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

CHAPTER 2

“ M y Lord Everton,” Lady Eliza purred. “You are here at last. We had quite given up on you!”

Tristan shrugged. “Forgive me, Lady Eliza, if my tardiness has caused you distress. I had a great many things to attend to today, and the time quite slipped away from me.”

He may well have affected carelessness, but Tristan could not help but enjoy the sensation of eyes upon him as he entered the ballroom. He always enjoyed this moment, standing at the entrance, taking in the view: a sea of silks and satins swirling in a delicate dance as laughter and music filled the air. This evening he had been rather late, but there were always so many things to do, and he knew that his lateness only made him all the more intriguing. Lord and Lady Harrington would not mind his tardiness. They would simply be grateful that he had made time to attend their ball.

On arrival, he had stepped into the room and traversed the marble floor, looking around him as he went to ascertain which of the important families of the ton were there tonight. The Harringtons’ ball was a big event, a highlight of the season for many, and as he scanned the room he saw Lord Bretherton and his wife, the Duke of Ellington and his new duchess, and various other ladies and gentlemen of his acquaintance.

It was not long before he was approached by Lady Eliza Bretherton, followed by a gaggle of her friends. They were old acquaintances, having met many times over the years at various balls and parties, and they fell into their usual flirtatious banter.

Lady Eliza let out a chuckle. “You credit yourself with far too much importance, My Lord,” she protested. “I was not in the least distressed. Merely curious.”

Tristan smiled and held the lady’s gaze for a moment. There was no serious attachment between them, but he enjoyed flirting with her, and with any other lady who came his way. He was well aware of the whispers that followed him wherever he went. A rake, they called him, a charmer who wore his reputation like a well-tailored coat. In reality he felt the label to be unfair; he would never behave in a truly dishonorably fashion. But he could not resist the thrill of the chase.

“Well I trust that your curiosity is now satisfied, My Lady,” he replied. He allowed his eyes to sweep her up and down. Her gown was a cascade of lavender, draped elegantly over her figure, and her eyes sparkled with mischief as they locked onto his.

“Not at all,” she said. “I want to hear all about your escapades.”

He grinned. “My escapades? You must not believe everything you hear about me, Lady Eliza. I am too often cast as the villain, I fear.”

“Would you prefer to be a hero, then?” she asked.

He was just about to reply when the Countess of Bretherton, Lady Eliza’s somewhat formidable mother, appeared next to them.

“Eliza, my dear, come away this minute!” she said firmly, taking Eliza’s arm and attempting to pull her away from Tristan.

A frown crossed the young lady’s pretty face. “But Mother, I was talking to the earl!” she protested.

“Well,” Lady Bretherton said with a cough. “That’s as may be, but the duke is here, and I believe that he is keen to dance with you.”

Tristan smiled knowingly and gave a slight bow. “Lady Eliza, perhaps you will honor me with a dance later on this evening,” he said softly, staring into her eyes and enjoying the blush that crept up her cheeks as he spoke to her. “But for now I consider myself outranked. Enjoy your dance with the duke!”

She giggled and turned away, following her mother to where the Duke of Ellington was standing chatting with Lord Bretherton.

Outranked indeed! He knew full well that was not the reason that her mother did not want her speaking to him. He was an earl himself, after all, and a perfectly eligible match for such a lady as Lady Eliza. But his reputation meant that all the mamas of the ton were cautious of him. And perhaps that was a good thing, he thought. At least it meant that none of them were thrusting their daughters in his way, trying to persuade him to marry them. Of course, in the end he would get married; it was necessary for a man of his station. But not yet. And he would choose carefully and wisely.

He felt a rather hollow sense of emptiness sweeping through him as he looked around the crowded ballroom. It was all so insipid, so noisy. He wished for a moment that he could flee the scene entirely. But before he had the chance to indulge in his thoughts, he felt a splash of cold liquid against his shoulder.

“What the devil—?” He spun around, irritation prickling at his skin, and found himself face to face with a lady of almost indescribable beauty.

“Oh, I am so sorry…” the young lady said, her cheeks flushing crimson. “My Lord?” she added tentatively.

It occurred to Tristan that she did not know who he was, and for a moment, he felt a surge of relief. If she did not know who he was, she would have no preconceptions about him. He saw her distress, though, and decided to relieve her of the awkwardness of not knowing who she was speaking to.

“Lord Tristan Everton, Earl of Silvemere,” he explained, with a low bow.

“My Lord,” she repeated, hesitantly. “I am Lady Grace Kinsman.”

Tristan nodded. There was something familiar about her name, but he was sure that he had not met her before. Surely he would remember those bouncing blonde curls and clear blue eyes.

“I am so sorry about the drink!” she said, a little breathlessly.

“Please, you must think nothing of it,” Tristan replied, a playful smile on his lips. “If you were trying to make a splash at this ball, you have succeeded most admirably!”

Her laughter rang out like sweet music in response to his joke, but then suddenly she stopped and put a hand to her mouth, almost as if she were afraid for anyone to see her laughing.

Tristan watched her with interest. Beautiful, demure, unassuming. She would make a perfect countess. “Now, tell me, Lady Grace. How is it that we have not met before?”

She smiled shyly. “I have only been out for one season,” she replied. “And last year…well, my father does not like large events very much, so we only attended a few balls.”

And no lucky gentleman snapped you up, Tristan thought. This lady was becoming more interesting by the minute.

Before he had a chance to respond, though, another presence drew his attention. Next to them, another young lady had appeared. There was something familiar about her, with her dark blonde hair and a distinctive mole under her left eye, and as he looked at her, Tristan realized that they had met before. It was Lady Diana Kingsman, who he realized must be Lady Grace’s older sister.

“Lady Diana!” he said, feigning enthusiasm. “It is a pleasure to see you again.”

“Indeed?” she replied, raising an eyebrow and looking at him rather coldly with her clear blue eyes.

He looked at her curiously. Truth be told, when they had met previously, at his brother’s wedding party, he had not found her at all interesting. There had been some intrigue, he remembered. She had been intended as a match for the Duke of Holloway, but it had come to nothing, and the duke had married Cecillia instead, Tristan’s younger sister. He had not thought at the time that she seemed remarkably bothered by it, but there was a defensive look about her now, as if she had in fact been wounded by the whole thing.

“I have not seen you much in society these last few years, Lady Diana,” Tristan said, wondering how she would respond.

“I have not found anything much to attract me,” she shot back. “But now that my sister is out, it is a necessity.” She glanced over at Lady Grace. “Grace, come along now. Mr. Sinclair is over there. Perhaps we can speak to him again.”

Tristan watched with amusement as Grace looked over at Mr. Sinclair, a rather unprepossessing-looking man of medium height with sandy-colored hair, then looked back at him, a faint blush tinging her cheeks.

“I would rather…” Grace began, then stopped talking as soon as her sister glared at her again.

“Do not be silly, Grace!”

Tristan gave a small cough. “Lady Diana, if I might make a suggestion. Calling your sister silly seems rather ungracious to me. Perhaps she is simply not interested in Mr. Sinclair. And who, might I ask, could blame her?”

Diana huffed. “There is nothing wrong with Mr. Sinclair!” she said firmly. “He is a gentleman of impeccable reputation, unlike some others I do not care to mention.”

Aha , Tristan thought. She has listened to the gossip about me, along with everyone else. It was nothing more than he was used to, but somehow he felt the need to protest. Lady Diana was rather infuriating, and he was determined not to let her have the last word.

“You should not listen to everything you hear, Lady Diana,” he said, watching her face carefully to see how she responded.

“A young lady’s reputation is her most precious possession, though, don’t you think, My Lord?” Lady Diana was smiling sweetly as she spoke, but there was a steely look in her eye.

Tristan knew that Lady Diana was desperate to drag her sister away from him, and his irritation began to flare. “And what do you say, Lady Grace?” he asked, turning to the other lady. He almost felt sorry for her, she looked so embarrassed, but he was determined to draw her in, even if only to further annoy Lady Diana.

“My Lord, I do not know what to say,” Lady Grace said softly, her eyes fixed on the ground.

“There you are, My Lady,” Tristan said, turning back to Lady Diana with a hint of triumph in his voice. “Your sister does not agree with you.”

“She – oh, she does not know what she thinks!” Lady Diana said, her frustration seeping though her voice. “Now, enough of this nonsense, Grace. Come along now!”

“But your sister seems quite taken with my charm,” Tristan said, lowering his voice and holding Diana’s gaze. “It is a shame that you do not feel the same.”

“Indeed I do not,” Diana replied. Her voice was icy, but there was a faint hint of a blush creeping up her face as she spoke, and Tristan could not help but think that it made her look rather pretty. She seemed to be losing her sense of composure, and the sight of her flustered expression ignited a sense of victory within him.

Tristan’s heart raced at the back-and-forth. The tension between them was igniting something within him, something that felt a little dangerous. “And what if I were to prove you wrong?”

“Good luck with that,” Diana said, crossing her arms. She had regained her poise, it seemed, and her eyes were flashing with defiance, her gaze unwavering. “Now, enough of this.”

“Diana, wait!” Grace protested, glancing between them, her expression one of confusion.

“Now, Grace,” Diana insisted, her tone leaving no room for argument. “We’re leaving.”

Tristan watched as Diana pulled her sister away. She threw one last glare in his direction, before hurrying away across the ballroom, almost dragging her sister along with her. The tension in the air lingered long after they had vanished into the crowd. Lady Grace clearly had been captivated by his charms, and that was no surprise, but it was her sister who remained in his mind, long after the pair of them had disappeared from his sight.

“Well,” he muttered to himself, a smile creeping onto his lips, “that was rather entertaining.”

He went over to the refreshment table to fetch some punch, then looked around the room, wondering where he could seek out amusement next. But no matter how hard he tried, he could not stop thinking about those flashing eyes. Lady Diana Kingsman had left an impression on him. She seemed quite different from the rather bland and uninteresting lady he had met at his brother’s wedding party. Her sister was beautiful, yes, and she would make the perfect duchess, but it was Diana who lingered in his mind as the evening continued.

The morning sun streamed through the window of Tristan’s dressing room. He adjusted his cravat in the mirror, preparing to leave for the day, when there was a sharp tap at the door. Hoxley, his manservant, entered.

“My Lord, the Dowager Countess of Silvermere is here,” he announced. “She is waiting for you in the drawing room.”

Tristan frowned and glanced at the clock on the mantlepiece. He was always happy to see his grandmother, but he had plans this morning and he did not want to be late. He knew his duty, though; his plans would just have to wait.

He made his way downstairs and entered the drawing room, where his grandmother was sitting comfortably on the chaise, a cup of tea in her hands.

“Tristan, my dear!” she said, her voice warm but slightly quavering. She was a petite woman, with a cascade of silver hair elegantly pinned atop her head, and as he looked at her, Tristan reflected that she still had an air of timeless charm about her. He was glad that she had come to call, after all.

“Grandmama,” he replied, stopping to kiss her papery cheek. “What a pleasure it is to see you this morning.”

“I hope I am not keeping you form important business?” she said

“No, indeed,” he replied, shaking his head. “What could be more important than spending time with you?”

“I was wondering how you enjoyed the ball last night,” she said, looking up at him with bright, inquisitive eyes.

Tristan let out a chuckle. “Ah, I thought it might be something like this that you wanted to discuss.”

She smiled. “You know, Tristan, I am worried about you. You are not getting any younger, and you need to find a wife.”

“Grandmama, please, let’s not have this conversation again.” He smiled as he spoke, but he felt a hint of frustration beginning to simmer within him.

“But I am sure we have not had it before?” she replied, her brow furrowing in concentration as if trying to recall something particularly complex.

“We have, but no matter,” Tristan said softly. They had this same conversation every week, but he had come to expect it, and in truth, his grandmother’s concern for his wellbeing warmed his heart, even if the specific direction that the conversation always took had become rather wearing.

“Tristan, do you not want to fall in love?” She looked at him rather intensely as she spoke.

He laughed. “I do not think of it in the same way as you do.”

“But I had such a grand love match, my darling, and I want the same for you!” Lady Everton’s eyes took on a misty hue as she seemed to go back in time in her mind, to her younger days. “Your grandfather and I met at a ball, you know. I am sure I have never told you the story.”

“Many times, Grandmama, you have told me that story,” Tristan replied with a wry smile. He glanced again at the clock. On any other day, he would have been happy to sit and listen to her reminisce, and tell him the same old stories that she had repeated many times, but today, he needed to be on his way.

“And your parents too!” she went on. “Did I ever tell you how they met? They were truly blessed to have found each other. Although your father was a terrible dancer, and that nearly put an end to all of it!”

“Grandmama, you must forgive me, but I do have some pressing business this morning. Perhaps you can tell me another time?” He smiled at her kindly, always happy to humor her despite the way that she repeated herself. Could she really not remember that she had told him these same stories many times? Or was it simply a comfort to her, to repeat them over and over again? Still, his grandmother was old now and she had always been there for him. He would always indulge her flights of fancy.

“Tell me your plans for the day, my dear,” she asked. “I do love to hear what you young people get up to.”

“Well, you will be pleased to hear that I did meet a young lady at the ball last night,” he said.

“Did you?” Lady Everton’s eyes sparkled with curiosity. “Who is she? Is she from a good family?”

“Yes, yes, she’s from a very respectable family,” Tristan said, his tone light, although his heart felt heavier with each word. “I’m actually on my way to visit her now.”

“Oh, splendid,” she trilled. “I am so delighted to hear it! And is she a good dancer? I was always the belle of the ball, you know!”

“I am sure you were, Grandmama,” Tristan replied, smiling broadly. He wondered why it felt like such an effort to be cheerful this morning, but he knew he must keep going. His heart was full of mixed feelings about the visit he was about to pay, but it was his duty to find a wife, and Lady Grace was the perfect candidate.

“Well, off you go then,” Lady Everton said, waving her hand at him as if to dismiss him. “Go and see your true love, and persuade her that you are the man of her dreams” She was grinning now, and Tristan could not help but feel moved by her enthusiasm. He knew that all she wanted was for him to be happy. If only it was as simple as that.

“I promise you, I will try my best,” he replied. “But now I must be off.” He gave her a final smile as he turned to leave.

In the hallway, he prepared himself to depart, a slightly hollow feeling coming over him. As he stepped out into the cool morning air, the sun glinting off the dew-kissed grass, he knew that he should feel excited. He should feel something, at least – something more than this sense of duty and pressure to meet everyone else’s expectations. But that was the way of things, he resolved, and the sooner he accepted it, the better.