Page 7 of An Earl Most Inconvenient (Regency Mishaps #2)
CHAPTER 7
T ristan could practically feel Diana squirming in her seat next to him. She was perched right on the edge now, as if she was trying to get as far away from him as possible, and he could tell that she was struggling to keep her composure.
Despite her rather pointed barb at him when he had arrived, Tristan rather enjoyed the theatre. He liked the hum of anticipation before the play started, as the audience settled into their seats. He liked the flickering candlelight and the way it case a warm glow over the ornate décor. He enjoyed watching the story unfold on the stage below, a vibrant tapestry of colors. All that passion and drama and intrigue. It always stirred something within him, and tonight he was feeling even more mischievous than usual.
“You ought to try to relax a little,” he whispered to her after a while. He could tell that he was annoying her, talking during the performance, but that made him even more determined to continue. No one else would care about such a thing; everyone else in the box was chatting between themselves, even her sister, who was engaged in conversation now with some other gentleman who Tristan did not know. It was only Diana who stared resolutely at the stage, trying not to permit distraction of any sort.
“I am perfectly relaxed, My Lord,” she hissed back, not looking at him.
He chuckled. “Well, you will forgive me for saying so, I am sure, but you do not look it, sitting there on the edge of your seat. Why don’t you lean back? The seats are very comfortable, you know.”
She turned and glared at him. “I do not need you to tell me how to sit!” she retorted sharply.
“I am quite sure you don’t,” he replied evenly. “But all this tension cannot be good for your health.”
She had always been a little uptight, he remembered. There had been a visit to a dress shop that was lurking in his memory, and he dredged it up, remembering how she had not liked to be teased for her rather old-fashioned taste in clothes. Perhaps they had gone a bit far, he thought, recalling the blush that had crept up her cheeks as they stood in the shop together. But really, it would do her good not to be so uptight.
“My health is none of your concern,” Diana said tersely, and turned away from him.
The way she was behaving towards him made it almost impossible to resist teasing her further, and Tristan could not hold back.
“I wonder what it would take to make you lose your composure entirely?” he said softly.
That blush began to creep up her cheeks again; he could just make it out in the candlelight as he fixed his eyes on her face.
“Please, My Lord, do not trouble yourself about me,” she said, a note of desperation in her voice.
“You know that composure is very overrated?” he went on. He wondered how much further he could push her.
“All I am interested in, My Lord, is keeping you as far away from my sister as possible,” she replied, turning to him and flashing those eyes at him again.
He chuckled softly. There was a sonorous richness to his voice as he replied to her. “I am sure that your sister is quite capable of handling herself.”
“You are wrong,” Diana insisted hotly. “She is young and inexperienced. She had never had the misfortune of meeting a man like you before, and she will fall for your charms if –“
“If what?” Tristan interrupted.
“If I do not protect her from you,” Diana finished, a resolute note to her voice. He could see, though, that her hands were shaking, even though she was trying to hide it by clasping them tightly in her lap.
“She does not need to be protected from me,” Tristan insisted. “I will make her my countess, and she will have everything she ever dreamed of.”
“Never,” Diana vowed. “I will not allow it. She deserves a much better husband than a rake like you. I do not trust you at all, nor your professed intentions.”
Tristan raised an eyebrow. “That is a scandalous accusation, Lady Diana,” he said. “I am sure that I have done nothing dishonorable. But even so, and even if I had done all these terrible things that you think I have done, do you not know that rakes make the best husbands?”
She gasped, a hand flying to her mouth. Tristan had to fight with himself not to laugh at the shock that was evident on her face. But very quickly, she seemed to regain her composure, and she met his gaze with a steely look. Perhaps Alistair had been right after all; perhaps he had met his match.
“And when you abandon her and pay court to the next fashionable lady who comes along? Then what will happen?” Diana said.
Tristan frowned. Perhaps he had gone too far, after all. He had to remember the end goal, as much as he was enjoying this little game.
“I assure you, I am not so fickle as all that,” he replied. “I have every intention of marrying her. She is everything I am looking for in a wife. You need have no fear of her being ruined, or anything like that.”
“I do not trust you at all,” Diana shot back. “I won’t allow you anywhere near her. You are far too dangerous.”
Something about the way she spoke ignited a spark within Tristan, and he could not help himself. “Lady Diana,” he said, dropping his voice to a whisper. “Perhaps it is not your sister you should be worried about. Perhaps it is you who should be worried about being alone with me?”
He heard a sharp intake of breath coming from her. What he would give to be inside her thoughts just now, he reflected. He would have given his whole fortune just then to know what she was imagining.
She did not reply and he could not resist going further. “What is life without a little danger, after all?”
“My Lord, please, do not say such things to me,” she said, her voice shaking a little.
He sat back in his seat. He had gone too far, and he did not want to distress her, much as he enjoyed seeing her blush and bluster. “My Lady, forgive me,” he said smoothly. “Much as I have enjoyed are little game, you are quite right. We must be practical. A scandal is the last thing either of us need, and it would not be good for your sister either.”
She nodded, still staring at him. He could not quite make out the expression in her eyes, but it seemed, in the darkness, like a strange mixture of relief and disappointment all rolled into one.
“I will not allow you to toy with me, My Lord,” she said.
“And I will not,” he resolved. “But of course, perhaps you do not know quite as much about it all as you think you do, since you are not married.”
“That has nothing to do with it,” Diana retorted. “And anyway, even before I had given up on all that and accepted my fate as a spinster, I would never have considered a man like you as a match.”
Tristan raised an eyebrow. “Well, I would never have considered you either, and perhaps that is exactly why you have ended up a spinster. After all, we could never be married.”
She shook her head. “Indeed we will not,” she replied. “And I will never allow you to endanger my reputation. You will never have that chance.” She said those last few words with a sense of finality, then looked away, fixing her focus on the stage.
He felt a strange sense of emptiness engulfing him as the play continued. His plan had not changed, but he felt unsettled, all the same.
As the actors continued to present their story on the stage below, Diana sat back in her seat, her mind elsewhere. Her heart was still racing as she grappled with her tumultuous thoughts.
She could sense Tristan next to her, although mercifully he had turned his attention towards others in the box, and left her alone.
He had said that he had enjoyed their little game, and it became clear to her in that moment that it was only a game to him. Nothing was serious to a man like Tristan. He had all the power and all the privilege and he could simply play with people as if they were puppets, dancing to his tune.
And somehow, she had let herself imagine that there was something in their banter and their arguing. She did not understand how she could veer so quickly from never wanting to set eyes on the man again, to being unable to tear her gaze away from his. How did he do it? What kind of trickery was at play here?
All the more reason to keep Grace as far away from him as possible. She repeated this resolve to herself as the applause and laughter filtered through the audience and the first act began to draw to a close. She would have to remove Grace form the box for the duration of the interval, she thought. They would have to go and find some other people to speak to, or go and get some refreshments. She could not resist Tristan reasserting himself on them and refreshing his assault on Grace’s heart.
It had taken all her strength to say those last words to him. The reality of their situation was clear to her, as it was to him. They could not risk a scandal, and he would never marry her.
Of course he would never marry her. She wondered why the words stung her heart so cruelly. It was not as if she would ever consider marrying a man like him anyway. But with those words came back the memories of all the pitying looks, all the whispers following her around ballrooms. The Duke had not wanted to marry her either, and now no one ever would.
She felt a tear threatening to fall down her cheek and she reached up and wiped it away furiously. She would not let Tristan upset her. His words meant nothing. His opinion meant nothing. The thrill of his attention might trigger something deep within her, but she knew that she was a mere diversion to him, a game to be played until he found something else to distract him.
With a deep breath, she shook her head, trying to dispel the dizzying thoughts that swirled within her. She would not become another victim of his charm, and nor would Grace. Soon, her sister would be engaged to be married to another fine gentleman and the Earl of Silvermere and his infuriating ways would just be a distant memory.