Chapter 11

Pleasure simmered within Ada’s heart as she watched Mr. Gibbs walk away. Despite the blatant criticism she’d been subjected to earlier, he’d managed to cheer her. The information he’d since imparted had turned her world upside down once more. It left her feeling slightly giddy. He wasn’t attached. Moreover, Miss Starling’s dogged pursuit of a man with no interest in her filled Ada with sympathy as opposed to displeasure.

Honestly, she could face a dozen more Countess Bournerlys right now, and her current mood would not be dimmed.

“Did you learn something worth sharing?” Emily asked as she sidled up next to her.

Ada took a sip of punch. The drink was wonderfully refreshing. She glanced at her friend and nodded. “He’s not engaged.”

“That’s excellent news indeed.” Emily smiled. “In case you were wondering, your uncle is having a marvelous evening as well. He and Papa have become fast friends.”

Despite the relief this comment evoked, Ada had to ask, “No one has questioned his presence?”

“Not at all.” Emily frowned. “Why? Did someone say something to you?”

Not wanting to concern her, Ada shook her head. “Not at all. I’m glad I came.”

Pleasure shone in Emily’s eyes. “By the way, that gown suits you much better than it ever did me.”

“Thank you once again for lending it to me. And for helping Uncle James find appropriate clothing as well. We’re indebted to you.”

“Nonsense,” Emily said with a wave of her gloved hand. “True friendships never have debts attached. I’m merely happy to help.”

“Nevertheless.” Ada gave her friend a warm smile. “You truly are one in a million, Emily. Any man would be lucky to have you. Is there no one here for you to consider?”

“I’m afraid not, which is all right as far as I’m concerned. As rebellious as this may seem, I’m not really looking to marry. If it happens it happens, if not then…” She shrugged. “Point is, I absolutely refuse to settle and… Oh dear.”

“Oh dear, what?” Ada followed Emily’s line of vision until she spotted Mr. Gibbs’s friends. They were chatting between themselves while walking in their general direction.

“I probably ought to go see how Papa is faring,” Emily said, retreating a step.

“But—” The Duke of Stratton shifted his gaze and glanced toward them at that exact moment. His eyes widened and he instantly halted his progress. The Duke of Corwin turned to him with a questioning look.

“Please forgive me,” Emily said in a rush. “I’ll be sure to catch up with you later.”

Ada blinked as Emily fled. It wasn’t until she was gone that Stratton resumed his progress. By the time he reached her, the hard expression he’d worn just moments before had vanished behind a friendly demeanor.

“Miss Quinn,” he said. “We’re so glad you chose to join us this evening.”

“It’s a pleasure seeing you both again,” she said, voicing the sentiment with some hesitancy while frowning in the direction Emily had vanished. Something was odd about her friend’s response just now, to say nothing of Stratton’s.

“Has Westcliffe mentioned the progress we’ve made?” Corwin asked. “We saw the two of you chatting and thought he might have told you about it.”

“I don’t believe he had the chance,” Ada said. “We spoke of other things, but please, feel free to enlighten me.”

Stratton placed his hand gently against her elbow and steered her toward the edge of the room to a spot where no one else stood. “We’ve almost finished the first draft.”

“Truly?” When both men grinned and nodded as though they’d just conquered the highest peak, Ada nearly threw her arms around them in what would have been considered a most undignified hug. She beamed at them instead. “But that’s incredible news. I can’t wait to read it. Did you make things harder for the earl and his love interest? Were his sisters’ reputations at stake, and if so, how did you resolve it? Oh, and—”

“We’re not revealing anything.” Corwin chuckled. “You’ll simply have to read the book yourself in order to find out how we figured out all the puzzle pieces.”

“Took some effort,” Stratton said, “but I do believe you were correct, Miss Quinn. The story is stronger for it.”

“And will surely be a marvelous success once published.” Ada could not hide her excitement. She shared in their joy as though she herself had written the book. “Any idea when it will be finished?”

“In the coming week, I reckon.” Corwin glanced toward the dance floor. “Westcliffe was right. Sharing the work enabled us to complete it much faster than we would have done otherwise.”

“It helps that we had nothing better to do than write,” Stratton muttered. “I think we’ve put in ten hours a day each for the past two weeks. We’re just struggling a bit to smooth the transitions now.”

“And to make sure that it reads from beginning to end as though it was written by the same author,” Stratton told her. “Fixing the inconsistencies has taken some time.”

“In one spot,” said Stratton, “Westcliffe had written about an upcoming ball. But when I continued writing, that ball was completely forgotten.”

“So what did you do?” Ada asked. The easiest solution would have been to not mention the ball in the first place.

Stratton pushed his hands into his pockets and shrugged. “After discussing the issue at length, I decided to write two additional chapters.”

“It was necessary,” Corwin explained. “Without the ball, the story lacked the fairy-tale element we were trying to achieve.”

“I’m thoroughly impressed,” Ada told them sincerely, “and proud of you all. Writing a novel is no small feat. Many aspire to do so but it takes time and dedication to actually get it done. Especially with revisions taken into account.”

“Believe me, I know,” Corwin said with a twinkle in his blue eyes. “But the truth is, I’ve actually enjoyed the experience. I think we all have.”

Stratton nodded. “Agreed. We’ve already discussed writing a second book once this one’s finished. The next step will likely be printing and publication.”

“I recommend proof-reading first,” Ada said. “A job I’ll happily undertake if you like.”

“We were actually hoping you would,” Corwin said. “I’m sure Westcliffe will want to discuss it further. In any event he’ll make sure you receive the manuscript once it’s done.”

“Thank you. I look forward to it.”

“Meanwhile, we’ll likely be biting our nails in anticipation of your verdict,” Stratton told her. He jutted his chin toward the dance floor. “Looks like the quadrille is over. Here comes Westcliffe now.”

“Thankfully without his most recent partner,” Corwin murmured so low Ada almost missed the remark.

“I see you’ve been entertained during my absence,” Mr. Gibbs said as he came to join them.

“Very much so,” Ada said and immediately followed the comment with, “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me you’ve almost finished the novel.”

“Ah…” He glanced around as if hoping to pluck an excuse out of thin air. His eyebrows snapped together. “I believe there were more pressing matters for us to discuss first.”

“Possibly,” she agreed. “And I’m not being critical of you. I’m just so ridiculously excited on all of your behalves.”

Mr. Gibbs grinned. “Thank you, Miss Quinn. I’m pleased to hear it.”

“She’s offered to proofread,” Stratton said.

“I would be honored to do so,” Ada informed them. “And since you know where to find me, you may drop the manuscript off as soon as it’s ready. I’m a quick reader too, so it shouldn’t take more than a couple of days to get you my notes.”

All three men’s eyebrows rose. “Notes?”

“Of course. I’m sure I’ll have some.” When they answered with blank looks she explained, “They will include some suggestions on things to elaborate on, corrections to be made, and possible alterations to the plot.”

“You cannot be serious. I thought you’d just look at spelling and grammar.” Corwin glanced at his friends, his rising panic visible in his wide-eyed expression. “Please tell me she’s having us on.”

“I don’t believe she is,” Stratton said while Mr. Gibbs looked like he was ready to toss himself over the side of a cliff. “Maybe we should ask someone else to proofread. My cousin’s ten-year-old son would probably do an excellent job.”

Ada scowled at them. “I realize this may not be what you wish to hear, but ask yourselves this: Would you rather publish a mediocre book or an excellent one? Which do you suppose will earn you more money?”

“Your point is annoyingly good,” Mr. Gibbs informed her in a dry tone.

“Thank you,” Ada chirped. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

He grinned. “I believe our set is about to begin. Shall we?”

“Is this the country dance or the waltz,” she asked as he escorted her to the dance floor.

“The waltz.” He guided her into position and turned her toward him, his left hand clasping hers while his right settled neatly against her waist. “Just follow my lead and you will be fine.”

Ada took a deep breath and prayed he’d be right. The music started and off they went with him sweeping her into a gentle rhythm that forced her feet to move in time with his. He’d been right. It wasn’t as hard as she’d thought, provided he led her in the correct direction and she kept her toes from stepping on his.

“Stop thinking about it,” he murmured, catching her slightly off guard.

“I beg your pardon?”

He gave her a shrewd look. “I can practically hear you counting the steps and your posture’s so rigid I’m struggling to turn you.”

“Sorry, but in case you missed my earlier remark, I’ve not done this before. It’s new to me and quite frankly terrifying.”

“Hmm. What’s your favorite flower?”

“I don’t see what that’s got to do with my fear of making a cake of myself.”

“Humor me, will you? I sent you several bouquets but I never learned which was your favorite.”

She sighed. “Peonies for their scent and anything yellow to brighten the mood.”

“What about food?”

“Food?” His questions were most peculiar.

“Yes. Do you favor pork, duck, lamb, veal, or fish, for example.”

“I recall having duck once when I was a child and remember it being extremely good. Besides that, I’m not really sure since we mostly eat chicken.”

“And what about treats. Sweetmeats or ice?”

“I really can’t say since I’ve never had either.”

“An error I shall set about rectifying as soon as possible. It’s also a wonderful reason to see you again in the near future, Miss Quinn.”

She felt her cheeks warm as his hand pressed a little more firmly against her back. How could she not fall for this man when he embodied everything noble and good, his previous lapse in financial judgment aside. But everyone made mistakes in their youth, and oh, how easy it would be for her to envision a life by his side.

Stop it, you fool. He’s a duke, not a butcher or even a vicar.

And yet, despite the futility of letting herself be swept away by his charm, she found herself saying, “I’d like that, Mr. Gibbs.”

He held her gaze, the intensity suggesting more than what she could ever hope for. And then to her shock and dismay he said, “It would please me if you would agree to call me Anthony.”

The distraction he’d weaved with his questions vanished like morning mist and caused her to stumble. The heel of her foot came down hard on his toes, which made him stumble too, and sent them both careening sideways toward another couple.

Somehow – with what could only be referred to as immense skill – he managed to right them and circumvent the other dancers before they ended up in a sprawl. Ada coughed, choking slightly from shock and the horror of anyone having witnessed the mishap.

“I’m so sorry,” she gasped.

“Don’t be. It was my fault for being so forward.” He eased them back into a smooth progression of the dance. “My apologies, Miss Quinn. I shouldn’t have been so careless.”

“It simply caught me a bit by surprise, that’s all.” They were moving slower than before, allowing her the time she needed to readjust her movements. “But I suppose we are friends, so if you’d rather I use your given name, then I shall respect that wish.”

His hand tightened around hers, the strength of his grasp assuring her there was no risk of her stumbling again. “In that case I’ll dare to be presumptuous and ask if I might call you Ada in return.”

Her heart bounced about with increased vigor, leaving her far more breathless than the dance. She swallowed and did her best to ignore the immediate flush she could feel in her cheeks. “I would be honored.”

The brilliant smile he gave her was proof that she’d made the right decision. She relaxed and allowed an answering grin, which bubbled over when he spun her in a wide circle.

“Would you like to take some fresh air on the terrace?” he asked once the dance was over.

She nodded. It was slightly stuffy inside and the dance had only made that more apparent. “I believe I’d like that.”

“Let’s go and inform your uncle then, so he won’t wonder where you’ve gone.”

His thoughtfulness and consideration left Ada slightly in awe. This wasn’t the sort of man a woman need fear. He wasn’t a dastardly Wickham. Nor was he the acerbic Mr. Darcy, who’d been her ideal romantic hero since reading Pride and Prejudice for the first time. If anything, his manner reminded her most of Mansfield Park’s Edward, and she rather likened her relationship with him to Edward’s friendship with Fanny Pryce. Even though they’d not known each other for nearly as long.

Nevertheless, she was comfortable with him and trusted him to have her best interests at heart, to never risk putting her reputation at risk, and to offer whatever support she might need.

She believed her uncle felt the same way, which was likely why he allowed their outdoor stroll without question. It might also have had a little to do with him having a smashing good time with Emily’s father, free from the censure she herself had been forced to endure.

Ada was glad to see him enjoying himself. It lifted her spirits and made her more comfortable accompanying Anthony outside. They exited through a set of French doors and strolled across the granite tile until they stood near the railing. Large torches placed at each corner bathed the terrace in an intimate glow. Additional torches strategically positioned throughout the garden offered just enough light for those who desired a more private stroll to remain within view.

A few people clustered together in various groups were silhouetted against the foliage lining the garden wall. Ada turned toward Anthony, a sudden need to know more about him prompting her to say, “I imagine a man like you, who’s always known he would one day inherit a prominent title, might feel as though his life’s path has been laid out for him since birth.”

“I suppose that’s true.” He placed one hand on the railing and leaned against it, affording him with a casual look. “No one has ever asked me what I’d like to do or accomplish, and I never bothered to wonder about it. Attending Eton was expected. So was attending Cambridge since that’s where Papa, Grandpapa, and all the other previous Dukes of Westcliffe went. My area of study was determined by Papa. Logic and philosophy, which I suppose is useful to some degree, though I rather imagine finance might have been better for me. Who knows?”

“Now that the choice is your own, might you decide to do something other than what was expected of you?” She hastily added, “Besides writing a book, I mean. Do you have aspirations?”

He chuckled softly while sliding his fingertips over the railing in a thoughtful sort of way. “I suppose my immediate goal is to see my sisters settled.”

“Of course, but what about something that’s purely for you?” Her pulse leapt slightly in response to her own forwardness. “What would you like for yourself if you could have anything in the world?”

A flicker of light caught his eyes, dancing there for the briefest second before he turned his head and it vanished. He dipped his chin and met her gaze, allowed his hand to discreetly catch hers while shielding the gesture with their bodies. His thumb stroked hers and it was as though he ignited her skin with that touch. She expelled a slow breath, unsure of what was happening right now but conscious that something was changing between them.

Time slowed. The laughter and chatter from the nearby revelers fell away until all Ada could hear was the steady beat of her heart. It was just the two of them now – a couple of friends and yet inexplicably so much more.

“You,” he murmured.