“Traitor,” Catie said.
Quint glanced at his wife. She did look tired, and her eyes were swollen.
“What we have to do is to find a way to make both parties happy.”
Quint raised his eyes to the ceiling. His wife’s cousin was obviously a politician in training, but if Lady Madeleine’s efforts would make Catherine stay, then he’d play along.
“Very well,” Quint said, trying to sound magnanimous, “what do you suggest?”
“A compromise,” Madeleine said. “Catie will agree to host your ball.”
Quint glanced at his wife. She nodded. “But that’s only provided you agree to a few conditions.”
“That’s right,” Lady Madeleine said. “Catie would like—”
“There are conditions?” Quint spat out. “This is a marriage, not a treaty negotiation.”
“It won’t be either if you keep interrupting,” his wife said. “I will leave.”
He refrained from rolling his eyes, and finally ground out, “Go on.”
“First of all, you have to be home for dinner every night.”
“Don’t be ridiculous—”
“Good night, Lord Valentine.” She rose and motioned for her cousin to follow.
Quint clenched his fists. Goddamn it! What the hell kind of negotiation was this?
“Catie,” he said, though his jaw was locked. She paused and looked over her shoulder. “Every night is a bit steep. Perhaps—”
She turned back and started for the door again. Quint closed his eyes. “Fine. I’ll be home for dinner every night. What else?”
She turned back to him, smiling. The smile almost made his concession worth it.
“You must help with the preparations for the ball. Your job is to deal with the invitations.”
“Fine. No problem.”
“Not one of your assistants. You. Personally,” Catherine said.
Quint frowned. “What difference does it make if I do it or Meeps?”
She shook her head. “If you’re going to argue, I’m going to call for the carriage.”
“I’m not going to argue,” Quint said, clutching the arms of his chair. “I agree. Put your things away. You’re staying.”
She smiled again. “Right away.”
To Quint’s relief, his wife picked up her valise and headed into the dressing room to unpack. He smiled. Finally.
“Obviously, you think you received the better end of the bargain.” Lady Madeleine was standing before him, hands on her hips. Quint’s smile faded.
“Two things,” she said. She gave him a look Quint supposed was meant to strike fear in his heart. “You had better fulfill your end of this bargain. Catie wants you home, and you can stop giving speeches and fawning over the prime minister long enough to be there for her.”
Quint did not so much as blink. “I do not fawn.”
Lady Madeleine shook her head. “One of these days, you are going to realize that there’s more to life than bills and debates. Cabinet posts and undersecretary positions are all well and good, but they won’t ease the loneliness. They won’t warm your bed, and they won’t comfort you when you’re old and sick. You will lose Catie if you take her for granted.”
