He was struck by how badly he wanted to come home to her. A huge wave of affection and tenderness washed over him. “I will try my utmost.”
“I suppose that will have to do,” Venetia said grudgingly. “At least tell me exactly what you and Hawkhurst have planned.”
Settling with Venetia on the sofa, Quinn proceeded to outline the details of their trap. An hour later as he went upstairs to his bedchamber to prepare for the afternoon ahead, he let his mind drift back to her urgent kiss and contemplated how far they had come in less than a month—from Venetia threatening to shoot him to kissing him ardently of her own free will.
He had come a vast distance himself. How far? He’d started by seeing her as a challenge, but now he wanted so much more.
The thought brought Quinn up short in the middle of tying his cravat. He wanted a future with Venetia.
And yet…what he wanted wasn’t really the question. The question was, could he give Venetia what she wanted? He would have to promise her fidelity, which would be no problem. Honor alone would keep him faithful, and with a woman like her, he would never want to stray.
She wanted love, however.
Loving her wasn’t beyond the realm of possibility. He was a Wilde after all. Love and passion were in his bones.
He already felt a deepening affection for her. He’d become addicted to having her around, in his life. In truth, he could see himself with her several years from now, even decades from now, having children, growing old together. A bigger truth? He wanted a real marriage with her. He wanted Venetia as his wife forever.
Forever.
Something clutched hard in the region of Quinn’s heart. He was falling in love, he realized. He should have recognized the tenderness he felt for Venetia, the need to keep her from harm, to cherish her always.
Quinn shook his head in wonder. He couldn’t believe he was succumbing to his convenient bride.
But was his capitulation really so miraculous? Before meeting Venetia, he was determined to remain in control of his own destiny, refusing to become the unlucky victim of unrequited love again, to make himself so damned vulnerable. He’d thought he could escape any deep emotional entanglements with Venetia, yet he was being drawn in more irrevocably each day. She had chipped away steadily at his cool cynicism, thawing the ice in his heart with her warmth and caring. From the first, he had admired her inner fire, her passion, her devotion to her sister…and now he wanted that same devotion for himself.
Quinn made a scoffing sound that was part ridicule, part chuckle. He had been lured into his own courtship.
Indeed, it was possible that he could never have escaped his fate. Perhaps Kate was right: Venetia was his ideal match. The kind of perfect fit his sister and his cousins Ash and Jack had found. Admittedly they were content and fulfilled in a way that he never had been.
His parents had known that remarkable contentment. An image flashed in Quinn’s memory, the love and devotion in his parents’ eyes as they gazed at each other, the pure happiness.
He wanted to have that same happiness with Venetia.
He couldn’t force her to love him, certainly. But he wouldn’t let her current resistance stop him. He’d grown up knowing the best kind of marriage, and no other sort would do for him. When this was all over, he intended to claim her as his own, and he would let nothing and no one stand in his way.
—
Even though her heart was not in her work, Venetia returned to her studio. She was already vexed and on edge, and her nerves would be shredded if she had to wait idly all afternoon for Quinn’s safe return from the boxing match.
She would much rather have occupied herself by seeking Cleo’s advice about winning her husband’s love, but she decided against a visit. Not only would the journey to Cleo’s isolated country home in Kensington be too risky with the assassin still at large, her friend would not be happy to hear how drastically her feelings toward her marriage had changed. No doubt Cleo would try to dissuade her from her goal.
It was something of a relief, therefore, when two hours later a message arrived from Ophelia, pleading for help standing up to their mother in the matter of prospective suitors.
At least she could be of some use to her sister, Venetia rationalized. And she had armed guards to protect her. Furthermore, her parents lived much closer than Cleo, in a bustling part of town. Helping Ophelia would keep her from going mad waiting helplessly at home for word from Quinn.
When she arrived at her parents’ home, Ophelia launched into her complaints at once. “Oh, Venetia, thank you for coming! Mama is being completely intractable. I favor one gentleman, but she objects for no good reason and wishes me to embrace an altogether different choice. I pray you will speak to her and convince her she is mistaken.”
Venetia made soothing comments to temper Ophelia’s frustration, and once she understood the particulars, agreed to referee their argument and talk to their mother. But she kept an eye on the mantel clock the entire time, and her unsettled thoughts kept drifting as she wondered how Quinn was faring with his scheme to root out the killer.
It was going to be a very long afternoon.
—
The boxing match had the festive atmosphere of a country fair. Vendors hawked meat pies and gingerbread and ale near a low wooden platform, which had been roped off to form a ring. Large crowds milled around, betting on the outcome between two professional bruisers.
At the start, the contest seemed fairly even, with the hulking combatants bobbing and weaving and landing bare-knuckled jabs to the shouts and whistles of the spectators, then graduating to more powerful blows that would have instantly felled lesser men.
Quinn kept one eye on the match, another on the crowd. Occasionally he spied Hawk, who moved among the throng keeping watch. The local champion won, to the delight of the crowd. At the conclusion, Quinn managed to separate himself from his footmen as planned, and strolled across the grass field without escort, toward his waiting carriage.