Chapter Twenty
Allison waited all day for Lucien to summon her. She’d actually been surprised Adrian hadn’t taken her directly to their older brother and had allowed her to go back to Jocelyn’s. She hadn’t slept at all last night, her mind spinning with all the ramifications of having been caught out alone with Quinn in the middle of the night.
This morning, she’d told Jocelyn, Evelyn, and Heather what had happened, and while they’d all been very supportive—though dismayed by her foolhardy, reckless actions—they’d all thought she should marry Quinn.
Jocelyn seemed a bit worried that Allison’s shame might be reflected upon her since Allison was her house guest, though she hadn’t actually said as much. As a result, Allison was waiting anxiously to hear back from her solicitor about whether the owner of the house she wanted to buy would let her move in and pay rent until the actual sale went through. She simply couldn’t remain dependent on her friend. Not with the storm of scandal that was about to rain down on her.
During the afternoon, she tried desperately to read a book, but she couldn’t read more than half a page before her mind would drift back to Quinn and the time they’d spent together in recent weeks.
If I married him, we could make love whenever we wanted, and I wouldn’t have to worry about having a baby.
The idea of having babies with Quinn O’Brien was not nearly as frightening as it should have been. Were her friends right? Did she want a family more than she wanted to be able to make decisions about her own money?
Perhaps deep down, she did.
With a huff, she tossed her book aside, giving up the pretense. Moving to her bed, she laid down on her back, staring up at the beautiful mural on the ceiling. For so long, she’d envied Jocelyn’s life. As a widow, her friend was free to do whatever she wanted. But truthfully, the only time Jocelyn seemed happy was when she was with her baby.
And Allison couldn’t forget the way it had felt to be in Quinn’s arms. To feel safe and protected, desired and cared for. Everything had happened so quickly last night; she hadn’t really had a chance to think about their time together, the honesty he’d given her, even when it meant she’d called things to a halt.
Not all men would have treated her as respectfully as he had when faced with her willingness to be intimate with him. She owed him more than just gratitude, though; she owed him her respect and trust as well. And she’d never really trusted anyone before him.
Her eyes flooded with tears as she realized that her thoughtless need to have her way, to take a lover if she wanted one, had put Quinn in an impossible situation. Adrian had demanded that Quinn present himself to Lucien this morning. No doubt Lucien had bullied him into agreeing to marry her, even though Quinn probably wanted that even less than she did.
A soft knock at her door had her scrambling to a sitting position just as Heather stuck her head in. “I just thought I’d come up and see how you’re doing.”
“I’m not doing well at all,” Allison cried without preamble, feeling as though she’d ruined everything. “What am I going to do?”
“You need to talk to Quinn,” Heather said emphatically, stepping inside and shutting the door behind her. “You need to know what Lucien said to him and how he feels about it.”
“I can’t go to his house again. I don’t think he’d appreciate that at all after everything that’s happened.” Allison bit her lip, knowing she’d die of embarrassment if she showed up and he shut the door in her face. And she wouldn’t really blame him, given everything that had happened. She’d put him in a terrible situation.
“Why don’t you send Joseph with an invitation for him to come speak to you here?” Heather asked reasonably. “Jocelyn and I can act as chaperones, and that will leave it up to him. If he doesn’t come, you’ll know he didn’t care enough to fight for you or that he’s so angry about Lucien’s decree that he doesn’t want to even see you.”
Allison nodded slowly, taken by the idea of him coming into her world for once. When she received him, she didn’t want to be dressed in her oldest clothes. She wanted to be at her best for this weighty conversation that had perhaps been building between them for too long.
Heather leaned forward and hugged her tightly. “I think you love this man, Allison.”
Love. The word made her feel sick to her stomach. “I don’t know if I even know what that feels like,” she whispered. “All I know is that I don’t want to lose him. The thought of never seeing him again is nearly as frightening as the idea of being forced to marry him.”
“If you end up together, does it really matter how you got there?” Heather asked. “Do you think it’s possible that the two of you could just be happy?”
In theory, she supposed Heather was right, but when Allison thought of all the obstacles that lay between them, she wasn’t at all confident they could ever make it work.
* * *
AFTER LEAVING WORK that afternoon, Quinn went straight home and collapsed upon his bed with a sigh. It had once again been nearly thirty-six hours since he’d slept, and he knew he had to quit doing this to himself.
He must have fallen asleep fairly quickly because he awoke to the sound of someone pounding on his front door. He shot straight up in bed, then gasped, grasping his head with his hands as waves of pain and dizziness swept over him. He glanced at the clock on his nightstand and saw that only three hours had passed since he’d laid down.
Groaning, he got up, then stomped down the stairs, cursing under his breath.
Throwing open the door, he found Constable Pond on the front steps.
“Beggin’ your pardon, sir,” the excitable dark-haired young man told him apologetically. “I hate to wake you, but Sergeant Ness said you must come with me quick. We’ve found Daisy Upton. She’s dead just like Polly.”
“What?” Quinn blinked, his heart sinking as he slowly processed what Pond had just said. “Daisy’s dead?”
Pond nodded. “I’m afraid so, sir. All cut up, just like Polly. There was a picture too. The sergeant is pretty certain it’s the same killer.”