustling in and he explained without preamble.
‘I found Miss Russington at the Swan. She is very distressed and I need you to take care of her, Mrs Talbot. She will need a hot brick for her bed.’ He glanced down at the dishevelled figure hunched over the fire. ‘And a bath.’
‘Aye, of course, my lord. I always make sure there is hot water when you are due back, but ’tis only enough for one. And...’ She stopped, consternation in every line of her kindly face.
‘Yes?’
‘Everything is set up in your dressing room, my lord. I can easily have the hip bath removed to the guest room, but there is no fire burning there and it will take a time to get it warm.’
‘Bathe her in my rooms, then, while you have the guest room prepared. And be sure to have a bed made up in there for one of the maids. She must not be left alone—do you understand me? I will remain here until you have finished.’
‘Very good, my lord.’ The housekeeper turned to Serena. ‘Come along then, my dear, let us get you into a warm bath and you will soon feel better. And perhaps we’ll find you a little soup afterwards, what do you say to that?’
Serena made no response, but she allowed Mrs Talbot to help her out of the room. Quinn threw himself into the vacated chair. All this was a damned nuisance, but what else could he do? A hired coach would have taken several hours to get her back to town and, aside from the perils of making such a journey alone and at night, there was no telling what distress she would be in by the time she reached her home. He was not prepared to have that on his conscience.
It would not do for him to remain here, though. As soon as the women had finished with his dressing room he would pack himself a bag and remove to Prior’s Holt. Tony Beckford and his wife were still in London, but the staff there knew him well and would not deny him, even at this late hour. He closed his eyes, too tired to consider anything more right now.
* * *
An hour later Mrs Talbot’s tactful cough roused Quinn from his sleep.
He sat up in the chair, saying irritably, ‘What is it now?’
‘I beg your pardon, my lord, but ’tis the young lady. She is still in the bath. I’ve built up the fires in the guest room—and in your bedroom, too, my lord—but the bathwater is turning cold now. I’ve looked out one of my dressing gowns for her, too, but she won’t budge. I’m afraid she will catch a chill if we don’t get her dry soon.’
‘For heaven’s sake, woman, can’t you get her out of the water?’
‘Every time anyone goes near her she screams fit to bust.’ The housekeeper wrung her hands. ‘She keeps scrubbing away at herself, sir, and muttering. I’m sure I don’t know what to do for the best.’
Smothering an oath Quinn pushed himself to his feet. ‘Very well, let me see her.’
* * *
The steamy warmth of the dressing room hit Quinn as soon as he entered. Serena was sitting in the hip bath but facing away from him, the smooth skin of her neck and shoulders golden in the candlelight. Someone had pinned up her fair curls to keep them dry and she was rubbing at her arms with the sponge. A young maid was in attendance, watching Serena with an almost frightened intensity. A screen was set up to protect the bather from the draughty window and thrown over it was a large towel and a bundle of white cotton that he assumed was Mrs Talbot’s dressing gown.
The housekeeper picked up the towel, saying cheerily, ‘Now then, miss, time we wrapped you in this nice warm sheet.’
‘I am not yet clean.’ Serena rubbed even harder at her arms.
‘You’ll take the skin off if you scrub yourself any more, miss. Come along.’
Serena lashed out, shrieking, and Mrs Talbot backed away, turning an anguished face to Quinn. He took the towel from her.
‘Leave us, both of you.’
The maid scuttled out, followed more slowly by the housekeeper, and Quinn moved around until he was facing Serena. There was a livid bruise on one cheek and she had rubbed her arms until they were red, but he saw marks on her neck and arms that had not been caused by the constant scouring. He wished now that he had spent longer punishing Forsbrook rather than knocking him out with a single blow. Serena ignored him and continued to rub the sponge over her body. He knelt beside her.
‘Miss Russington, Serena, you must get out and dry yourself.’
‘No, no, not until I have washed it away. I c-can still feel his h-hands on me.’
Quinn gently touched her cheek. ‘Did he do this?’
She pulled her head away but did not answer him. Instead she gripped the sponge even tighter as she scrubbed at her skin.
‘What did he do to you, Serena? Tell me,’ he commanded.
She stilled, although she did not look at him. A shudder rippled through her.
‘He k-kissed me. When I told him to stop he—he laughed and t-tore my gown. Then he grabbed me.’ She put her hands over her breasts.
‘Did he do anything else? Serena?’
He spoke sharply, demanding a response and she gave a tiny shake of her head.
‘He—he tried, but I scratched and bit him. That was when he hit me. Then he t-tried to ch-choke me.’
Her hands crept to her throat and Quinn felt his anger growing. He fought it down.
He said calmly, ‘You showed great courage, Serena, but you must be brave again now. We must get you dry or you will be very ill and all your fighting will be in vain. You do not want that to happen, do you?’ He had her attention now. Her dark eyes were fixed on him. He rose and held out one hand. ‘Come.’
He held her gaze, willing her to obey. Slowly she took his proffered hand and rose from the water. He had the impression of a womanly form, all soft curves and creamy skin, but he kept his eyes on her face. She was on the verge of hysteria and the slightest error on his part could overset her. As she stepped out of the hip bath he wrapped her in the towel. She did not move but looked up at him with eyes so full of trust that the constriction around his chest was like an iron band. Panic shot through him. She was relying upon him to act honourably and just for a moment he doubted his ability to do so.
She stood motionless while Quinn dried her body, steeling himself not to linger over those luscious curves. When he had finished he dragged the wrap from the screen.
‘Put this on. It belongs to Mrs Talbot, so it will be far too large, but it will keep you warm.’ Briskly he helped her into the dressing gown and knotted the belt. He tried not to think about her tiny waist or how easily his hands could span it.
‘There, now you are—’ He had been about to say respectable but that was wholly inappropriate. And untrue. Even in the voluminous robe,
