He’d much rather take on Morgan any day, rather than Joan.
Where Morgan was diabolical in his approach—which made him quite the asset at the War Office—Joan was methodical, and you could never determine when she’d exact her revenge. But she had righteousness in her favor, for any revenge she gave was justly deserved by her brother.
Quin bowed as he met his friend’s sister, noticing the familial resemblance in their demeanor and expression. “A pleasure, Lady Joan.”
“And a pleasure for me as well. I’ve heard so much about you.”
“I hope you believe only the good aspects.”
“Only if you promise to do the same for all you’ve heard about me.”
“Done,” Quin agreed. “And may I have the pleasure of a dance this evening? Or are all your dances taken?”
Joan’s eyes narrowed playfully. “Morgan tends to frighten off most gentlemen, though as much as I wish I could disparage him for such a thing, I don’t wish for any suitor who is terrified of someone as unthreatening as he is.” She shot a challenging glare at her sibling.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” Quin replied. “How about a reel?”
“Perfect,” Joan replied. “Thank you for asking.”
“My pleasure.” Quin bowed. “I look forward to it.”
He pitied the man who tried to court Joan. However, he suspected the more formidable of the two was certainly Joan. It was a sibling relationship that he understood, the fighting and teasing but the underlying loyalty and trust that came from blood. He missed that. But Morgan and Joan had lost a brother too. It seemed that fire had stolen something from everyone.
His ponderings were cut short when he was intercepted by a shorter man walking intently toward him. His clothing was meticulous, too much so. The gentleman’s effort to make an impression with his dress was bordering on gaudy, right down to the silver-handled cane.
“Your Grace.” The man bowed low, surprising Quin with an unexpected address.
It went against Quin’s nature to cut the man, regardless of his faux pas of addressing a duke without a proper introduction. Quin gave a sharp nod and waited for the gentleman in question to continue, but the man paused in his bow as if waiting for Quin to speak first. Quin paused, resenting the attention this uncomfortable situation was attracting. He addressed the man. “I find myself at a disadvantage. You are…?”
The gentleman snapped straight. “Percival Armstrong, Baron Bircham.”
Quin offered his hand, studying the man with a renewed interest. So this was Catherine’s cousin, the trustee of the estate.Interesting.“A pleasure.”
“The honor is all mine, Your Grace.”
The man bowed again, and Quin clenched his jaw at such officious attention. Quin withdrew his ignored outstretched hand and tucked it in his pocket, feeling awkward.
“I’ve been told that Lady Catherine has been taken under the wing of your mother, and I wanted to offer my thanks.”
Quin nodded. “No thanks are necessary. It is my mother’s pleasure to have such a dear friend so often in her company.” Quin regarded the man, searching for what his game was.
“Nonetheless, with someone as alone in the world as Lady Catherine, I’m sure she appreciates your friendship.”
Ah, so his approach would be to portray her as a weak and foolish female. How…disappointing.
“One is never alone when surrounded by friends. If you’ll excuse me, Lord Bircham.” As far as Quin was concerned, they had finished with the conversation. There was no need to paint Catherine’s situation as pitiful, not when she was anything but. And Quin knew from experience she wouldn’t appreciate such pity.
Nor would he.
They had endured more than their share. There was no need to add to what had already been measured out for them. Lord Bircham bowed as Quin left and thankfully didn’t follow. Quin made his way back to his mother, knowing that was where Catherine would come when the dance finished. It was quite beneficial to have his mother as her chaperone. After the dance finished, Catherine was led by her partner to his mother’s side.
Before the music from one dance settled, the new strains of a reel began. It was Quin’s turn to take his leave and find Joan. Had he known the reel was next, he would have kept his place by Morgan, but there was nothing for it now.
He excused himself, giving Catherine a quiet look of affection as he left, and sought out Joan for his promised dance. She was waiting beside her brother in nearly the same position as he had left them.
“I believe this is my dance.” Quin bowed and extended his hand.
“It seems it is,” Joan offered.