He watched her as his mother offered them a seat beside her while they waited for dinner to be served.
When the butler arrived, Quin released a sigh of relief as everyone stood, waiting for him to take his mother’s hand and lead the way to the dining room.
He filed through the room and offered his arm to his mother. “Would you do me the honor?”
The Duchess of Wesley inclined her head. “Thank you, but I wish to talk to Lady Catherine for just a moment. Would you escort Lady Greatheart, dear?”
Lady Greatheart was the second-ranking lady, so it made sense, but it was rare that Quin had seen his mother decline his offer. Turning to Lady Greatheart, he offered his arm. “My lady?”
“Ah, it’s not every day a handsome devil offers me his arm.” Lady Greatheart smiled, setting her hand on his arm. “Careful, I might not let go.” She had a twinkle in her eyes as she looked back at her granddaughter.
Catherine gave a soft giggle that seemed to release some of the tension in her shoulders. “You do that. Enjoy your escort.”
“I will. Let’s walk slowly, Quin.” She paused, then whispered, “It is acceptable for me to call you Quin still?”
Quin couldn’t hide his amusement. He was convinced that even if he refused, she’d simply do what she wished, regardless. But it just so happened that he didn’t mind her calling him Quin at all. Hadn’t he given them leave earlier? “Quin is perfectly acceptable.”
“It fits you,” she remarked as they made their way into the hall toward the dining hall.
“Thank you. I’ve always liked my name.”
“I wasn’t ever content with mine,” Lady Greatheart commented distractedly.
“Oh?”
“No. Esmeralda seems too exotic for me. Never fit.”
No, exotic she was not; rather, she was a classic Englishwoman, but it was a stately name, and in that respect it did fit her well.
“I beg to differ. It’s rather regal.”
She studied him. “I never thought of it like that. I like regal. Well, you can call me what you wish. Just don’t call me old, yet. I’m close but not close enough to admit it.”
He appreciated her candor. “Whatever you wish.”
“I like you, Quin. You’ve been through hell, and you still have your heart and wits about you.” She patted his hand.
Quin startled at hearing her rather vulgar word, but her compliment rang all the truer for it.
“Why, thank you.” He offered her a roguish smile, hoping to play the part for her.
“Ah, there’s that devilish expression. You know, your brother had that very same one.”
Her candid words sent a shock of surprise through him. It wasn’t often that others mentioned his brother. Usually, it was only in the safe and selective confines of his family that his brother’s name was mentioned with anything but a swift and usually awkward condolence following.
“Don’t look so shocked. I know it still hurts. As one who knows firsthand how it aches to lose a loved one, I also can tell you from a depth of experience that talking about them helps, even though it hurts. And”—she gave a furtive glance behind them, as if making sure they didn’t garner others’ attention—“I’d wager that it warms your heart to think that you share something with your brother, carry it with you even though he no longer can.” She nodded with emphasis.
Quin turned his attention ahead, not trusting himself to reply at the moment. Unconventional as they were, her words held truth. He did find it comforting to know he shared his brother’s smile; it was a piece of Wes that he was able to carry about with him.
“I tend to push too far, or that’s what Catherine tells me, so pardon me if I overstepped,” she murmured softly.
Quin turned to her then, offering a tone of reassurance. “No, not at all, my lady. Turns out you were right.”
“I’ll try not to let it go to my head.”
They were approaching the dining room, and Quin led her to the proper place beside his mother’s, then pulled out the chair for her, waiting for her to be seated.
“Thank you for the lovely chat.” He spoke softly.