At this, Morgan looked up, his expression amused. “Countryman?”
Quin waved his hand. “You know what I mean.”
“Damn, Quin. You’re old. No wonder you aren’t interested.” Morgan stood, adjusting his coat.
“Interested?” Quin repeated before he thought better of the word. No need to open that conversation. “Never mind.”
“That’s what I thought.” Morgan gave a bemused leer and nodded. “I’ll let you know what I find out.”
Quin’s hands clenched into fists at the knowing expression on his friend’s face. Bastard. But rather than fall into Morgan’s verbal trap, he nodded. “Thank you.”
“Ever the gentleman… I’m sure that will serve you well,” Morgan said just before he quit the room. Leaving the words hanging in the air. Leaving Quin to wonder just what his friend had meant by such a thing. Hewasa gentleman. So was Morgan, and their friend Rowles… But there was something in his words that made Quin pause, wondering if maybe there was a time and place for gentlemanly behavior.
And a time and place to be without it.
But he disregarded the words, choosing to ignore whatever implication his friend had left in the room. He had more important things to do. While Morgan was investigating Lord Bircham, Quin was going to do his own investigating.
One could never be too cautious.
But first he was going to take a much-needed trip to the university.
It had been a few months, and he wanted to address the fact that he wasn’t going to be teaching for the next year or so. He’d said as much in his resignation letter. The university had been exceedingly kind, explaining they would welcome him back whenever he was able to teach once more.
A wave of disappointment flowed through him, and he wished his life could be different. He had tried to do both—handle the dukedom and teach—but one or the other suffered for his efforts. And that wasn’t fair to his family or his students. He’d had to make a choice.
Rather, life had made it for him.
He opted to walk to the university rather than ride in his carriage, giving him time before he had to say goodbye for now. The butler followed Quin to the door, offering a black umbrella. “Just in case, Your Grace.”
Quin took the long wooden handle and nodded his thanks. As he stepped through the open door, the cloud-filtered sunlight illuminated the street before him. Taking the steps one by one, he tucked the umbrella under his arm and started down Canterbury Street. Few were out walking, and even fewer carriages rolled by as he passed through the neighborhood. Turning onto the main road, he noticed the traffic increased, and he shifted the umbrella from under his arm to use as a cane as he made his way through the people toward the city center. The narrow medieval streets fanned out from the larger thoroughfares, all filing into the main hub of Cambridge where the colleges could be found.
Cambridge was a unique town in many ways, but its university was the main attraction for most. With over thirty colleges, it was spread out through the city center, each building housing a different discipline in education. As Quin approached Castle Street, he took a few side streets to intersect with Queen’s Road. He allowed the sweet serenity of the large green courts in front of the colleges to relax him. It was a soothing sight, and he welcomed the familiarity of it all. How many times had he made the same walk, ambling through the streets, taking in the scenes? How much longer till he could resume?
But that wasn’t to be, not for now. He passed a small side street from Queen’s Road, passing several colleges as he made his way toward the library. As he passed, he could almost smell the history, and memories of studying in the sacred halls filled him with longing.
Pushing onward, he paused in front of the library, its knowledge and respite calling to him. He could lose himself in there, and maybe find the piece that seemed missing from his heart as well. It wasn’t likely, a dark whisper suggested, for the missing piece was back in London. He silenced the traitorous thought. So much of life was what one chose to focus on.
He kept reminding himself of that truth.
With a reluctant pace, he walked up the long path to the entrance of the building and murmured a prayer that he’d return soon.
Saying hello rather than goodbye again.
Sixteen
I may be kindly, I am ordinarily gentle, but in my line of business I am obliged to will terribly what I will at all.
—Catherine the Great
Catherine was pleased with the adjustment she’d made to the dresses she had ordered with her grandmother. Longing spread through her. How she wished her grandmother were with her now!
She had asked the modiste to alter the cut of several gowns to something not too scandalous but definitely flirtatious. And for the first time, she wished she was a widow, to have lost a husband rather than a fiancé. As terrible as it sounded, that would have been much easier to navigate. As a widow, she would have control over her estate, her life, and her future. But that wasn’t to be, and she was also glad that she hadn’t suffered that deep a loss. It was hard enough to have lost Avery as her betrothed; part of her heart whispered it would have been far worse if he had been her husband.
And at least she had one aspect that could work in her favor, that couldn’t be taken from her. She had to give it: her virginity. It was a priceless commodity.
She dislodged the heavy thoughts and took the stairs to her rooms, instructing the footman to deposit her packages where her maid could unpack them.
She tugged off her gloves, slipping them off her fingers as she halted by her grandmother’s door. With a gentle twist, she turned the knob and moved silently into the darkened room. The maid who was attending her grandmother stood at her entrance, but Catherine waved her off silently, and the woman went back to her darning in the chair beside her grandmother.