She turned to gauge the widow’s reaction, but to her surprise, she nodded as if in full agreement.
She was surrounded by misogynists.
At least it was out in the open. “Is there anything else you need, Lord Bircham?”
Lord Bircham covered his heart with a hand. “No, are you so ready to be rid of me? I find your lack of hospitality disconcerting. I’m sure your grandmother wouldn’t approve.” He tsked his tongue.
At this, Catherine couldn’t hold back the laughter that bubbled from her chest. “My grandmother?” she repeated, then checked herself, gaining control of her emotions once more.
“Yes.” Lord Bircham nodded, but his brow furrowed with confusion.
“Did you ever meet my grandmother, Lord Bircham?” she couldn’t help but ask.
He glowered. “No, I never had the pleasure.”
She nodded. “Then allow me to acquaint you with my very prim and circumspect grandmother. Because if you have met me, you have met the milder version of the original,” she said in a fierce tone. It was the truth, and it resonated in her like nothing had this day.
She had her grandmother’s strength. Her resolve. Her passion. Her dedication to family. Her tenacity. Her frankness. And damn it all, she had her wit.
Lord Bircham’s expression was disapproving, but he didn’t comment.
Perhaps he was smarter than he let on.
“Speaking of my grandmother, I must now look in on her, so if you’ll excuse me?” She gestured toward the door, which was indeed on the edge of being rude, but it was the most she could manage at the moment.
“I understand.” Lord Bircham stood. “I’ll see you on the morrow, then.”
Catherine paused. “On the morrow?”
He nodded. “When signing the papers as the trustee of your estate, I was given its financials, and I must say it’s quite lacking in diversification. I’d like to discuss some ways we can remedy that. I’ll see you tomorrow to go over the particulars and gain your signature on several investments.” He took his cane and quit the room, Catherine’s narrowed regard following his retreat.
“You’d be wise to listen to his counsel.” Mrs. Burke interrupted Catherine’s thoughts.
“Thank you for your unsolicited advice, but I have others to consult, and if ever I need advice from you, rest assured I’ll ask you before you need to volunteer it.” Catherine peeked over her shoulder and then left in a swish of muslin.
It was a good thing the ball was tonight.
Lord Bircham had said they needed diversification…
She immediately made a mental list of the recent possible investment opportunities she’d been unable to discuss with her grandmother. Perhaps this was more of an opportunity than a misfortune. She’d take the first chance to talk with Quin at the ball. As she walked up the stairs to check on her grandmother, a wave of gratitude filled her. It had been rare to find a man who appreciated a woman with a keen mind, and it had been a miracle to find another. Quin was certainly her miracle.
Twenty-five
Quin resisted the urge to tug on his cravat. His valet had taken extra care with his evening kit, but that also meant the wicked neckcloth was far stiffer and tighter than usual.
Blast it all.
He’d arrived fashionably late to the Winstead ball, preferring to wait in his own study rather than in a crowded ballroom for Catherine’s arrival. Each year at the beginning of the season, the Earl of Winstead—rather his wife—threw a smashing ball where everyone of the prestigioustonwould be in attendance. It was where the London elite began the gossip mills for the season, and where the competition among the ladies was evaluated and the bachelors sorted in order of desirability.
It quite reminded him of a market, but much cleaner.
Quin gave a wide berth to a circle of young ladies, all shadowed by their mamas. The collective focus of the group followed him till he disappeared into the crowd; he could feel it.
He wasn’t sure what was worse—that he was regarded as the bachelor of the season, or that soon people would be speculating about his interest in Catherine.
Because, devil take it, he was going to waltz with her.
That was if he could find her in the sea of humanity. Taller than most, he usually could see over the crowd with some ease, but Lady Winstead had decorated the ballroom with several sculptures and trees, giving an ethereal feel to the room but also inhibiting his view.