Rowles wondered what she’d meant to say originally. Was there a suitor in Joan’s life? Perhaps a gentleman she favored and had confided her interest in to her friend? It was well known that Joan was a close acquaintance of the Duchess of Wesley. His mind circled with curiosity, but he pushed it aside as Quin addressed him.

“And you, are you well?”

“As can be expected,” Rowles answered. “I’ll be doing better if I can ever get back to Cambridge. Tell me I am not the only one who desperately misses that place.”

Quin shook his head. “Every day. Someday we’ll be old and have sons to carry on the title and we shall return to teaching, you and I. We’ll be the disagreeable old codgers who torment the new students.”

Rowles chuckled at the thought. “Someday indeed.” Quin was far ahead in that department. No doubt he’d be boasting several heirs in the next few years. However, Rowles didn’t share that same optimistic outlook. To have heirs, one needed to have a wife, something he was without.

Thankfully.

Yet his traitorous eyes shot to Joan. Her expression was restrained, as if diligently working to be proper and not give in to the wide and dramatic smile that had so captivated him earlier that day. He was thankful for her restraint. The thought of other gentlemen being on the receiving end of one of her brilliant looks made his fists clench.

That smacked of jealousy.

And he had no right to such a strong emotion. Yet there it was, without invitation, and he suspected it wasn’t leaving anytime soon. As if spurred on by the offending feeling, he approached Morgan. “And how are you this evening? Better?”

Morgan shot him a teasing glare. “About as good as you are.”

“Ah, then you are excellent,” Rowles replied with a smirk. He took in the room and noticed the furtive peeks cast at them. “If anything, I think our bruising makes us more dashing, maybe lending a dangerous air to our persons.” He shrugged and turned to his friend.

“Speak for yourself. I am dashing and dangerous naturally.”

“And humble and reserved,” Rowles said with a hint of sarcasm.

“He’s also surly and temperamental,” Joan interjected, turning to include herself in their conversational circle.

“I don’t remember asking you,” Morgan said dryly.

“Since when have you needed to ask me for my opinion?” Joan matched his expression, battling him with her wit.

Rowles couldn’t restrain his amusement and watched the two of them enjoying the dynamic. He missed that sort of good-natured sibling rivalry. He’d had a tumultuous relationship with Robert, largely due to his mother’s favoritism, but they were still brothers and teased, fought, and enjoyed the bond of blood.

“Unfortunately, I do not need to ask you for your thoughts since you offer them so freely,” Morgan chimed in, bringing Rowles back to the conversation.