After paging through the fashion book and selecting several bolts of material, they ordered a new wardrobe for the upcoming season. It seemed forever away; yet it would take time to create the types of masterpieces Grandmother had insisted they purchase.
“Apparently, gloves alone won’t do the trick for gentlemen?” Catherine remarked as they left the shop, choosing levity even when it still felt like sheer willpower rather than actual emotion.
“Like I said, gloves are the first thing a gentleman touches, but your gown? That’s the first thing they see. Keep up, ducky. I’m giving you pearls of wisdom here.” Her grandmother elbowed her gently. “Now, are you finished shopping or do you wish for a change of scenery?”
“Don’t tell me you’re getting tired.” Catherine narrowed her eyes.
“I never admit defeat, love. You know this.”
“Just making sure.”
An exasperated expression formed on her grandmother’s face. “How about we have the carriage take us to Hyde Park? It’s about the fashionable hour and, love, with all the necks craning to see you, it would be best to just give them an eyeful and then be done with it. Don’t you think?”
“No,” Catherine replied. “But yes.”
“That’s my girl.”
“Might as well get it over and done with.” Catherine grimaced.
“The sooner the better,” her grandmother intoned as they found their carriage and were assisted in by the footman.
Hyde Park wasn’t far from Bond Street, but the congestion of carriage traffic made it seem much farther. After they arrived, Catherine alighted from the carriage and noted that the weather was holding up. One could never guess with London weather. One moment it could be beautifully sunny, only to have the heavens open the next. The sun broke through the trees, adding warmth, and Catherine stepped forward, waiting for her grandmother.
“It’s certainly a busy day today,” Lady Greatheart commented, noticing the activity surrounding the park. Rotten Row had quite the congregation of horses milling about and racing by turns. The path that led to the Serpentine was dotted with ladies and gentlemen walking leisurely, and several squirrels raced across the open grass from one tree to the next.
“Where do you wish to go?” Catherine asked.
“Anywhere but here.” Lady Greatheart started off toward the Serpentine’s path.
At least one of them was decisive. As they meandered down the path, they gave a nod or smile to each person they passed. Most of them were familiar faces, and few seemed judgmental; mostly, the expressions were of pity—which almost seemed worse.
They were rounding a corner when Catherine’s breath rushed from her. Coming around the bend was a tall gentleman, which wasn’t startling in and of itself, but it was his expression.
Those eyes.
She knew those eyes.
And judging by the way the gentleman froze nearly midstep, he recognized her as well.
“Lady Catherine,” he greeted her softly after a lingering pause. He bowed gracefully, taking a full appraisal of her as he did so.
“Quinton… Y-your Grace.” Her voice failed her. It was astoundingly difficult, calling him by the title that had belonged to his brother. They were familiar enough; hadn’t they almost been family? Surely she should have called him by his first name alone, yet she hesitated and added the title. After all, that familial connection had ended.
His expression clouded, shoulders stiffened, and instinctively she understood how the use of the title must hurt him. Hadn’t he lost even more than she? She’d known Avery for a few months, while Quinton had known him lifelong.
He seemed to pause, debating. He took a step closer and spoke. “Please continue to call me Quin. Our association is such that surely it can be possible for you to do so, and I would so much prefer it.”
A wave of relief washed over her. “Quin it is.”
“Thank you.” His eyes shifted to her grandmother. “My apologies, Lady Greatheart.”
“No need.” Sunlight flashed bright on her glove when she held up a hand as he rose from his bow. “How are you, Quinton?” Lady Greatheart asked, her kind eyes full of sympathy. “It’s been an age, and I really must call on your mother as well. It’s been too long.”
“As well as can be expected,” Quin answered, his attention shifting to Catherine. His expression was inquiring, but he didn’t voice the words.
Catherine appreciated his restraint. How many had asked her the same question? How many times had she outright lied, or tried to avoid the question? More than she could count. And it was certainly the same for him.
“It’s a lovely day, is it not?” she chimed in, neatly changing the subject.