He bent and kissed her nose. “I’d like nothing more than to stay here with you all night, but even if we’ve made a muddle of the event, we can’t desert our own ball. I’ll leave first. Then you follow in a few moments.”
He bent to retrieve his tailcoat, and she straightened her skirts. Then she helped him arrange his clothes and hair, and he righted hers as best he could.
“There.” She patted his chest. “You look quite presentable. How do I look?”
Her skirts were wrinkled, one shoulder of her gown kept falling off, and her hair had come loose and was trailing down her back in large sections. But Quint only saw her rosy cheeks and her bright eyes. “You look beautiful,” and he bent and kissed her swollen lips, taking the time to taste them. She was so sweet. Every time he kissed her, it was a different experience.
And every time he kissed her, she kissed him back, matching his mood—fervent, tender, exploratory. With more willpower than he thought he possessed, he drew away from her. “We take a risk if we continue that much longer. I cannot wait to get you home. Soon.” He kissed her again, then quickly opened the door and reemerged in the ballroom.
The orchestra was playing a slow, stately piece, and the dancing went on as before. Catherine’s cousin Ashley was holding court with a bevy of admirers under one of the Corinthian columns and Catherine’s other cousin, Josephine, was dancing with Lord Westman. He didn’t see her cousin Lady Madeleine or her aunts and uncles, and he didn’t see Hudson.
Good. Quint hoped the man was in his dingy office writing his wretched story. And then Quint saw Catie emerge from their rendezvous place. She looked sweet and pretty, though still a bit disheveled, and he forgot about the reporter and the story and just enjoyed watching her.
CATHERINE FELT AS THOUGH everyone in the room had ceased what they were doing and were watching her walk through the servants’ door. It seemed the whole room was silent, and there was only the sound of her heartbeat, pounding incessantly in her ears. The beat echoed her thoughts: they know, they know, they know.
With a deep breath, she settled against the wall. There was nothing and no one to fear here. Elizabeth was gone. Quint had stood by her side. He had all but told her he loved her just now in the servant’s corridor. What was she afraid of?
She spotted Maddie coming toward her and plastered a smile on her face. “Are you well? I heard what happened with Lizzy. I wish I’d been there.”
Catherine smiled at her cousin’s clenched fists and determined expression. “Lord Valentine was there. He stood by me.”
Maddie raised a brow. “Of course, he did.”
Catherine glanced across the room and met Quint’s gaze. He was always looking at her now, always watching her, his eyes full of promise. As she watched, he winked at her.
“Oh, Lord,” Maddie said, and Catherine drew her gaze away from her husband.
“What’s wrong?”
“Josie and Ashley were right. You do love him.”
Catherine took her cousin’s hand. “Yes, I do. I’m sorry, but I don’t think I can be a member of the Spinsters’ Club any longer.”
Maddie laughed. “Oh, that old promise. I’m happy for you. And now I suppose you’d better be off. Here he comes.”
Catherine looked toward Quint and saw that indeed he was coming for her. She went willingly into his arms.
“Let’s go home,” he murmured into her ear.
“Are you certain?” she asked. “We should not leave the ball so early.”
“I don’t care. I want to be alone with you. You’re all that matters.”
And then he swept her into his arms. She laughed at the surprise—her own as well as that of the people standing near them. There was a round of applause, and then she was being carried through the ballroom, down the steps, and into the night. He ordered their carriage and set her down, pulling her into his arms and holding her tightly. She closed her eyes, hearing his heart beat against cheek. She felt safe and wanted.
“You’re a wonderful man, Quint,” she whispered. “I’ve never thought anything less of you. I want you to know how happy I am that you married me.”
He tilted her head up so that she looked into his clear brown eyes. “And I want you to know—”
“Isn’t this sweet?” The low, malice-filled voice filled the quiet night.
Catherine pulled back and let out a yelp when she saw her father standing in the shadows. Of course, he was there. Catherine shook her head. Had she really thought she would escape without seeing him tonight? It just seemed so unfair. She’d survived the ball and her sister, only to be faced with her father. And Edmund Fullbright was drunk. She knew that right away. Drunk and mean.
“Mr. Fullbright,” Quint said, pushing Catherine behind him. “I don’t remember inviting you.”
“You didn’t,” her father said, swaying into the light. “And you made sure I couldn’t get in.” He lurched to the side, and Catherine noted that while he was dressed in evening clothes, his appearance was slovenly. His cravat was loose, and his breeches were stained. “Now, is that any way to treat your family?” Her father slurred the words at her.
Quint clutched her hand, holding it tightly to reassure her. “I hardly think you are the man to speak on that subject.”
