“Why, thank you, Mother.”
“Seems it’s just the truth,” his mother replied.
Catherine leaned toward him. “See? Favorite.”
Quin speared her with a somewhat sarcastic expression.
“Rude,” Catherine returned.
“Good Lord, I’m surrounded,” Quin said, looking heavenward.
The string quartet started then, the strains of a cotillion starting up and filling the room with the joyful music. Quin turned to say something to Catherine, but he was distracted by the quite determined stride of Lord Buckeen, heading directly toward them, eyes intent on Catherine.
Quin decided that the dancing was absurdly overrated and was far less satisfied with the evening than he’d been a moment before.
“I believe this is my dance, Lady Catherine.” Lord Buckeen bowed and extended his hand.
“Of course,” Lady Catherine said sweetly and followed him onto the dance floor.
Quin watched them line up to begin the dance, some emotion dangerously close to jealousy filling him as he watched.
“If you don’t wipe that expression off your face, you’re going to cause more gossip than you wish to endure.” His mother’s words were spoken brightly, as if she were discussing a fascinating topic, but Quin noted that it was a blind. She was faking one emotion to cover another, so those seeing them wouldn’t suspect.
His mother was quite brilliant.
Quin quickly schooled his features and murmured to his mother, “Thank you.”
“Of course. Did you ask her to dance?” his mother asked quickly.
“Yes, she saved me the dinner waltz,” he remarked, knowing the significance wouldn’t be lost on his mother. “Along with another dance.”
“Two?” His mother’s lips formed a surprised O. “Am I the last to know about everything? The least you could have done was bring me into your confidence. Last I heard was your firm disinterest.” She regarded him. “You’re a better liar than you were as a boy. That’s not a compliment.”
Quin had opened his mouth to reply, but at her last words snapped it shut.
His mother narrowed her eyes.
“I promise you’ll be the first to know. We’re just…exploring.” He put it delicately, knowing the path ahead wasn’t exactly going to be easy. The gossip alone would be its own hailstorm. And while he had promised Catherine to make it right, he wanted to do so without the public eye or the scandal that could accompany a hasty proposal. She was his; now he’d woo her with the world watching.
“Just be sure that any…exploring…doesn’t give me an early grandchild,” his mother said curtly.
Quin coughed, trying to swallow his shock and failing. “Mother,” he scolded.
“I’m not an idiot.” His mother gave him a once-over and regarded him with a warning expression.
“I assure you that is not a current possibility.” Quin felt the need to defend his honor, and Catherine’s.
“Current possibilities…change. Don’t be a simpleton.” The Duchess of Wesley said the last words with a delighted tone as she scanned the crowd.
Quin marveled at her ability to play the part. To throw off the scent of gossipmongers. He peeked back to the swirling dancers, finding Catherine and watching her spin and dance.
Deciding he needed a distraction, he sought out Morgan with the intention of gaining his approval to steal his dance with Catherine for himself. It would serve a twofold purpose, because then he could ask Joan for a dance as well.
Morgan was easy to find and, with only minimal harassment, was convinced to abdicate his dance for Quin’s sake. One errand done, Quin turned his attention to gaining a dance from Joan.
Morgan was happy to offer the formal introduction, which was indeed a mere formality since Quin had known of Joan and her antics for years, but they hadn’t ever had the pleasure of an introduction.
She was a slight-framed girl, but her fiery-red hair and sparkling green eyes were filled with a determination that made her formidable. He knew this from the many stories Morgan had shared over the years.