“Calling upon Lady Greatheart?” he replied carefully.
“It would be the gentlemanly thing to do, you know. After all”—his mother took a delicate sip of tea—“they were almost family.”
Leave it to his mother to find the soft spot in his armor—loyalty. Damn it all, but it was the very excuse he needed to do what he wanted to do regardless. At least now he could justify the visit.
“If you insist.” He shrugged, putting the weight of the decision on his mother.
As if seeing his angle in the conversation, she hitched a shoulder. “You’re quite capable of making your own decisions, dear. I’m simply offering a suggestion.”
Quin paused, deciding a different topic of conversation was needed. “So, tell me about Rowles. I recall you mentioning his mother’s concern?”
Properly distracted, the Duchess of Wesley dove into some gossip regarding one of his dearest friends.
His Grace Rowles, Duke of Westmore, was one of his oldest friends and in a situation similar to Quin’s. Rowles’s eldest brother, the former Duke of Westmore, had shared a tragic fate with Quin’s brother. Like Quin, Rowles had then inherited his brother’s title along with the responsibilities that accompanied it. But unlike Quin’s mother, the Duchess of Westmore was not a healthy woman. After the death of her eldest, she had suffered from apoplexy and wasn’t quite the same, given to all sorts of wild imaginings. While he loved his mother dearly, Rowles was a deeply rational man and understood what was going on in his mother’s broken mind. In many ways, he had lost not only a brother, but his mother too.
“Are you listening to me?” Quin’s mother asked sharply.
Quin looked up from the small table holding the tea things. “Pardon? Er, no. I’m afraid not. I was woolgathering.”
His mother regarded him with a tip of her head and a knowing stare. “I suppose. Have you seen Rowles recently? How has he been? Ever the professor, I assume he’s still giving lectures?”
Quin nodded. “Indeed, much like myself. We can’t seem to find a way to let go of our profession.”
“You love your profession. There are worse things, dear.”
“Indeed. I believe he will be here on Saturday. He’s adopted a schedule akin to mine, dividing his time between Cambridge and London.”
“Your former life and your new… It seems fitting. After all, our past often helps define our future.” She nodded to herself. “With that bit of wisdom, I’ll take my leave. Give my affection to Rowles when you see him next.”
“I’ll be sure to do that.” Quin set his teacup down and stood as his mother started toward the door.
“Oh, and I’m hosting a small dinner party this Friday. If Rowles is in town, please let me know so I may invite him. And of course, I expect you to be in attendance.” She let her disdain speak for her.
“Of course, Mother.”
“And please, as you go to check on Lady Greatheart, remind her of my invitation. I’d love for her to attend as well.”
“Is there anything else, Mother? Your list is exceedingly long today.”
“No, that will be all,” she replied happily. “I’ll see you later, dear.”
And with that, she took her leave.
Quin watched the door click shut behind her, then exited into the hall as well.
“Ready the carriage, please.” At his butler’s nod, Quin bounded upstairs to change his ink-stained shirt. With his valet’s assistance, he was quickly ready to make the short trip to Lady Greatheart’s residence.
As he made his way to the grand white house on Grosvenor Square, a sense of relief filled him. Having his mother mention that Lady Greatheart and her granddaughter had nearly been family had clarified the odd sensation that had been haunting him. Loyalty… He felt a deep sense of loyalty to his brother’s betrothed and her family. Once promised the legacy and protection of his brother’s name, now they were left without. And while they were well established with both title and fortune, there were some things that a title and money couldn’t buy, and an important one of those was family.
Appreciation for his own kin welled within him. Difficult as it had been to walk this journey with them, he was surrounded by friends who had suffered the same loss, along with a beloved mother and kin. Lady Greatheart and Lady Catherine had only each other.
As the carriage came to a halt in front of the Greatheart residence, Quin made a silent vow to watch over the ladies of the house. It was the least he could do for Lady Catherine, and an honor he could do for his brother’s memory.Honor.The word resonated with him, gave him a peace that had long felt lost. Satisfied with his decision, he hopped from the carriage with a lighter heart and fresh purpose. It settled well with him, and the reasons to keep his distance were forgotten. Gossips be damned. Their words would eventually be proven wrong, and with that, he made his peace.
Six
Liberty can only consist in doing that which every One ought to do, and not to be constrained to do that which One ought not to do.
—Catherine the Great