“You should be,” Catherine replied, hitching a shoulder. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
“I will endeavor to be equal to the task, my lady.” Quin bowed, winking as he did so.
“Of that I have no doubts.”
“You’ll be the death of me…or at least of my self-control,” Quin lamented.
“And that is exactly the plan.” She gave him a once-over that was not strictly proper and made her way toward the Duchess of Wesley, who was waiting nearby.
She could feel Quin watching her as she retreated, but it wasn’t the kind of unnerving sensation that she’d so often felt when people stared after her—judging, pitying, or speaking ill.
It was an enchanting feeling of knowing someone cared.
She wasn’t sure how things had progressed this far; she was only thankful that they had.
Catherine’s enjoyment of the evening was cut short when the Duchess of Wesley decided to leave the party, claiming a headache. Without a proper chaperone, Catherine decided it was in her best interest to leave as well.
It would have been a sad prospect but for the hope of tomorrow and the promise of Quin calling upon her. If Lord Bircham did make good on his intentions of persuading her of his particular plans for investment, she would need some sort of diversion to look forward to in the afternoon.
When she arrived home, Catherine proceeded to her grandfather’s study. She took a seat behind the grand desk, sinking into the soft leather chair. There was work to be done, so she didn’t linger in her relaxation. Instead, she leaned forward and withdrew a quill, ink, and linen paper to make a list.
Her first endeavor was with Drury Lane, and she’d contact the financial committee tomorrow to make her formal proposal.
That situated, she moved on to other concepts. If she were to invest in something, she wanted it to matter as well as make profits. She tapped her fingernail on the wooden desk, then paused as a thought flickered through her mind.
With the anticipated defeat of Napoleon in the War of the Sixth Coalition, what of those left behind by soldier and sailor? Surely, there were orphans. Her investment in the textile industry had proven quite lucrative; she could use some of the profit to be helpful.
An orphanage didn’t have to be profitable, just self-sufficient. And perhaps a library. Her eyes widened with the idea of creating a small library in Providence Place and maybe a school for literacy. All her grand ideas flew through her mind and onto paper as she wrote them down.
But she needed more than grand ideas—she needed plans, business plans to present to her solicitor. So withdrawing a clean sheet of paper, she outlined what she needed for a proper proposal.
She was thankful that Quin was surely going to be of assistance as well; with his economic passion, he could outline the areas she was finding ambiguous. It was perfect.
Catherine worked into the night, her thoughts focused with determination as she put her intentions into words. It wasn’t until the darkest reaches of the night that she finally set her pen down. She wished she could go over the details with her grandmother, ask for her keen insight and unapologetic directness. But even with the slow progress her grandmother had made, Catherine wouldn’t tax her with questions. It was enough to be able to outline the proposal. With a sense of satisfaction, she stood from the desk. The peaceful feeling followed her to her rooms and lulled her to sleep. It kept her at rest till the bright sunlight of midmorning awakened her hours later. With no time to linger in bed, she dressed quickly, broke her fast, checked on her sleeping grandmother, and waited for Quin’s arrival, anticipating his presence.
She’d notified Mrs. Burke that she was having a guest and would require her presence. It went against the grain, having her present when she was discussing an all-out coup against the woman’s employer. He’d find out soon enough, and Mrs. Burke’s presence was unfortunately necessary since Catherine would be in an unmarried gentleman’s presence. Regardless of how many times she’d had Quin to herself in the past, it was different now.
The promise of forever hung in the air with that kiss.
Then the waltz.
And she was quite certain there was more to be done on that front.
It was just after noon when Brooks announced Quin’s arrival, and Catherine put no effort into hiding her welcoming beam in his direction. His green eyes danced, and Catherine’s cheeks heated at her body’s response to seeing him. Warm all over, she felt her fingers tingle with the lingering sensation of his hand at her hip during their waltz last night.
“Good afternoon,” Quin said by way of greeting.
“Indeed it is. Especially now,” she responded, unable to resist her impulsive nature.
Quin bowed. “I assume you have a plan for our time together?” His eyes flicked from her to Mrs. Burke. He gave a nod to the widow.
Catherine replied to his query, “Of course.”
“And you say I’m the predictable one, restrained.” He inclined his head.
“I said you were not one to find himself in trouble.”
Quin arched a brow, his expression challenging and engaging at the same time. “And yet I find myself attracted to it, nonetheless.”