“Lady Catherine.” The older man nodded, gesturing for her to enter. “Her Grace is expecting you in the parlor. If you’ll follow me.”
Catherine thanked him and trailed behind as he traveled down the hall. It hadn’t been so long ago that she’d been here with her grandmother for the Duchess of Wesley’s dinner party, but it felt like a lifetime. So much had changed. Yet even before that, it had seemed like a lifetime since she’d said goodbye to Avery, since they all had said that final goodbye. The butler turned and opened a double door, allowing light to spill into the hall.
“Lady Catherine Greatheart,” he announced as she walked into the parlor. Immediately, she saw the Duchess of Wesley, who had risen from her place on the sofa and was striding forward to welcome her.
“My dear, that dress is even lovelier than I remember.” The Duchess of Wesley took her hands and squeezed them in greeting.
“Thank you,” Catherine replied, then took in the rest of the room. They weren’t alone, and a pair of green eyes caught her attention.
Quin.
He was standing beside a tall table, his posture relaxed as he offered her a welcoming grin. Like a warm bath, it relaxed her tight nerves and gave her a dose of the welcome familiar. “Good evening.”
He raised his glass. “Good evening to you too.”
“I didn’t realize you had returned from Cambridge,” she said welcomingly.
“Just today. My mother had important business.” He gestured to the room.
“I see,” Catherine replied, scanning the room. The butler announced another person, and Catherine turned at the mention of his name.
“His Grace the Duke of Westmore.”
“Rowles!” The Duchess of Wesley moved past her to welcome the gentleman. Catherine turned, studying the man who was on the list of the Duchess of Wesley’s gentlemen of interest. He was taller than Quin, and far leaner in build, almost slight. His blond hair waved over his forehead in the latest fashion, and blue eyes met hers with a flare of appreciation. Mischief danced in those cool depths; it was an interesting revelation.
The Duchess of Wesley made the introductions.
“Come, Rowles. I don’t think you’ve met my dear friend, Lady Catherine Greatheart.”
“A pleasure.” He bent in a bow and took Catherine’s hand. His voice was deeper than she’d expected, in contrast to his size. A baritone if he were to sing, she suspected.
“A pleasure, Your Grace,” Catherine replied, unable to hide the fullness of her smile. So much for being coy.
“Rowles.” Quin’s voice interrupted Catherine’s thoughts, and she turned to him as he approached their small circle. “It’s been too long. How are you?”
Quin spoke with the familiarity of an old friend, and Catherine wondered at the history of the two. And furthermore, had the Duchess of Wesley made a list of suitable gentlemen based on Quin’s friends? That would certainly be an interesting twist.
“Doing well! I hear from Morgan that you’ve just returned from Cambridge.” He shrugged good-naturedly.
Catherine watched as Quin’s eyes narrowed.
“Morgan, eh? He’s certainly been busy.” His eyes flickered to her, then back. He looked as if he wished to say something more, then thought better of it. “It’s good to see you. Claret?” Quin lifted his glass at the query.
The Duke of Westmore nodded, and the two gentlemen walked toward the sideboard.
“I’ve known him since he was a boy. Good man, good family.” The Duchess of Wesley murmured so softly Catherine had to concentrate to hear her. “His mother is unwell, but he keeps his spirits up.”
Catherine nodded to signal she’d heard. They had something in common then—an ailing loved one. She compared him to Quin, then realized what she was doing and turned her attention elsewhere.
The evening continued in much the same fashion, with the gentlemen on the list arriving one by one, to be introduced to her and then taken away by Quin so that the Duchess of Wesley could give her a few details.
It was a smooth process, and Catherine wondered how much Quin was aware that he played such a part in the whole orchestration.
Was he privy to the whole plan? If so, how did he feel about it? Did he encourage it? The thought went against the grain, and she pushed aside her unease. Why did it matter if he assisted? He was a friend, was he not?
Yet as the evening came to an end and the events began to swirl together, Catherine considered one truth.
In the middle of all of it, the only time she’d been at rest was when Quin was near.