Chapter 43
Livy
Quinton’s familiar russet brown curls landed in her field of vision as he approached to gather her for their dance. She lit up inside at seeing her friend, like a little sister preening before her big brother.
He bowed politely, arm extended. “Miss Forester, shall we?”
Thank goodness Quinton was here to claim her first dance—well, technically, she’d demanded he take it. The crush of unfamiliar gentlemen circling her and her aunt had left her jittery. She knew she’d be fine, but apprehension still lingered. Ease into the night with a friend.
Dipping into a quick curtsy, she placed her hand in his. “Yes, Mr. Sheffield.” Something soft filled her as she stared up into her friend’s warm bronze eyes. It was a feeling of family.
And that feeling only intensified as they danced.
Quinton was an overenthusiastic dance partner, cracking witty jests the entire time.
He’d always been that way; it was why she’d ended up in a pile of hay after one round with him growing up.
With each breathless laugh, with each clap of her hands to the beat, the anxiety slowly slipped further and further away.
Her grin held no artifice as she and Quinton stepped forward to circle each other. “What brings you to London, Mr. Sheffield?”
“Well, you see. There is this golden-haired imp who got a familiar glint in her blue eyes last I saw her. I came to ensure London was still standing.” Tossing back his russet curls, he winked at her as they circled each other.
She rolled her eyes at him. “I am anything but dangerous.”
Quint scoffed. “You, Miss Forester, are diabolical. I wasn’t certain if I should be more afraid for Mr. Thorton or for London. And would you look at that? I was correct. Promenading with the Dowager Duchess of Ironcrest. Don’t forget about us peasants when you’re wearing your crown.”
She couldn’t prevent the snort from escaping her. She caught her breath as they stepped apart and circled with the dancers to their right.
As they came together again, she said, “I’ve missed your teasing, Quint.” She lowered her voice. “I can’t explain how comforting it is to see a familiar face.”
He smiled fondly at her. “It doesn’t appear you need a friendly face. You have made quite the impression on the ton. And I’m not surprised in the least. You never have given yourself enough credit.”
His gaze locked on something to her left, and his smile faltered. “Though I know where some of the blame lies.”
She followed his gaze and found Warren. His stare was locked on her, completely ignoring his companions.
“Are you referring to Warren?” she murmured, slowly returning her attention to Quinton.
Dimples gone, Quinton’s smile didn’t quite meet his eyes. “Warren is a great friend. But he is not without flaws.”
Livy tried to contain her surprise. That wasn’t something she’d ever expected Quint to admit. Warren and he were best friends, practically inseparable growing up. Honestly, sometimes she got the sense that Quint worshipped the ground Warren walked on.
They circled each other, and he murmured low to prevent being overheard. “Having sisters, I never would have tolerated a gentleman dallying with one of them as he did with you.”
They separated, and Livy opened and closed her mouth, unsure of how to respond.
When they came together again, he said, “I know his family and how much standing and title mean to them. I thought he was going to choose you over all that.”
They separated again, and Livy barely repressed her growl of frustration. A lively dance was not conducive to serious conversation.
They came back together, and Quint rushed out, “I was trying to keep my distance, not interfere. I was afraid that I was being biased, that I was blinded by—” He shook his head. “I’m sorry I didn’t step in earlier, Liv,” he whispered.
The music faded to an end, and they stepped back. Quinton bowed as she lowered into a curtsy.
As they made their way back to her aunt, she gave him a small squeeze, looking at his stoic profile. “I’m not sorry.”
He glanced at her sharply, a question in his eyes.
“I’m not sure I would have ever come to London if it weren’t for Warren. I have discovered much about myself here. I’m no longer that na?ve woman anymore.”
“I can see that.” He smiled, his eyebrows lifting mockingly high. He looked down his nose at her, that familiar teasing glimmer back in his warm whisky eyes. “You are now the crème de la crème of the ton.”
She arched a haughty brow. “And lucky you, on my arm.”