As Quin led her onto the dance floor, he noted the way Morgan abandoned his post and headed toward the north corner of the ballroom. Quin wouldn’t have noted his friend’s progress were it not for the way Morgan moved seamlessly through the crowd, as if anticipating each person’s movements and darting around them without so much as touching the fabric of skirt or jacket. It was impressive, and just as Quin started the reel, he noted that Morgan disappeared behind a large statue. Quin turned his full attention to Joan and began to dance.
As they passed each other in the turn, the movement of the dance added color to her pale skin. Her smile was infectious, and Quin grinned in return. It was a delight to dance with someone just for the pure pleasure. No expectations, no hopes he’d have to thwart. Joan knew he was asking for the benefit of her brother and for the pleasure of a lively partner. Quin enjoyed the dance more than he usually would.
“You’re a better dancer than Morgan,” Joan commented as they passed each other.
“Oh? I shouldn’t think that would be a difficult feat.”
“It isn’t,” she returned with a joking tone.
When they met again, she said, “Thank you. I know you asked because my brother requested it.”
“I’m enjoying myself. You clearly got all the dancing talent in the family,” Quin replied.
Joan rolled her eyes, then seemed to catch herself in the unladylike response. “Yes, well, as you so eloquently said, it doesn’t mean much.”
“I meant it as a compliment regardless.”
“Then I thank you.”
The reel ended, and Quin bowed to Joan. After offering his arm, he started to lead her back to where he’d last seen her brother, only Morgan was nowhere to be found. Odd.
Quin scanned the room, not wanting to leave Joan alone. As he surveyed the crowd, another reel started up. Quin led Joan to the side of the dance floor, keeping them out of the way of the new dancers. As they reached the edge, he turned them to face the dancers and noted that Morgan was lining up with Catherine. Odd, he thought their dance was later, giving him a chance to steal it from Morgan.
Quin’s first reaction was irritation, but it soon gave way to concern as he noted the expression on Catherine’s face. There wasn’t the keen enjoyment that he had expected from a lively dance with a familiar partner. No, it was the anxiety of learning something distasteful.
He admired her as she moved around the dancers, performing the steps automatically, yet every time she came close to Morgan, he would speak to her. The nod of her head gave away her intent listening, and more than once he noted a fierce determination spreading across her features.
Curiosity burning within him, he impatiently waited for the reel to end, never once taking his eyes from the pair.
“Is all well?” Joan asked, whispering softly from beside him.
He shifted his feet so he faced her. “Indeed.”
He turned his attention back to Morgan and Catherine.
“You’re a terrible liar,” Joan said for his ears alone, and Quin flicked his glare to her. “It’s the truth.” She shrugged. “It’s not a bad thing. If you were a good liar, it would mean you had to practice it regularly, and that’s not a skill one should need to perfect.”
“Unless it’s your profession.” He arched a brow, then flicked his appraisal to her brother, who was, by profession, a liar of sorts. Only his sort of lies kept people safe, traitors in prison, and information secret.
“That’s different. He’s honorable.”
“Indeed, he is,” Quin agreed, then as the music ended, led Joan toward Morgan as he exited the dance floor.
As Quin approached, he raised an eyebrow of query to his friend.
But rather than impart any information, Morgan nodded to Lady Catherine, thanked her for the dance, and took his sister’s hand from where it rested on Quin’s forearm. “If you’ll excuse us.”
As the brother and sister departed, Quin shifted to face Catherine just as the strains of the supper waltz began. The timing couldn’t have been better, and Quin held out his hand. Catherine took it and stepped closer. Quin moved in, then back, leading them into the steps as they entered into the swirl of other dancers.
“Are you well?” Quin asked, needing to know the important information first.
“Yes. Quite. Just…irritated,” Catherine said in a frustrated tone. “But I will confess that I’ve been looking forward to this dance all evening, and I won’t have it spoiled.”
Quin nodded. “I’ve been anticipating it as well, but I find I’m more concerned with your heart than the dance.”
“Ah, when you put it such a way, how can I refuse?”
“I’m hoping you won’t,” Quin replied. “Is there anything I can do to help? And if you wish not to share whatever Morgan told you, I can respect that as well. If I’ve learned anything about you, Catherine…” He caressed her name with his voice, as if his words could touch her in ways he couldn’t on the full dance floor.