“Quin?” His mother’s voice shattered his fragmented thoughts further, and he turned to the sound of her voice, immediately thankful she was at the doorway, far enough away not to see his surely tormented expression clearly.
“Yes?” He cleared his throat, feigning some semblance of normalcy while his mind was still suffering from shock and rolling through the consequences of his actions.
All the while his body demanded more of Catherine’s kiss.
His mother started toward him, and Quin straightened his coat, certain he didn’t look even as presentable as he felt—which wasn’t much. After all, he’d been asleep on the sofa for heaven knew how long.
“Where have you been? I thought you’d left hours ago.” Nearer now, she studied him, cocking her head to the side as a mother did when studying a wayward child.
“I…” Quin thought quickly.Ah hell, no way now but through it.“I had fallen asleep, if you must know.” He shrugged, playing off the words as casual.
“Oh.” She regarded him steadily, her expression schooled. “I’m glad you did. You’ve been awfully pale. I was concerned that perhaps you’d been ill in Cambridge.” She clucked her tongue. “Oh well, nothing a good rest won’t fix.” She stilled and creased her forehead. “Catherine must not have seen you. She was here gathering books to borrow.” She tapped her finger on her lips. “You always were a sound and quiet sleeper. I doubt I would have found you if you hadn’t stood up. It’s quite a large library, after all.”
“Indeed,” Quin replied, at a loss. Let his mother draw her own conclusions; it would be far safer that way.
“Regardless, I was letting you know that you received a message from your friend Morgan. He delivered it here for some reason rather than to your residence, so I wanted you to take it before you left.”
Quin nodded. “Thank you. Is it in the study?”
“Yes.”
“Very good, I’ll take a look at it right away.”
The Duchess of Wesley nodded, her brow furrowing. “Did… That is, you received my letter I sent to Cambridge…”
Quin clenched his jaw. Yes, he remembered that letter. The damn thing hadn’t been far from his mind since receiving it. “Yes.”
She arched a brow and waited, then apparently reaching the end of her patience, spoke. “Well?”
“Well, what?” Quin replied, albeit a bit harshly.
“Do you have any information I should know about?” Her words were innocuous enough, but Quin heard all the questions between the lines.Did the gentlemen I selected pass muster? Are they good men?And, most importantly,are you interested in her too?
Quin stared at the rug on the floor. “I have nothing to communicate yet.” It wasn’t time. Everything was too fresh, and for the moment, nothing was settled between him and Catherine. He’d wait to include his mother in the news.
He looked up then, meeting her regard with a frank one of his own.
“I see.” She smoothed her skirt and turned toward the door. “Very well, thank you. I’ll see you tomorrow for the Winstead ball?”
“Of course,” he quickly agreed, anything to escape and find a moment’s peace. He had much to think about, even more that required careful planning.
“Very well,” she replied and took her leave.
Quin released the air he’d been holding tightly in his chest and rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. First things first. He waited a few moments, then exited the library as well, turning right and down the hall to take refuge in the study.
He closed the door and helped himself to a snifter of brandy before looking for the letter from Morgan. Just as his mother said, it was waiting on the desk. He withdrew the silver letter opener and sliced through the seal.
As he read the missive, his brow furrowed.This complicates matters immensely, he thought.
The letter from Morgan was short and directly to the point. Lord Bircham was on his way to London, presumably to meet with Lady Catherine Greatheart.
It wasn’t completely unexpected, but it could mean a lot of things. One thing for sure: the solicitor for the Greatheart estate was moving forward with having Lord Bircham take over stewardship.
Which meant he would meet Catherine. Which also meant that Catherine would be, in some fashion, at his mercy for the time being. While Quin was thankful that there wasn’t a thick fog of gossip surrounding Lord Bircham, he didn’t know the man and therefore didn’t trust him. Especially with something as precious as Catherine’s future. Action needed to be taken, but it wasn’t his place to take it. He could offer advice, but now, given the events of this afternoon, he couldn’t even pretend objectivity.
It was a bloody mess. He only hoped the situation wasn’t as bad as it could be. Perhaps everything would turn out all right. Maybe all his concern was for naught. But he wasn’t placing his bet on it. He’d learned to expect the unexpected, and Catherine certainly fell into that category. Unfortunately.
He’d call on her in the morning. No, he couldn’t. Propriety had been bent enough with her grandmother unable to chaperone. He had to be extra cautious. There was no need to take risks with her reputation, especially since he’d nearly done more than compromise her in the library this afternoon.