Venetia’s initial response was amusement. She was not about to chase Quinn. At any rate, making him fall deeply in love with her would likely be an impossible task. At the same time, she couldn’t stifle a tiny kernel of exhilaration at the challenging prospect….
Venetia mentally shook her head. She shouldn’t let herself indulge in wishful thinking. It was purely a fanciful dream, that Quinn would love her so much that he would never stray from the marriage bed.
He felt something for her, however, she was sure of it. He made her feel warm and secure and wanted. Surely that was not all mere illusion? And unquestionably her own feelings for him w
ere deepening. Of late they felt new, sweetly raw and uncertain….
No, she would be utterly foolish to consider pursuing him, Venetia scolded herself. And yet…she could imagine what it would be like if Quinn were her lover, her love, her joy.
At that novel thought, Venetia was beset by a whole host of contrary emotions, yearning the chief among them. That and the urge for self-protection. If she were to fall in love with Quinn and he betrayed her, she would be devastated.
Yet was the chance worth taking? It was true that she couldn’t be hurt if she never gave her heart, but perhaps the possible pain was worth the risk—
“So this is where the two of you have been hiding.”
Venetia gave a start as Quinn appeared at her side. Evidently he had come in search of her when the music ceased.
While Venetia was finding her tongue, Kate smiled brightly up at him. “We were not hiding, cousin. I was just discussing my theory with Venetia.”
He let out a sigh of acute exasperation. “I hoped you would spare her your fanciful nonsense.” Shifting his gaze, he glanced down at Venetia. “I’m afraid this is Kate’s notion of matchmaking. She has made a nuisance of herself since she was a tot, badgering us all with her demented theory.”
“By now Venetia knows I am the romantic in our family,” Katharine retorted cheerfully. “And I collect I deserve to crow a little. If not for me, you wouldn’t be wed to her now. It all started with my theory.”
“But you had the wrong legend for me. Venetia and I have more in common with Shakespeare’s Shrew.”
Katharine laughed. “Perhaps you do. Your ripostes with Venetia resemble Katharina and Petruchio’s in the Bard’s comedy. I always thought my legend would be The Taming of the Shrew, but I can see now how it would fit you better, Quinn.”
Just then, a gentleman came up to claim Katharine for a pair of country dances. With a charming smile, she excused herself, leaving Quinn alone with Venetia.
Frowning slightly, she thought back to what she remembered of Shakespeare’s comedy. Katharina, the headstrong elder sister of modest daughter Bianca, had scared away all of Bianca’s suitors with her shrewish tongue until Petruchio appeared and promised to turn Katharina into an obedient bride.
When understanding dawned, Venetia gave Quinn an arch glance. “So I am the shrew?”
The gleam was back in his eyes, and so was the provocative devil. “You must admit you can be a real termagant when you choose. And you blighted your sister’s prospects of marrying me.”
“You never mentioned the parallels before.”
“Because I knew you would bristle. I was bristling myself at the idea of being Pygmalion. Kate should have known better than to think I would ever want a statue for my wife.”
“No, I can’t imagine you would,” Venetia returned with genuine amusement.
“I would rather have a shrew.”
“Would you?” she asked skeptically.
“A shrew is more interesting by far. I am happy with the sister I married.”
His announcement startled Venetia a bit, even though she knew he was jesting. For a moment, she stared up at him, wondering if he could divine that she was thinking about the possibility of pursuing him. His eyes were so blue and clear she felt as though he could see to her soul.
Finally he held out his arm to her. “Would you do me the honor of dancing, my love?”
At the endearment, she again felt that foolish, romantic surge of warmth. His tenderness was merely a show for the benefit of their critical audience, yet unbidden another small kernel of hope flared to life.
Quinn could so easily break her heart. But if she had to lose in the end, shouldn’t she at least have the satisfaction of going down fighting?
The warmth Venetia felt lasted throughout the evening and carried over on the drive home as she sat beside Quinn in the carriage. By rights she should be weary at such a late hour—nearly three o’clock in the morning—but her spirits were so light that energy surged through her.
“I believe we can count the ball a grand success,” she declared with elation. “Ophelia seems very happy to have so many potential suitors. Indeed, she was glowing.”