“Of course not,” Quin replied, then set aside his pen, marked his position in the ledger, and stood. Adjusting his coat, he shrugged it into proper place and then tugged on his cuffs by turns. What was it about one’s mother that made all the proper mannerisms come to the forefront? He followed the butler out into the hall and down toward the parlor where his mother waited.
“Ah, Mother, to what do I owe the pleasure?” Quin asked as he walked into the room, taking note that his mother had already requested tea and biscuits be sent in.
“Do I always need a reason to converse with my son?” his mother asked, arching a brow as she took a delicate sip from her teacup.
“No, but I find it’s usually the case,” Quin answered.
“Tea?”
“Yes, thank you,” he replied.
As his mother poured the tea then handed it to him, her expression was a mix of curiosity and concern. “You left quite suddenly last night.”
Quin took a sip of the steaming liquid. He’d had a feeling this was the direction the conversation would take. “Indeed. It was a good thing, too. Lady Catherine was having one of your ‘can’t breathe’ fits in the hall,” he answered succinctly. Let his mother know that he’d had a valid reason for his exit.
“Dear me.” She leaned back, her expression clouded. “Did you help her?”
“Of course, and she came through it quite quickly, but it took a toll. Though I think Lady Greatheart suffered even more than Lady Catherine did.”
“I’m glad you offered your assistance. I’m sure they were grateful as well.”
“They were, of course.”
His mother gave a delicate sniff. “And as for your quick exit, I made proper excuses, so the gossip should be at a minimum,” she added, almost as an afterthought.
“Pardon?” Quin nearly choked on his tea.
“The gossip. Surrounding your hasty disappearance after Lady Catherine fled the scene looking quite ill…” His mother started to paint the picture of the scene as it had unfolded.
Good heavens. He had never thought people might misread the situation so badly.
But hearing his mother’s interpretation, he saw it clearly.
His brother’s former fiancé, feeling ill and leaving, only to have him follow her soon after without any comment…
“What did you say?” Quin asked, stunned by the depth of the realization. This could be dreadfully uncomfortable, especially for Lady Catherine. Hadn’t she suffered enough? Hadn’t he? Must people always draw conclusions?
“I said you were checking on the welfare of Lady Catherine because of Lady Greatheart’s age. When you didn’t return, I had a servant come over, told him to leave then return in three minutes and pretend to whisper something to me. He did exactly that, and once he left, I announced that after assisting Lady Greatheart, you sent word that you needed to address some business with the dukedom…so, of course, everyone nodded reverently and carried on with their conversations.” She flicked her wrist as if dismissing the whole situation.
Quin nodded. “Do you think people will concoct a story regarding Lady Catherine?”
His mother gave him a disbelieving expression. “Dear, they will always concoct stories. They can be based on fact or fiction, but stories there will be. You need to decide how much stock you’ll put in their words.”
Quin took a sip of tea. “She doesn’t need any more people talking.”
His mother paused, studying him for a moment. “No, no, she doesn’t.” She set her teacup down. “Speaking of Catherine, have you inquired after her?”
Quin studied his teacup, the amber liquid swirling with a slight hint of steam. “No. I wasn’t sure it would be…prudent.” In truth, he had nearly called upon her twice. There was a…kinship…that he felt with her, and it was comforting, as ironic as it seemed. He had justified his inclination to visit her with several valid arguments, but there was one reason to resist—the talk it could create.
Already he knew the gossip would surround her reappearance into society, both with her visit to Hyde Park and then his mother’s party. He didn’t want to add to the chatter.
But it seemed he had done that already, unbeknownst to him. If he had realized earlier, he wouldn’t have had such persuasive reasons for not calling upon her.
It was for the best, however.
He turned to his mother, her look contemplative as she studied him with a clarity that was unnerving. Damn, when she did that it was like she was reading his thoughts, bloody uncomfortable.
“But you have considered it?”