Chapter 10

As much as he liked to pretend otherwise, Anthony’s nerves were in chaos. Contrary to his usual habit of showing up fashionably late, he’d arrived at Axelby’s home at eight o’clock sharp and had therefore been one of the first guests to enter the ballroom. It had been a great relief when Brody and Callum arrived, offering him an escape from the stilted conversation he’d been having with one of the older matrons.

Now, strategically positioned near the front of the room, he kept his gaze on the entrance while hoping Miss Quinn would show up. Naturally, Axelby had been surprised when he’d made the request to invite her and her uncle. He’d hesitated a tad too long for Anthony’s liking, but in the end, he’d relented. They were longtime friends after all, and Axelby did owe him a favor or two for covering for him when they’d been at Eton.

The orchestra started playing the first few notes of a reel. Additional couples arrived, filling the ballroom with lively chatter. Despite the anxiousness tensing his muscles, he felt more at ease than he’d done this past year. The horse he’d listed for sale two weeks prior had brought him twenty pounds. He’d sold two more since then, along with several items he’d found in the attic.

A painting by Rubens, tucked away at the bottom of a large trunk, had earned a staggering total of nearly two hundred pounds. Though he’d still need additional funds for his sisters’ debuts, it was enough to pay his outstanding bills and cover all immediate expenses.

The discovery had prompted him to carefully assess the rest of the artwork he owned. As a man with little interest in art beyond what he found pleasing to the eye, he’d never really considered the worth of his own collection.

As with most of the things that filled his house and his country estate, they’d been handed down to him from previous generations. He’d grown up with them simply being there, and as a result, he’d not really spared them much thought. Until now.

“What do you think?” Brody asked.

Anthony stared at him. And at Callum. He’d no idea what they’d been talking about. “Forgive me, but I fear I got distracted for a moment and missed the subject of the conversation.”

Callum grinned. “If I were mooning after a lady, I’d be distracted too.”

“I’m not mooning over anyone,” Anthony grumbled.

“There’s no shame in it,” Callum said. “We both think Miss Quinn is delightful.”

Unfortunately, the next lady to arrive was not Miss Quinn but rather Miss Starling. Dressed in a pale blue gown and with her hair predictably styled to perfection, she entered the ballroom with her two younger sisters. Pausing briefly, she swept the room with her eagle-eyed gaze and quickly spotted her quarry – namely him.

Brilliant.

Anthony sighed. As payment for the tea she’d invited his sisters to attend, he’d enjoyed an unpleasant visit to The National Gallery with her earlier in the week. To make certain it wouldn’t look as though they were courting, he had insisted on meeting her there and had chosen to bring his sisters along for the outing.

Unsurprisingly, Miss Starling had not looked the least bit pleased.

“If you step out onto the terrace, we’ll stall her,” Brody said, realizing Anthony’s dilemma. “You can escape to the garden for a while. Just long enough for her dance card to fill.”

Knowing Miss Starling, such a thing would be unlikely. She’d make sure to leave one spot vacant until he returned. The predatory gleam in her eyes as she started toward him was chilling. He was tempted to follow Brody’s advice, if only to avoid speaking with her at great length. But what if Miss Quinn arrived during his absence?

“Your Graces,” Miss Starling said, arriving before them too quickly. “What a delight it is to find the three of you already in attendance.”

Anthony forced a smile while Callum and Brody both gave a short bow.

“You’re looking particularly lovely this evening, Miss Starling,” Callum told her smoothly.

“Why thank you.” She smiled at them each in turn before letting her gaze meet Anthony’s. “May I offer you my dance card, Your Grace?”

A prickly sort of discomfort erupted on Anthony’s skin as she held the dreaded card toward him. Placed in a horrid position where turning her down would not only breach his agreement but also appear unspeakably rude, Anthony took the card with great reluctance and considered the choices. He knit his brow and clenched his jaw as he grabbed the pencil that had been attached with a creamy silk ribbon. Thankfully, she’d come to him first, which left all options open.

He placed his name next to a quadrille, which would hopefully lead to the least amount of contact between them. Good God, what had he been thinking when he’d asked Viscount Ebberly if she might be amenable to a possible match?

That particular conversation had clearly taken on a life of its own if a marriage contract had since been prepared. And contrary to his request, the viscount had clearly let details of Anthony’s visit slip if Miss Starling now saw herself on the way to the altar with him.

It was awful and monstrously stupid on Ebberly’s part to entertain such a notion without being certain it was something Anthony actually wished to go through with.

He handed the card back to Miss Starling and watched as the edge of her mouth dipped.

“Oh,” she muttered. “I thought you’d select the waltz.”

“On the contrary, I much prefer the quadrille.” Even though he wanted to run toward the nearest exit, he kept himself perfectly still while offering her the blankest stare he could muster. “But if you’d rather not dance it with me then—”

“No, no,” she quipped, her tone a touch too bright. “The quadrille will be lovely, I’m sure. I look forward to partnering with you, Your Grace.”

Anthony was about to tell her something of a similar nature when a movement near the entrance caught his attention. His gaze shifted and then he saw her, the most dazzling woman he’d ever laid eyes on.

For a second, it was difficult for him to comprehend that it was actually she. It took his brain a moment to realize what his eyes had already acknowledged.

He sucked in a breath as his heart leapt with joy.

She’d come. Miss Quinn was here. And she looked incredible.

Dressed in a cream-colored gown sewn from layers of lace and adorned with beadwork, she sparkled like a newly polished diamond in the candlelight spilling from wall sconces and chandeliers. Blindingly beautiful came to mind, Anthony decided as he started forward, his attention fixed solely upon the lady who’d captured his every attention.

“Westcliffe,” Miss Starling squeaked as he passed her. “Where are you going? You can’t just—”

Hopeful that his friends would have the good sense to distract her, he ignored her completely while cutting a path directly toward Miss Quinn. Much to his relief, he reached her before any other young men had a chance to pull themselves together and approach the new arrival. Her uncle stood by her side, his expression curiously nostalgic as he glanced toward the dance floor.

Odd that, Anthony thought for the briefest moment, that a man who worked in a bookshop would enter a ballroom as though coming home from a long trip abroad. He looked as polished as his niece in his evening black.

When Anthony had facilitated the invite, his greatest concern had been their ability to acquire the right clothes for such an event. Despite his limited funds, he’d even considered offering to cover the expense of a visit to a tailor and a modiste, only to change his mind.

Such a gesture might have been viewed as charitable and would without doubt have caused Miss Quinn to turn down both him and the chance to participate this evening.

Halting in front of her and her uncle, he swept an elegant bow before straightening to his full height. “Miss Quinn. Mr. Quinn. I’m so glad you’ve come. And if I may, Miss Quinn, I’d like to compliment you on your appearance. You are without doubt the loveliest lady in attendance.”

Her blush was immediate. “Thank you, Mr. Gibbs. It is kind of you to say so.”

“I merely state the truth,” he murmured, unable to take his gaze off her. For although her hair had been simply styled, the unpretentiousness of it only added to her overall charm. He loved that about her. He…did not dare finish that thought, so he cleared his throat instead and addressed her uncle. “Will you do me the honor of letting me ask your niece for a dance?”

“Certainly,” Mr. Quinn said with a grin, “though whether or not she accepts shall be up to her.”

“Of course. I wouldn’t have it any other way.” Anthony gave his attention back to Miss Quinn. “Did you pick up a dance card when you arrived?”

She nodded. “Yes, it’s…um…right here, although I should warn you that I’ve never taken lessons. I’ve only ever attempted a country dance when I was little and my mama tried to show me how it was done.”

“Not to worry.” He took the card, considered all of the options, and jotted his name down twice before handing it back.

“A country dance and the waltz?” She stared at him as though he’d just told her she’d have to perform a juggling act in five minutes.

“They are the simplest ones of all, especially since you have some experience with country dances. I will help guide you, so please don’t worry. And if you misstep I promise to do the same so you’re not the only one drawing attention. All right?”

She bit her lip. “I’m really not sure…”

“Don’t pass up the chance,” Mr. Quinn told her as he leaned closer. “This is a once in a lifetime opportunity, Ada. Enjoy it.”

“It will be fun,” Anthony added, “I promise.”

She paused just long enough to convey the extent of her doubt before expelling a deep breath. “Very well. But if anyone laughs at me I’m blaming you.”

“No will dare to do so,” he told her firmly. Taking quick stock of the room, he noted all the inquisitive stares directed their way. A fierce sense of protectiveness caused his hands to clench into fists. He met her gaze. “I can assure you.”

Her features softened and it appeared as though she intended to say something more, but whatever it might have been was left unsaid as another young lady came to join them. Anthony immediately recognized her as Lord Rosemont’s daughter, Lady Emily

“Good evening, Ada. Mr. Quinn,” said Lady Emily. “I’m sorry I didn’t see you arrive or I would have come over sooner.”

“It’s quite all right,” Mr. Quinn said, “Mr... er…Westcliffe, that is, came to greet us. Are the two of you perchance acquainted?”

“A little,” Lady Emily said. She smiled at Anthony while he informed her it was lovely to see her again.

“We’ve met at a few other social events,” he said, “but we’ve never danced with one another. Perhaps you’d care to change that this evening, my lady? If your dance card permits?”

“Certainly, Your Grace.” Lady Emily handed him her card and he wrote his name down next to two more dances. As long as he filled all the slots with other partners, he wouldn’t be free for additional dances with Miss Starling.

Remembering her, he threw a glance over his shoulder and saw that his friends had positioned themselves in a manner that stopped her from chasing after him. He sent them both his silent thanks while Lady Emily mentioned her father being nearby.

“He’s having a chat with some of his friends,” she said. “Perhaps you’d like to join him, Mr. Quinn? I’d be happy to make the introduction.”

“Thank you.” Mr. Quinn clasped his hands behind his back and looked every bit the part of an upper-class gentleman. “I’d appreciate that, Lady Emily.”

“In the meantime,” Anthony said, conscious of the fact that Brody and Callum would not be able to keep Miss Starling at bay forever, “I’d like to invite you to take a tour of the room with me, Miss Quinn. We can have refreshments, if you like.”

“Thank you, but…” She gave her full attention to her uncle. “Wouldn’t you rather I join you?”

“Not at all,” Mr. Quinn informed her. “I’ll be fine on my own and so shall you, provided you stay in the ballroom.”

“Of course, Uncle James.”

Mr. Quinn smiled at her with endless amounts of fondness. “Relax, Ada. Enjoy your evening out.”

Miss Quinn tracked his movements as he disappeared into the crowd with her friend, a slight crease on her brow giving evidence of her concern.

“You worry about him,” Anthony remarked.

She nodded and turned her attention back to him. “Of course I do. He’s like a father to me, and while I know events such as this aren’t as foreign to him as they are to me, I fear for him because of that. The confidence with which he has approached this evening could lead to terrible disappointment or worse.”

“How so?” Anthony asked as he offered his arm and proceeded to steer her along the periphery of the room. Noting the frowns of displeasure that some of the people they passed wore, he sent them each an angry glare of warning.

Treat her unkindly and you shall have me to deal with.

“His decision to open a bookshop twenty years ago marked his exit from Society. Not that he or my father were ever among the upper crust, but they were accepted. Going into trade changed that for Uncle James. As far as I know, he and whatever friends he’d had before cut ties with each other. I am the only company he’s kept since I came to live with him eight years ago. That sort of seclusion marks a person, Mr. Gibbs.”

“So you worry he’ll be out of practice and say the wrong thing?”

“Partly. I’m also afraid he’ll mention the shop when someone asks about his background. He’s so proud of what he’s built and for good reason, but no one here will want to rub shoulders with a shopkeeper. At best, they’ll make an excuse to quit his company; at worst, they’ll make a veiled comment. Either way, his enthusiasm over this evening is likely to see him hurt.”

Anthony considered this while keeping a careful eye trained on Miss Starling’s position. She’d managed to get away from his friends but did not seem to know where he’d gone just yet. He dipped his head closer to Miss Quinn’s ear and told her, “Your consideration toward your uncle is very commendable, and while I realize it might seem impossible for you to do so, I would advise you to try and ignore these concerns.”

“Mr. Gibbs, I—”

“Your uncle is a grown man, not a child. I think you’ll find him more able to deal with any potential unpleasantries than you give him credit for.” When she merely flattened her mouth and turned her gaze toward the point in which they were headed, Anthony asked, “What of your father? Did he remain in Society until his death?”

“I suppose he might have attended some social functions if he’d been around to do so.” This was said with just enough bitterness in her voice to inform Anthony that her relationship with her father had not been the best. “When Mama died, he decided it was time to live the life he’d always dreamt of. He set off for South Africa immediately after the funeral, leaving me in the care of my two older sisters. When he returned two years later, he brought some diamonds back with him – a few for each of my sisters to sell so they could improve their dowries, and the rest to finance his subsequent adventure.”

“And for you?”

She took a deep breath. “I was only eleven years old at the time. He assured me he’d bring me some diamonds too when he returned from his next voyage.”

“But he never did,” Anthony said, getting a picture of what Miss Quinn’s adolescence had been like.

“He got sick on that trip – contracted some tropical ailment from which he failed to recover. He died with less than twenty pounds in his bank account, which was barely enough to pay his solicitor what was owed.”

“I’m dreadfully sorry.” Her story reminded him he had to do better. His sisters depended upon it. If anything were to happen to him right now, they’d be in dire straits, with no other recourse than to marry post haste. Still, there was one uplifting piece of information to be gleaned from all of this. Miss Quinn was not a complete nobody. Even though her birthright had faded through lack of use and her uncle had chosen to work for a living, she was gentry.

He considered her elegant profile as she gave a brief nod. “I appreciate your saying so, Mr. Gibbs, and your willingness to listen to what most would deem a bit of a gloomy story.”

“It might well be, but it’s your story, Miss Quinn, and as such it matters to me a great deal.”

She jerked her chin upward, allowing her gaze to catch his and letting him see the incomprehension there. Her lips parted and it appeared she was struggling to find the right words, attempting to figure out what to say.

Eventually she dropped her shoulders and told him frankly, “I’m not sure I understand you. We are from different worlds, you and I, yet you seem intent on sweeping me off my feet. Only to let it be known you’re attached to Miss Starling, something I fear you might not have told me had she not made it abundantly clear when we met her in the park. And then you arrange for me to come here, for it must have been you who ensured I received an invitation. I’ve asked Emily and she denied any involvement.”

“You’re correct. I did ask Axelby to include you and your uncle on the guest list when I heard he was hosting a ball.”

“Why?” She looked as baffled as a puppy who’d just been denied a treat. “I honestly fail to see the point.”

They reached the refreshment table where a few older matrons were gathered. They greeted Anthony with polite smiles, but when he introduced Ada, their expressions grew visibly strained.

“Are you perchance related to Mr. Quinn, the bookshop owner?” Countess Bournerly asked, peering at Ada through her quizzing glass. She was a buxom, thin-lipped, woman with auburn hair and sharp brown eyes.

“Indeed. He’s my uncle,” Ada replied, her voice soft but even.

Lady Bournerly sniffed and promptly straightened her posture. Her friends, Baroness Fiddlebee and Viscountess Sillerton, raised their chins and peered down their noses at Ada.

“Well,” Lady Bournerly said, “I’d not have expected to find you here.”

Fury raced along Anthony’s spine. He leaned toward the detestable women. “Miss Quinn is here at my personal request.”

“A request Axelby would have done well to refuse,” Lady Bournerly murmured while matching his glare with one of her own.

”How dare you?”

“Social rules exist for a reason, Duke. Our set should not be mingling with theirs, however much we might wish it were otherwise.”

Before he could think of a fitting rebuff that didn’t involve cursing the woman with every expletive known to man, she’d swept from his presence, taking her friends with her.

Anthony took a deep breath and expelled it, making a conscious effort to try and relax. He turned to Miss Quinn, whose eyes – so sparkling and bright just moments before – had dimmed.

“We shouldn’t have come.” She shook her head and began searching the room with her gaze, no doubt seeking her uncle. “We don’t belong here.”

“Nonsense.” Anthony set his hand against her arm, pressing his fingers into her flesh with such urgency that she flinched. He released her in the same instance. “Forgive me.”

“Of course.” The words contained so much sadness they made his heart clench.

“Ignore those women, Miss Quinn. They are beneath your notice.”

She gave a weary sigh. “They are members of the aristocracy.”

“All the more reason for them to have better manners.” Despite his lingering anger, he forced a hint of buoyancy to his voice. “Perhaps I’ll send them each a copy of The Mirror of The Graces.”

Much to his relief, her lips began to tremble until she was forced to press them together to keep from laughing. “I’m not sure they would appreciate that.”

“Frankly, I find that I do not care.” He gave her a warm smile. “Come, let’s enjoy the rest of the evening together while avoiding those who wish to ruin our fun.”

Putting the unpleasant encounter from his mind, he helped her secure a glass of punch. He took one too and drank down a mouthful before addressing their earlier discussion. “You asked me why I wanted you here this evening, and the truth is it’s because you left the park before I was able to offer an explanation. While I did consider returning to the shop and forcing the subject, I decided that might have appeared too pushy. You see, as much as I wanted to tell you how things really stand between me and Miss Starling, I wanted you to have the choice of whether or not you wanted to hear me out.”

“An invitation to meet you at a museum or for a walk would have had the same effect.”

“Yes, but I also wanted to do something special for you. I realize it’s proven a bit more uncomfortable than it should have,” he added when she raised her brows. “All of that aside, I believed this was something you might not have the chance to experience otherwise. Plus, it allows us the chance to dance.”

She rolled her eyes. “Please don’t remind me.”

He grinned and linked his arm with hers once more so they could resume their tour. “My situation pertaining to Miss Starling is not as it seems. She and I are not engaged to be married.”

“But she said…” Miss Quinn gasped. “Did she lie about the contract because she thought me a threat?”

“I don’t believe so, though seeing you as a threat was surely her reason for bringing it up.” He drew Miss Quinn closer, allowing the length of her arm to brush his. “The fact is I went to her father, Viscount Ebberly, a few weeks ago, when the extent of my financial troubles hit me for the first time. Miss Starling has the largest dowry of any woman currently on the marriage mart. Offering her a title in exchange for her fortune seemed like a good idea after spending a sleepless night hopelessly trying to find a path forward. So I met with her father in order to mull it over – see if he might be amenable to it.”

“And I take it he was?”

“Very much so. His enthusiasm, however, had a rather rousing effect on me. I immediately regretted going to him and made it clear that I’d yet to decide if marriage would be the right answer. He agreed, but then he made me an offer I couldn’t refuse, namely for Miss Starling to help my sisters with their entrance into Society in exchange for me spending time with her. He clearly imagined this leading to courtship and marriage. Especially if he’s already drawn up a contract in preparation for an eventual proposal.”

“Oh dear. That does sound like a bit of a bind though I do understand your reason for entering into such an agreement. Is there a chance Viscount Ebberly and Miss Starling might force your hand?” The genuine concern in her voice gave him hope.

“They could try if they were extremely determined, but I’m not sure they’ll dare. Miss Starling may be intent on becoming my duchess, but she’s smart enough to know that will never happen through underhanded means, like spreading gossip or placing an announcement in the papers. Although I may be struggling to fill my coffers, my position and the connections that come with it are impressive, Miss Quinn. I’ll discredit her in a second if she dares to cross me like that.”

“A notion you may want to keep in mind now since she seems to be heading our way.”

Anthony glanced in the direction Miss Quinn was looking and muttered a curse. Well, it was time. He couldn’t expect to avoid Miss Starling forever unless he fled England. Considering they’d been present in the same room for the past half hour, it was rather impressive that he’d been able to do it for as long as he had.

“Your Grace,” she said, gliding into his path with the sort of syrupy smile he detested. “It’s time for our dance.”

Already? He glanced toward the dance floor and saw other couples take their positions for the quadrille. A brittle grimace was the best he could manage. “So it is. If you will excuse me, Miss Quinn?”

“By all means.” Miss Quinn sent Miss Starling a kind smile and retreated a step so the other woman could take his arm. “Lovely to see you again. I hope you enjoy the dance.”

Miss Starling blinked. Her grip on Anthony lessened ever so slightly. “I…um…thank you.”

Anthony gave Miss Quinn a look he hoped would convey more than gratitude. Truth was, he was downright impressed by the level of class she’d just shown. The lack of hostility she conveyed toward a woman who wasted no time marking her territory was precisely in line with what he’d expect from his future wife.

This thought had him turning a bit too sharply and bumping into Miss Starling, who promptly gave him a haughty look of displeasure before replacing the ugly expression with something closer to adoration. Sickening, was all that came to mind in that instant. He sent Miss Quinn a sheepish look over his shoulder while moving toward the dance floor, his heart bouncing lightly when he caught her answering grin.

Once the dance was over, he”d find a way to spend more time with her, something that not only bolstered his spirits but filled him with purpose and excitement.