Catherine looked up at him through her lashes, her shoulders relaxing slightly as if releasing some of the weight carried upon them.
“What do you know of an actor by the name of Kean? Because if he’s as brilliant as I’ve heard, I just might need your help.”
“Help? Of course. In what way?”
Catherine leaned into his embrace further, but still maintaining propriety. “It seems my cousin is bound and determined to adjust my investments. So I’m going to beat him to it. They probably are outdated, and I’m of age. I would like your assistance in becoming a patroness.”
“Patroness…of Kean’s?”
“No. Of Drury Lane Theatre.”
Twenty-six
Happiness and unhappiness are in the heart and spirit of each one of us: If you feel unhappy, then place yourself above that and act so that your happiness does not get to be dependent on anything.
—Catherine the Great
Catherine resisted the urge to bite her lip and studied Quin’s face as he reacted to her words. It wasn’t that women couldn’t be patronesses of the arts; it was just that usually they were older and established, not young and single.
But if her sources were correct, the Drury Lane Committee of Management was sinking fast into bankruptcy, and she wasn’t about to let the arts fade away in the cold mists of financial ruin. Kean was renowned for his interpretation of Shakespeare. His earlier performance of Shylock in January had given the theater a much-needed boost, but it hadn’t been enough. The committee had entered into negotiations to hire him for further performances. Catherine was going to make sure they had the funds to make that happen.
Quin nodded once. “Consider it done.” And then he leaned forward, his green eyes sparkling with something she couldn’t quite name but felt down to her toes. “What else do you have in mind?”
Such a question had only one answer.
“Anything I want,” she whispered with the power of a woman taking control of her destiny.
“I believe that.” Quin nodded his approval. “Are there other investments you’re considering?”
Catherine looked around them, then met Quin’s gaze again. “Yes, but let’s save that conversation for later. I’d rather enjoy this moment without distraction.”
“I couldn’t agree more.”
Quin’s grip tightened on her waist as he drew her in a fraction of an inch, and his scent enveloped her.
Licking her lips, her eyes darted down to his mouth.
“Don’t,” Quin whispered.
She glanced up, the words causing a sharp pain of rejection, till she saw the same hunger reflected in his own eyes. Understanding dawned, and her cheeks warmed with a blush.
“I find myself unequal to the task of resisting the temptation you offer, Catherine, and I wouldn’t harm your reputation by my lack of self-control,” Quin murmured softly.
Their eyes met, and Catherine broke away before she did something rash and daring and utterly scandalous.
Fighting a warm flush at the memory of his touch, she forced herself to be calm. Leave it to the most honorable man in London to make her feel utterly tempted to be shocking.
It was enchanting and ironic, and she adored the dichotomy of it all.
“What devilish intentions are you hiding?” Quin inquired.
Catherine gave her head a slow shake as her lips widened.
“Your expression is utterly terrifying,” Quin whispered. “And equally tempting. Why do I feel as if I’m party to whatever plan you’re hatching?”
“Who says you’re simply a party? Why not the whole reason?” Catherine said flirtatiously.
“Is that the way it works? I feel as if I should be concerned.” Quin narrowed his glare in mock suspicion.