“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.”
