A terribly executed one at that. But, holding his position, he met the butler’s stare and waited.
“I’ll escort you to the parlor, of course, Your Grace.” A slight narrowing of the butler’s eyes indicated that perhaps he didn’t fully believe Quin. But wearing the title of duke had its benefits, one of them being that no one would ever accuse him of lying.
Even when he clearly was.
“Thank you.” Quin followed him down the hall, noting the slight changes since he’d been shown to the same parlor several days prior. The servants moved about softly, quietly, as if trying to be silent. The usual bustle of a well-run household was subdued, and with foreboding, he took a seat in the parlor to wait.
Wondering if Catherine would see him.
Or if he’d be lied to, just like he’d lied to gain entrance.
Not that he had any moral ground to stand on, but he rather hoped she would trust him enough to tell him the truth, difficult as it might be.
As he waited, the silence was grating on his nerves. Tea was brought in, which he took as a good sign. Surely, if he was to be turned away, they wouldn’t be bringing in biscuits. After a good quarter hour of waiting—and a few biscuits later—the door to the parlor opened. Quin had taken a seat, but abruptly stood when he heard the turn of the doorknob. Catherine entered, and immediately he could see something was wrong. Her usually glowing countenance was lined with tension, and there was none of her usual warmth.
“Good afternoon,” she greeted him. “Please forgive my tardiness.”
Quin nodded, unsure how to continue. The candid part of him wished to inquire immediately what was amiss, but propriety dictated he wait for her to divulge the information, if she wished.
“It’s of no consequence,” he answered, studying her.
As she moved farther into the room, he noted that purplish half circles shaded her eyes, as if she hadn’t slept or at least slept well in a while. The usual easy manner with which she carried herself was absent, and he missed the sunshine that usually accompanied her.
“Brooks mentioned that I’d invited you—which we both know I did not. So I’m assuming that somehow you’ve heard the news.” She took a deep inhale of air, as if fortifying herself.
“My mother mentioned that Lady Greatheart had requested a doctor, and we were both concerned for each of you,” Quin replied, then waited to hear how much information she wished to convey. He’d long ago learned that silence was the best kind of persuasion.
“That much is true. I see the gossip moves as quickly as it always has.” A moment passed as she took a seat across from where he stood, waiting. When she sat, he followed suit and leaned forward, intent on her next words.
“My grandmother had a spell after our outing. The doctor was summoned, and we’re still waiting…” She paused, then continued, “We’re waiting for improvement of her condition.”
Quin nodded. “Did the doctor say what he thought was ailing Lady Greatheart?” he inquired.
“A stroke,” she answered softly. “So far she hasn’t worsened, which is good, but neither has she improved, which isn’t.” Keeping her eyes downcast, she served herself tea, stirring the sugar in delicately, as if thankful for something to keep her hands busy.
“Catherine, is there anything that I or my family can do to be of assistance?” he asked, watching as she took a sip of the steaming liquid.
She set the teacup back in the saucer, where it made a soft clinking sound. “I thank you for the kind offer. But I’ve already been in contact with my grandmother’s solicitor, upon the suggestion of the doctor. I’ll be meeting with him later this afternoon,” she finished.
Quin nodded. “May I accompany you?” he asked.
Catherine glanced up abruptly, her eyes studying him. “Pardon?”
Quin treaded carefully, knowing it would be easy for his intentions to be misread. “You’re a very intelligent and capable woman, Catherine. But sometimes it helps to have another set of ears when dealing with such information. I speak from experience,” he added meaningfully.
She nodded. “You’re right, of course. But I couldn’t ask it of you. It’s not your responsibility.”
“You didn’t ask. I offered, and it would be my pleasure to be of assistance,” Quin stated, hoping she’d accept his offer. Solicitors were curious folk and tended to speak in little better than circles. He’d dealt with his share of them after his brother passed and didn’t look forward to any of those meetings.
“Then I accept your kind offer,” Catherine responded. “If you’re sure you don’t have any prior engagements for this afternoon.”
“None,” Quin answered swiftly.
“Then I’ll excuse myself so I can be ready. The solicitor will arrive in about a half hour.”
“I’ll await your return.” Quin nodded, watching as she left, her shoulders back and head high. The weight of the world had settled upon those delicate shoulders, but she didn’t bear the weight with resentment, just faced the difficult road ahead with dignity. He respected that. It was bloody hard to face indecision and not let it conquer the spirit.
Helping himself to another biscuit and more tea, he awaited her return, considering all the legalities that lay before her. Hoping that the road ahead was easier than the one behind her.