Page 41 of When the Scoundrel Sins

Quinton shook his head. “He was here long enough to answer our questions about his intentions toward Belle.”

“And about the state of his finances,” Robert added stepping forward. “I know businessmen, Aunt Agatha. I’m one of them. So I know when a man is pretending to know more about financial matters than he actually does.”

Lady Ainsley tossed up her hands. “You cannot fault a man for wanting to improve his lot in life through marriage!”

“No,” Quinn replied. “But wecanfault the man for not knowing what to do with the financial gain once he possesses it. And for exaggerating his current business interests and fortune.”

“Lying,” Robert corrected bluntly.

Quinn summarized quietly, “He wasn’t worthy of Annabelle.”

Belle’s startled gaze darted to him, and their eyes met. He held her gaze for several long heartbeats, long enough for butterflies to flutter inside her. And not just at the dark flicker in his eyes as he stared at her hungrily, as if he wanted to do nothing more at that moment than pull her into the library and kiss her senseless.

No—it was the protection he was offering, however misguided, that filled her with warmth and happiness. She hadn’t expected that. And she liked it. Far more than she should have.

“You asked the man about divorce.” Utter bewilderment darkened the viscountess’s face. “What doesthathave to do with whether he’s a fortune hunter?”

“We asked if he could ever foresee a situation in which he would seek a separation or divorce from Belle,” Robert clarified.

Their aunt stared at the two as if they’d just sprouted a third head between them. “Why in heaven’s name would you ask him that?”

“Not just him. We’ve asked all the gentlemen that,” Robert said. “A determinate test to judge their character.”

“But divorce is nearly impossible to obtain,” Lady Ainsley reminded them. “Especially if the wife protests, which I am certain Belle would do.”

Belle wasn’t so certain of that herself.

“But separation isn’t.” Quinton said quietly, his gaze returning to Belle, “Under the law, the estate would become his, and he’s no longer shackled to a wife he never wanted in the first place.”

“Notif it’s contracted in the dower,” Lady Ainsley reminded them. “And it will be. I’ll make certain of it.”

“Which was going to be the next question put to him,” Robert informed them.

“‘Would you sign a marriage settlement in which all of Miss Greene’s property remains hers to oversee and the profits held in trust for her alone?’” Quinton’s gaze never moved from her, and the warmth that his possessiveness had flared inside her was now downright blazing.

“But he didn’t make it that far.” Robert had the good sense to look sheepish beneath his aunt’s imposing stare.

“Obviously,” Lady Ainsley muttered.

“He did the same as all the other gentlemen when we put the question to him.” Quinton tore his gaze away from Belle to answer his aunt, and Belle palpably felt the loss of its heat. “Adamantly swore he’d never petition to divorce her, no matter what happened between them—”

“Became righteously indignant that we’d dare ask such a thing—”

Instead of finishing his brother’s sentence, Quinn hesitated. He looked at Robert before saying thoughtfully, “Except one.”

“One?” Belle asked, unable to keep the dejection from her voice. They’d spent the entire week interviewing potential husbands, and they’d only foundoneman they’d deemed suitable for her? The warmth inside her chest vanished, replaced by a cold misery. With no other solution in sight to save Glenarvon except marriage, Belle didn’t have much time left to find a good husband, and they’d wasted an entire week. “Who?”

“George Smalley.”

“George…” She choked on the name. A freehold farmer to the north of Braeburn, Mr. Smalley was a widower thrice over and over two decades Belle’s senior. Her hands drew into helpless fists at her sides as she demanded, “Why him?”

“He’s the only one so far who answered the question correctly. When we asked him if he would ever divorce you, he shrugged.”

“He shrugged?” Lady Ainsley’s shrill voice echoed through the entry hall in astonishment. “Thatwas the correct answer—ashrug?”

Robert explained, “Or at least not to protest so vehemently what they would do in the unseen future. Any man who protests that much has certainly considered doing just that.”

Lady Ainsley stared hard at Quinton. “And is that theonlyreason you’ve been chasing away the men who have come to call on Annabelle?”