Page 18 of An Earl Most Inconvenient (Regency Mishaps #2)

CHAPTER 18

“ L ady Grace, may I join you?” Tristan said. He felt a strong sense of determination as he strode across the lawn towards her.

She looked up from where she was sitting on a wrought-iron bench, her fingers delicately tracing the edges of a book that lay open on her lap. “Of course, My Lord,” she replied warmly. “I would be delighted.”

He sat down next to her, enjoying the tranquility of the scene. She had chosen a rather secluded corner of the garden, and they were surrounded by fragrant blooms. It was moments like this when he felt truly grateful to be the earl of such a magnificent estate.

“You have chosen a perfect spot,” he remarked.

“I confess that I was searching for some peace, away from the other guests,” she replied. “We live a rather quiet life at home, and this party is is rather more company than I am used to.”

“Oh, would you prefer that I leave you alone?” Tristan said, feeling awkward suddenly. “It must be rather difficult for you, if you are not used to being around so many people.”

For all the time that he had spent so far with Lady Grace, he still did not feel entirely at ease in her company, sweet-natured though she was. And he sensed that although they talked a lot, they never really said anything of meaning. But he pushed the thoughts away as soon as they entered his mind.

She shook her head, and flashed him an open smile. “Not at all,” she insisted. “I am quite happy to be here with you.”

He settled beside her, trying to relax. “What tales does your book hold today?” he inquired, glancing at the pages.

“Ah, it is a rather dull account of local history that my sister found in your library,” she confessed with a playful sigh. “It is perhaps more to her taste than it is to mine. I find myself yearning for more adventure, more stories that whisk one away to far-off lands. Those are the kinds of books I like the most, where you can imagine yourself to be somewhere else completely.”

Tristan raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “You wish to travel, then? To see the world beyond our little corner of England? Or do you simply enjoy to escape in your mind?”

Grace smiled shyly. “Traveling far and wide is not something that I allow myself to dream of,” she said. “I do not think that it is in my future and I am at peace with that.”

Tristan returned her smile. “You may know this already, but I have traveled extensively - through the grand cities of Europe and the quaint villages of the countryside. There is a certain thrill in the unknown, a sense of freedom in leaving behind the familiar. Perhaps you would enjoy it, if the opportunity ever arose for you.”

“I think that reading about it will have to be enough for me,” Grace replied. “I am not brave enough to leave the confines of polite society, I do not think. It is not what I have been brought up for, at any rate.”

Tristan looked at her curiously, remembering the conversation he had had with Diana about his travels, only a few days ago. Her eyes had lit up when he had talked of his adventures, and he could imagine her wandering through the streets of Paris, or walking among the ruins of Greece. But Lady Grace…he was not so sure.

“You will be happy to live out your life in the drawing room, or the ballroom, then?” he asked.

She nodded. “I think that is my place in life, and I accept it,” she replied.

Tristan glanced away for a moment, imagining a reality that was somewhat different from that which lay before him. He shook his head briefly, trying to push the thoughts away, then focused his attention on Lady Grace again. She really was very pretty, he thought. No one could think otherwise. Her blonde hair was arranged on top of her head, but a few strands were falling down around her face. He realized, though, as he looked at her, that her prettiness did not spark any strong feelings in him. It was like looking at a painting, he thought. He could appreciate it, but that was all. It did not ignite any strong passions within him, although perhaps that was a good thing, he thought, a little wryly.

His thoughts flew, unbidden, to the memory of Diana sitting at her desk in the parlor, her hair falling about her face, and her fingers stained with ink. His heart jumped in his chest for a moment, but he forced himself to dismiss the thought.

“I admire you that you accept your place in the world,” Tristan said eventually. “It is something I have fought against myself, and it brings no peace. It is better to be realistic. Perhaps you will not be an intrepid traveler, and see the ruins of Rome or the canals of Venice, but I think that you will have a happy life, nonetheless. Or at least I hope that you do.”

“I hope that you do not think me dull,” Grace said. “I do not wish to live a mediocre life, or a boring one, but I think that a domestic life can bring happiness in and of itself.”

Tristan smiled. “I think you are very wise, Lady Grace.”

They sat a little while longer in silence. It was not awkward, though, Tristan realized, and he allowed himself to enjoy the moment. Hosting a house party was rather hard work, he reflected, and Lady Grace was right – a few moments of peace, away from the other guests, was something to be savored.

All too soon, though, he felt the pull of duty tugging at his heart. “I must go back to the house,” he said, getting up from the bench and smoothing his clothes. “I must speak with the cook about the dinner for tonight. I was rather hoping that my grandmother would deal with some of these details for me, but alas, she keeps forgetting, so I must make sure that I have covered everything. I cannot have my guests going hungry!”

Grace giggled. “I am sure no one will go hungry in this house, My Lord. The food has been most excellent; all the other guests have said so.”

“I should hope that no one would go hungry,” he agreed, “and I am very glad to hear that. Now, I will bid you farewell, and see you later on in the drawing room before dinner.” He turned on his heel and walked away, imagining for a moment some scenario in the future where Grace was his wife, and was looking after all the domestic details of their home, and managing all the entertaining. He had no doubt that she would do a perfect job of it. He wondered, as he walked towards the house, if she was thinking the same thing. Yet, there seemed to be a distance in the way she had spoken to him today. Not a disinterest, exactly – she would never be so impolite as to appear disinterested in him – but a sense that she was not quite so engaged by his company as she had been only a couple of days ago. He realize that the more he thought about it, the more he did not really mind; his feelings for Grace had never been strong, and he thought that perhaps they might develop over time. But the truth was that he suspected that he shared her indifference. No matter, though, he told himself; grand passion was not a prerequisite for the kind of marriage he had always had in mind for himself.

He reflected, as he made his way towards the kitchen, that perhaps his rather muted feelings for Lady Grace were safer than what he felt when he thought of her sister. But he could not allow himself to think of these things, he told himself. Instead, he plowed on with the duties of the day, working through the menus with the cook and agreeing every detail for this evening’s dinner. He wanted everything to be perfect, no matter what.

The drawing room was alive with the soft murmur of conversation, punctuated by the occasional peal of laughter, as the guests gathered for drinks before dinner.

“The house party has been a great success, I think.”

Diana looked at Lord Anthony Stoke, who was leaning towards her with an engaging smile as they stood together near the fireplace.

“Indeed, My Lord,” she replied. “I could not agree more.”

“And what do you think of this new trend for cocktails?” he went on, gazing at her rather intently.

Diana struggled to form an opinion for a moment. “I am sure that the earl has experienced many interesting things during his travels abroad,” she replied eventually. “It does not surprise me that he would want to try them in his own house.”

“Ah, he has told you of his adventures, has he?” Lord Anthony replied, raising a sardonic eyebrow.

Diana flushed, remembering the rumors that she had heard about the earl’s indiscretions in France. She hoped that Lord Anthony was not about to make a lewd comment. After Lord Pembroke’s behavior at dinner a few nights ago, she was not sure that she could face another similar encounter. But to her relief, he said nothing, and simply waited for her to respond to his comment.

“Lord Silvermere has been good enough to tell me some stories of his travels, that is true,” she replied. “He has seen a great many things in many different countries. I confess that I am rather jealous, although of course for a young lady it is not possible to travel in the same way.”

“He is a lucky man, to have had the freedom to travel when he was younger,” Lord Anthony observed. “But I sense that he is on the verge of settling down now.” He glanced over towards the corner of the room with Tristan was sitting next to Grace on the settee. “He seems rather taken with your sister.”

Diana followed his gaze, and felt a pang in her heart, in spite of herself, as she watched Grace and Tristan’s animated conversation. “Yes, indeed,” she said softly.

“And you approve of the match?” Lord Anthony enquired.

Diana nodded, wishing that he would change the subject. But the matrimonial prospects of their host was a natural topic of conversation for the guests, she supposed, and there was not much she could do to avoid it, since her sister was the clear object of his desires.

“And your father is here too?”

“Yes, My Lord,” Diana replied. She felt rather foolish that she was not contributing more to the conversation, but she had been keeping to her room for most of the last two days, and was only just becoming accustomed again to being company. Lord Anthony was pleasant enough, though, and she resolved to try a little harder. She did not want him to think that she was rude.

“Tell me more about your father’s estate, Lady Diana,” he said, his voice smooth as silk. “I have heard that Blackbrook Manor is quite the picturesque setting. I imagine it is a delightful place to grow up.”

Diana returned his smile, feeling relieved that he was no longer talking about Grace and Tristan. “It is indeed lovely, My Lord. The estate has been in my family for generations, surrounded by rolling hills and ancient oaks. Every season brings a new beauty - the spring blossoms are particularly enchanting.”

As she spoke, she found herself flooded with memories of her childhood, those happy days when her mother was alive and everything seemed so simple, compared to what her life was now. She felt a pang of homesickness. There were only another few days of the house party to get through, she thought, and then they could go home, no matter what happened. And perhaps their lives would return to normal. That was probably too much to hope for, though.

“It sounds like paradise,” Lord Anthony replied. His deep-set eyes sparkled with genuine interest, and the way he leaned in slightly made her feel as if their conversation was a private affair, sheltered from the rest of the world.

Diana chuckled. “I am not sure it is paradise, My Lord,” she replied, thinking for a moment of the stack of her father’s ledgers that she had to plough through every month, trying somehow to make things balance. How nice it would be, she reflected, to have someone to share that burden with. But she pushed the thought away; it was no use wishing for things that would never happen. She had to shoulder her responsibilities alone, and it was far better to accept reality than to fight against it.

“You have fond memories, though,” he went on. “I can see it in your eyes. It was almost as if you disappeared, in your mind, to another time and place, when you talked just then of your childhood. I rather envy it. My childhood was not bucolic at all, you know. Packed off to school when I was young, like so many boys are in families like ours.”

She felt herself softening a little towards Lord Anthony. Initially she had found his attentions rather intense, but he was a perfectly nice gentleman after all, and rather funny. “I am sorry that you do not have such pleasant memories,” she said softly. “I must admit that I was thinking of my mother,” she went on to admit.

“Ah, yes, I heard that she had passed away a few years ago. You must miss her very much.”

Diana nodded. “I do, every day,” she confessed.

“And there is no shame in that,” Lord Anthony said. “It shows that you had a strong bond.”

Diana did not reply, for fear of her emotions overtaking her. Instead, she took a sip of her drink and glanced across the room, to check that Grace was still with Tristan.

To her surprise, she saw that Tristan was staring at her instead, his arms folded and his brow furrowed, eyes narrowed as they locked onto her and Lord Anthony. Her enjoyment of the moment with Lord Anthony dimmed as she registered the unmistakable glare directed her way.

“Is everything well, Lady Diana?” Anthony asked, concern flickering in his eyes as he followed her gaze.

“Oh, yes,” she replied quickly, forcing a smile. “It is just…Lord Silvermere seems to be rather preoccupied with something.” She turned her attention back to Lord Anthony, but the unsettling weight of Tristan’s stare lingered in her mind.

“Perhaps he is envious of our conversation,” Lord Anthony suggested lightly, a teasing lilt in his voice. “I cannot blame him; I would certainly be jealous if I were in his shoes.”

Diana laughed. “I think that jealousy is the last thing on his mind,” she replied, attempting to brush off the discomfort that had begun to settle in her chest. “You flatter me, My Lord, I assure you. I suspect he is simply in a bad mood this evening. Perhaps the pressure of hosting such a large party is getting to him.”

Lord Anthony shrugged. “That may well be the cause of it. Personally I always enjoy having guests at my home, but perhaps Lord Tristan is finding it rather onerous.”

Diana smiled, feeling a moment of relief as the conversation took a turn to other things. However, even as the conversation flowed, Diana found it increasingly difficult to ignore Tristan’s presence. His glare had not softened; if anything, it had intensified. Every time she looked across the room, she met his gaze, and it seemed that there was a tempest brewing within him, just beneath the surface.

Her mind raced as she tried to imagine what he was thinking. He had made himself perfectly clear when they had spoken previously; he was going to marry Grace, and he saw her as nothing more than a sister-in-law. And yet, in the maze when they were alone, he had betrayed something else, in the way he had held onto her hand in such a determined way. She could not make sense of it. Perhaps he had just been playing with her, seeing if he could get a reaction out of her. He always said that she was too prim and proper – maybe he was just trying to shock her?

There was a part of her that longed to stride across the room and challenge him, to confront him about his silent judgment. Why should she not chat to another gentleman, when he was on the verge of becoming engaged to her sister? Or at least that was how things seemed.

But another part of her was paralyzed by the notion of drawing attention to herself and to the connection that there was between them, that forbidden attraction that she had scarcely admitted even to herself. No, she thought, she would simply have to ignore it. She turned back to Lord Anthony, promising herself that she would focus her attention on him and him alone for the rest of the evening.

“You must tell me about your home, My Lord,” she said. “I am sure you have hosted many fine gatherings yourself.”

Lord Anthony smiled. “Indeed, Lady Diana. I would be delighted to tell you more about it. And perhaps one day, you might even visit me there.”

They chatted amiably until the gong sounded for dinner.

“Might I escort you to the dining room, Lady Diana?” Lord Anthony said, offering her his arm.

She nodded. “I would be delighted.”

He smiled and began to lead her across the room. “I do hope that we shall be seated close together, and then we can continue our delightful conversation over dinner.”

Diana allowed herself to be led into the dining room, resolving to try to relax and enjoy the rest of the evening. But still she felt the weight of Tristan’s gaze sitting heavily on her heart, even now that she was no longer within his sight. Why did his opinion matter to her so much? Why did the sight of him glaring at her and her companion stir something deep within her? There was much unresolved between them still, but Diana had no idea how to make things right, not least inside herself and the turmoil of her own feelings.

Tristan felt a flicker of satisfaction as he looked around the dining room. The long mahogany table was set elegantly, with candles flickering in ornate candelabras, casting a warm glow over the gathering of guests who filled the room with laughter and conversation. As the host, he was seated at the head of the table, and he had a good view of everyone as they began the first course.

As the guests began to eat their soup, Tristan’s gaze flicked across the table, landing on Lady Diana, who sat a few places down. She seemed to be enraptured in conversation with none other than Lord Anthony Stoke.

He had watched them together in the drawing room, and now he was regretting having seated them together at dinner. It had seemed like a good idea at the time, but now he wished he had placed her elsewhere, and he was beginning to wish that he had not invited Lord Anthony at all. Diana’s laughter rang out like music, her eyes sparkling with delight as she leaned slightly toward Lord Anthony. It was clear that she was enjoying his company. Each smile she offered him felt like a dagger to Tristan’s composure, twisting the irritation that simmered within him into something more visceral.

“Tristan, whatever is the matter?” The voice of his grandmother, the dowager countess, interrupted his dark thoughts. She sat to his right, her sharp eyes keenly observing her grandson’s demeanor.

“I am quite well, Grandmother,” he replied, his tone clipped as he attempted to maintain a facade of indifference. “There is nothing at all the matter with me.” He took a sip of his wine, willing himself to focus on the conversation at hand, yet his attention kept straying back to Diana, whose laughter seemed to grow louder with each passing moment.

“You are lying to me,” she replied, a knowing smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “You appear more like a thundercloud than an earl hosting a dinner party.”

“I assure you, I am perfectly fine,” he insisted, though the tension in his jaw betrayed his agitation. “It is merely the raucousness of the party that is bothering me.”

“Raucousness, you say?” she mused, her voice dripping with skepticism. “I have never known you to be disturbed by noise and jollity at a party, not once in your whole life.” She followed his gaze towards where Lady Diana was sitting. “Perhaps it is something else that is causing you such discomfort.”

Tristan clenched his fists beneath the table, resisting the urge to glance at Diana again. “I am simply keen to ensure that all our guests enjoy their evening.”

The dowager chuckled. “Well, I can see that you do not wish to talk about what is really going on in your troubled mind, Tristan,” she said. “But I trust that you will work out a solution to whatever it is that is bothering you.”

She turned away and began to chat to the gentleman who was seated on her other side, and Tristan breathed a sigh of relief. His grandmother always seemed to see right through him, no matter how hard he tried to conceal his feelings, but he did not want to speak to her about Lady Diana, and the infuriating distraction that she had become.

His eyes drifted towards her again and he watched as she smiled at Lord Anthony, then took a delicate sip of her soup. He could scarcely bear it any longer. But there was nothing to be done. He would focus his attention on Grace, and Grace alone, he resolved, and then perhaps he would finally forget all about her sister. Because no good could come of allowing himself to dwell on Lady Diana and her enchanting laughter and bewitching smiles.