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“Don’t worry, Grandmother will make sure that someone looks after him,” Annabelle reassured her. “She has a special fondness for Tristan, you know. Says he reminds her of her late husband at that age—all mischief and curious questions.”

As the carriage turned a bend in the road, a beautiful view of rolling hills bathed in the golden light of late afternoon unfolded before them.

Emma gazed out at the serene scene, weighing her son’s need for proper masculine guidance against her instinct to protect him.

“Maybe you’re right,” she finally admitted, her decision coming with a small sigh of resignation.

She knew that she couldn’t keep him in a glass case, no matter how much she wished to shield him from every possible danger. And since everyone agreed that Lord Griggs was a responsible sportsman, herself included, she couldn’t deny him this opportunity to meet peers his age and maybe find a male mentor amongst the gentlemen who would attend.

“Fantastic!” Annabelle exclaimed, clapping her hands in delight before turning to give Emma a reassuring look. “Grandmother will be thrilled to see Tristan there. And don’t fret—the younger boys usually just carry the game bags instead of handling the weapons.”

Sucking in a deep, calming breath, Emma nodded, feeling the tension in her shoulders start to ease. And she actually found herself looking forward to that day.

She’d let her worries get ahead of her, but all she had to do was share them with her friends, and now everything just looked so… small. As though she’d worried for nothing.

He might be there, too. The Beast.

The thought sent a strange flutter through her chest—an odd mix of excitement and nervousness, curiosity tinged with caution.

How strange that a man she had only met twice, and under such unfortunate circumstances, could occupy her mind so persistently. It was quite unusual, unsettling even, and definitely inconvenient.

And yet… inconvenient or not, against her better judgment, Emma found that she was looking forward to seeing him there.

* * *

“What a lucky morning it is for hunting. Wouldn’t you agree? The air has that refreshing crispness that makes the game lively yet not so jumpy that tracking them becomes a challenge.”

Lord Griggs’ enthusiasm for the day’s sport radiated through the gathered crowd with the kind of ease that comes from a man who knew how to host these events.

His sun-kissed complexion, a testament to years spent outdoors, glowed with excitement as he took in the gentlemen gathered on the east lawn of Griggs Manor, where the morning sun cast long shadows over the dew-kissed grass.

Emma watched the scene unfold from her seat on the terrace, where the ladies had gathered to prepare for their own activities.

The difference between the men and women was striking on mornings like this. The gentlemen, clad in their tweed hunting gear, meticulously checked their firearms, while the ladies settled into their silks and muslins, parasols angled against the sun as they awaited the start of Pall-Mall.

It would have been so very dull if not for Tristan running down there. The anticipation of watching him set her nerve endings afire.

Her eyes were fixed on him even now. Her son was standing a bit away from the main hunting group, his lean frame practically vibrating with excitement.

He had been a whirlwind that morning, devouring his breakfast and throwing on his riding clothes in such a rush that his cravat was now slightly askew, despite Emma’s best efforts to fix it before they left. The boy’s eagerness filled her with warmth but also a twinge of worry—his adventurous spirit clashed with her instinct to keep him safe.

“Your boy seems quite eager for the chase,” remarked the Dowager Viscountess Oakley, her voice a mix of authority and amusement that had defined her presence in the local ton for nearly forty years.

Even in her advanced age, she held herself with a regal air, her sharp gaze peeking out from beneath the elegant brim of her morning cap.

They watched Tristan giggle as he joined the other children. True enough, he was the youngest of them all, but the other boys didn’t leave him behind or despise him because of it. Emma felt as though she would cry, truly.

Had she worried for naught all this time?

“You need not worry, dear Emma. I’ll make sure Lord Griggs keeps a close eye on him.” The Dowager Viscountess smiled at her.

Emma had no choice but to respond in kind, her lips curling into a genuinely delighted smile.

The formidable Dowager Viscountess gave her a warm pat on the shoulder and strolled over to their host, moving with the kind of confidence that suggested she had never needed to rush to capture anyone’s attention.

Emma watched as the woman struck up what seemed to be a pleasant conversation with Lord Griggs, and the occasional glance toward Tristan made it clear what they were discussing.

“How fortunate that my nephew has such generous supporters,” a smooth voice chimed in from behind her, sending a cold shiver down her spine.