• Kind to his mother/sisters
She studied the list and frowned. That was pretty much every other lady’s list; there wasn’t anything unique about it. She doubted anyone wanted a gambling and abusive man—but she needed,wantedsomething more than she could articulate.
Love?
Of course, but she wasn’t going to hold out for it. She’d had it once, or close enough. She wanted…
The word hit her with a solid thump in her chest, setting her heart to pounding. A partnership. Not a legal obligation. Not a man to officiate her life. Someone to walk beside her, to listen to her. Heavens, was that asking too much? To have a husband who could take advice from a woman? She grimaced. It shouldn’t be asking too much, but she wondered if maybe it was still difficult to find in a London ballroom. Perhaps she needed more from the Duchess of Wesley than merely information on her cousin. Maybe she needed information on other things too. Other people.
Could she do it? Take that step? Did she dare ask her almost-mother-in-law about other men? Did she have anyone else to ask? No. She didn’t. So, with a bit of a hysterical chuckle, she realized she was going to do the unthinkable. Ask the woman who was going to be her mother-in-law for help on finding a husband.
Good Lord.
She was either making a brilliant plan or a fatal error. And the worst part was that she wouldn’t know till later. She’d need to wrestle with the decision for hours yet, if not days.
But if it worked…
The hope of that echoed through her, filling her and pushing back the fear. The risk was far outweighed by the reward. And right now she needed an ally. She only hoped she’d made the right decision in who.
Fifteen
“Interesting note you sent.” Morgan waved it in the air as he strode into Quin’s study.
Quin set the newspaper down, folding his hands as he greeted his friend. “Good day to you as well.”
“Good day.” Morgan arched a brow. “I knew there was something going on when I saw you two.” He waggled his brows as he approached the desk.
Quin frowned at his friend’s words. “What do you mean?”
Morgan shrugged. “You and Lady Catherine. You were quite cozy in the park.”
Quin stiffened in his chair. “I’m not sure what you’re insinuating.” Thankfully, he hadn’t dreamed anything exceptional last night, merely a blur of color he couldn’t remember when he awoke. But the dream of Catherine wasn’t so far in the past that he didn’t recollect it with stunning clarity. As soon as Morgan’s words implied some attachment to Catherine, Quin’s body tensed.
“Fine, whatever you wish to deny is your choice, but at least explain this.” He set the letter on the desk and tucked his hands in his pockets.
Quin chose not to pursue the first line of conversation and nodded toward the letter. “I need information. It’s just that simple.”
“On Bircham. Why?” Morgan shifted, then sat down in the chair across from Quin’s desk.
Quin proceeded to explain the situation to his friend, careful to convey an almost professional interest in Catherine’s circumstance.
Bloody hell, he even sounded stuffy to his own ears.
As if sensing the care with which Quin spoke, Morgan leaned back in his chair, regarding his friend with a pensive expression. “Very well.”
Quin released the tension in his shoulders and relaxed slightly. “So you’ll look into it?”
Morgan nodded. “Yes, it won’t be difficult.” He continued to study his comrade.
Quin’s skin itched at the way his friend regarded him. “Is there something more?”
Morgan frowned. “Just thinking.”
“About?” Quin asked, his patience wearing thin.
Morgan picked a piece of lint off his coat sleeve and shrugged. “It sounds like she needs a husband.”
Quin clenched his jaw. “Yes, but she doesn’t need to run headlong into marriage just to avoid whatever character her cousin is. For all we know, he’s an upstanding countryman. This might all be for naught.”