I am determined to prove a villain
And hate the idle pleasures of these days.”
Catherine watched spellbound as Edmund Kean spun part of the opening monologue of Shakespeare’sRichard III. When he finished the scene, he bowed, straightened, and walked from the stage.
Catherine stood with the rest of the committee and applauded. Mr. Whitbred moved closer and leaned in, a look of deep satisfaction on his face. “I’ll have my solicitor contact you regarding the financial details.” She held out her gloved hand. “That performance was brilliant. See to it that he has more than just one upcoming performance.”
Mr. Whitbred clasped her hand. “Done.”
Catherine couldn’t restrain her excitement as she released his hand, even though she could sense Mrs. Burke’s disapproval at her offering a gentleman a handshake. Ignoring her chaperone’s surely baleful glare, she spoke once more to Mr. Whitbred. “And I want to reserve a box for the season.”
“For you, anything, Lady Catherine.”
She knew the box would probably come at a dear price, but she wasn’t going to miss a performance, not if she could help it.
Her business complete, she took leave of the theater, skin still prickling with gooseflesh over the rendition of King Richard’s speech. Mrs. Burke followed her exit, a silent sentry of misery behind her.
As they entered the carriage, Catherine expected the widow to have at least something to say regarding the performance. “Well, did you enjoy that?” she asked after no compliment was forthcoming. Catherine righted herself as the carriage moved forward, jerking her slightly backward.
Mrs. Burke’s eyebrows drew into lines of disapproval as she glared at her. “It’s not my idea of pleasure to watch a man flounce about pretending to be a king.”
The words surprised Catherine. Was this woman unable to find beauty in even the most fascinating arts such as theater? And for the first time, Catherine wondered if perhaps something had happened in Mrs. Burke’s past that had destroyed the woman’s ability to find joy in, well, anything.
That was a pity.
Haven’t I suffered?she thought.Haven’t I known the acute sense of loss? Haven’t I felt fear of the unknown regarding a loved one’s fate? Yet I moved forward, still open to life and its beauty, regardless of pain’s price.It was a choice. She chose to focus on the beauty, and it wasn’t easy.
But it was always worth it.
“I’m sorry you feel that way,” Catherine replied.
The West End of London passed by the window of the carriage, and rather than put energy into a one-sided conversation, Catherine thought over the remainder of the day’s appointments.
When they finally returned home, she inquired whether she’d had a reply from the Duchess of Wesley regarding Quin’s availability for the afternoon.
“My lady, this came for you while you were out.” Brooks held out a silver tray with a familiar seal on the envelope.
“Thank you.” Catherine dismissed Mrs. Burke, took the missive into the study, and shut the door, not wanting her chaperone’s prying eyes on her.
She sat behind the desk, withdrew a letter opener from the side drawer, and slit open the missive.
The note came not from the Duchess of Wesley but from Quin, accepting her request for his company.
She looked at the clock, considering how much time she had before Quin would arrive. Deciding she had time for tea, she rang for a maid and ordered refreshment, and after a moment’s deliberation, she invited Mrs. Burke to partake as well. Unfortunately, she would still need Mrs. Burke to accompany her this afternoon, especially with Quin present. Maybe she’d be lucky and the incorrigible woman would hold her tongue in the presence of a duke. Silence from the woman would be a welcome boon.
Mrs. Burke arrived around the same time as the tea.
And as if her thoughts had conjured him, Quin’s arrival was announced a few minutes later. Brooks showed him into the study. His green eyes regarded her warmly, highlighted by the dark-emerald color of his cravat and matching coat. Long and lean, he moved with a powerful grace that reminded her of their dance and built anticipation for their next.
Catherine rose to greet him, and as she approached, she held out her hand, her face heating with understanding as he grasped her fingers and kissed the back of them slowly, intentionally, causing heat to prickle her skin up her arm and travel into her spine, sending tingles of desire through her limbs. He regarded her openly, communicating more than what he could say with propriety, and Catherine couldn’t resist the devilish impulse to lick her lips, then bite her lower one, gratified when his eyes went smoky with desire.
Let him burn along with her.
“A pleasure to see you,” Quin murmured softly, his eyes roaming over her features like a kiss.
“You as well.” She could have said his name, or more properlyYour Grace, but her throat caught as he slowly released her hand only to twine his fingers with hers scandalously, lingering in every touch.
She arched her brow at his subtle yet shocking behavior. He winked back unrepentantly.