Most women were pretty in some way to him, of course. He found something to admire in every female he came in contact with. But Lady Clara had captured his interest much more than he’d expected.
Not that anything could come of it. She was under Peter’s protection, after all, and the man would have Quincy’s head if he so much as looked at the lady wrong. And so any attraction he might possess for Lady Clara would have to be kept under strict lock and key.
But Quincy’s imagination was a healthy thing, often manifesting at the most inopportune times. So it was a blessing when Peter spoke, breaking him from thoughts of a freckled, round face and dark blue eyes. Unfortunately, it was to ask about the very last thing Quincy wished to discuss.
“Doesn’t your family hail from London?”
Quincy pulled a face and took a healthy swallow of his drink, his mood souring in an instant. “Yes. Not that it brings me an ounce of pleasure to realize just how close I am to them. I hope you comprehend how much you mean to me,” he said with a severe look his friend’s way, “that I would willingly find myself in the same city as them.”
“I shall take the compliment, and gladly,” Peter regarded Quincy over the rim of his glass. “Do you plan to see them while you’re in town?”
“You truly know how to put a damper on a moment, did you know that?” When Peter merely arched a gold brow, Quincy let out a harsh breath and rolled his eyes. “For your information, yes, I am planning on seeing them and putting the past behind me once and for all. Are you happy now?”
“Oh, quite,” Peter said with a grin. “After all, you were more than willing to feed me to the wolves, so to speak, in forcing a reconciliation I had no intention of indulging.”
“I don’t see you complaining now that you’ve got the sweetest woman in all of Christendom as a bride,” Quincy drawled.
“That is true,” Peter said with a happy sigh. He gave Quincy a sly look. “But you never know, you might be just as fortunate.”
“If you think I’ll come away from this with anything other than a headache, you’re sorely mistaken. Besides, I’m not the least bit ready to settle down. A wife is not in the cards for me just yet.”
A commotion in the hall blessedly interrupted whatever sarcastic comment Peter had been about to make. In the next moment Lenora sailed through the study door.
“Peter, darling,” she said, tugging off her gloves, “your aunt has bid me to tell you—Oh! Mr. Nesbitt, what a wonderful surprise!”
Quincy surged to his feet and offered a deep bow that he quickly ruined with a wink. “Your Grace.”
Her laugh was like bells. “Oh, none of that. Lenora, please,” she said with a warm smile.
“Lenora,” he repeated with a grin. “I do hope you don’t mind me dropping in unannounced.”
She laughed again, accepting a kiss from her husband before taking Quincy’s hand. “Why, you make it sound as if you were merely in the neighborhood and did not have to sail for weeks across an ocean to get here. But we never received word that you intended to visit.”
“I admit, I had hoped to shock this fellow here.” He jerked a thumb in Peter’s direction.
“I do wish I had seen that. For though I try my hardest, not much surprises my husband.” She sighed happily. “But this is just splendid. I’ll have Mrs. Ingram prepare a room right away.”
Before he could lay waste to that generous offer, a sweet voice carried from the hall. “Prepare a room for whom, Lenora?” And then Lady Clara was there, filling the doorway and his vision.
The breath caught in Quincy’s chest. She was just as lovely as he remembered, if not more so. Rich brown hair in a riot of curls so soft his fingers itched to dive into their depths. Pale skin with a smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose. A willowy figure, accentuated by the light blue of her dress.
And those eyes. Damnation, those beautiful clear blue eyes that widened when she saw him. Her full lips parted on a soft gasp of air.
He bowed a second later than was polite. What the devil was wrong with him? “Lady Clara, it’s a pleasure to see you again.”
The delicate rose of a blush spread up her neck and settled, bright and warm, on her cheeks. She gave a quick, shallow curtsy. “Mr. Nesbitt. How lovely to have you back in England.”
Quincy, please.He just managed to hold the words back, knowing such familiarity would be ill advised. If there was anything he didn’t need right now, it was more to tempt him with this woman.
Her blush deepened as his silence crept on. She looked to Lenora. “Shall I have Mrs. Ingram make up that room then?”
Before Lenora could answer, Quincy stepped forward, his hand raised. “No need, my lady. I’m staying at Mivart’s.”
Was that relief in Lady Clara’s eyes? Or disappointment? Before he could wonder at it, her expression shifted, taking on a pleasant if blank expression.
“Oh, but we have more than enough room,” Lenora said. “And Lady Tesh will be ever so disappointed. She always speaks fondly of you.”
Quite an accomplishment, that. Peter’s irascible aunt, the Dowager Viscountess Tesh, was as plain-spoken and opinionated a woman as he’d ever had the pleasure to know. And he adored her.