“Dance with me?” he asked softly, pleadingly, and hopefully seductively.
Catherine looked at him, her eyes meeting his with a clarity and depth that left his heart pounding. “Now?”
Quin studied her. “As much as my impatience wishes me to say yes, I’d much rather you save me the supper waltz.”
Catherine nodded. “Done.”
“Thank you,” Quin replied, his entire being focused on her as if she were the center of the world…his world. “And if you find yourself another disengaged dance, I’d be happy to help you fill it.”
Catherine’s eyes narrowed slightly. “And you’re prepared for the talk that will certainly ensue? Two dances, are you sure you wish that?”
It was all but stating his intentions publicly and open for speculation. There would be talk with one dance, since it was a waltz. The combination of two dances was an announcement and acknowledged as confirmation of whatever gossip could not validate.
“I find the reward is worth the risk.” He winked daringly to her. “Don’t you think?”
Catherine bit her lip, but her approval glowed in her expression. “And who says I have a disengaged dance to offer you?” she challenged.
“You find me overconfident?”
“If you are overconfident, then I am forward. And I’ve been called worse.”
“I find your forward manner refreshing.” His eyes darted to her lips, then back to her eyes. “So…do you?”
Catherine faltered, as if breaking a spell. “Do I?”
Perhaps he wasn’t the only one so deeply affected. “Have a disengaged dance?”
Understanding dawned in her expression. “You mean, another one?”
“Yes,” Quin replied.
“Well, your dear friend Morgan asked me just five minutes before you, and he took my last one, minus the waltz. It turns out I forgot I had that one available…” She looked down as if slightly embarrassed.
“Ah, so you were saving it for me? How thoughtful.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You implied it, and I’m taking that as a confession,” Quin said charmingly. “And hang Morgan, he’ll not be offended if you slight him for me.”
Catherine gave him a dubious expression. “Is that so?”
“Yes. I’m quite sure.”
Catherine regarded him. “If you’re so certain, I trust you’ll tell him yourself, as I don’t wish to be rude to your friend.”
“My friend will certainly survive, but I’ll speak to him if it will put your mind at ease.”
“It will indeed.”
“What are you two chatting about? Leaving the rest out.” The Duchess of Wesley clucked her tongue at Quin, her eyes darting between the two of them.
“We are discussing a mutual friend and his annoyance,” Quin replied.
Catherine swatted him.
“That is not what we were discussing.”
The Duchess of Wesley gave a pitying shake to her head. “I tried too hard to teach him manners. I’m afraid it was a failure in some aspects.”