Page 24

T he ladies moved out to the garden, where he could watch them from above like an unfeeling god. Or so Tristan told himself. He took a sip of his smooth, rich brandy while trying to keep track of Julian’s nattering.

“Not that the man believed me. I only look like a dandy, after all. No one would expect me capable of lifting a barrel. He told me, ‘Right, My Lord. You move that barrel across the room and I’ll pay your tab tonight.’ And I couldn’t help but laugh.

It wasn’t even full, you know. Ridiculous man.

Fool. But a win all the same, as I didn’t have to pay a thing all night. ”

“You’re a rich man, aren’t you?” Tristan reminded him mildly.

A loud laugh echoed through the room. “Certainly, and a bored one. You know I can’t resist a good bet. Especially when I’m so confident I’ll win.”

The ladies then moved toward the large white gazebo. The tall structure could be seen from the street at times. Folks had inquired about it before and noted how lovely it was. Subtle requests for an invitation to his home that always went unanswered.

Still, this meant the ladies were about to disappear from view. He leaned in further until his forehead touched the glass.

His wife had let her hair down. Her curls fluttered in the breeze, as if deliberately defying Society’s dictate to pin it up or hide it under those hideous white bonnets. She walked with her shoulders back, confident and calm. Then, she turned around, laughing.

Is her friend making her laugh? Lady Marsten.

We were introduced at the wedding, but I cannot recall a conversation of note.

Even I heard of her reputation when she came out a year or so after I married Cassandra.

Daughter of a powerful marquess, yet she married an old baron.

Still, it seems that widowhood has worked out well for her.

They looked as close as could be, bosom friends who shared every secret. Were they talking about him?

Questions flooded his mind, though there was no way to answer any of them unless he asked Verity. But he couldn’t do that. Just the thought of asking her…

And then the two ladies disappeared under the canopied structure.

He let out a huff of annoyance.

“That awful, hm?”

Jerking at the realization that his friend was right there at his elbow, Tristan glared at him. “What are you doing?”

“Talking to you because, apparently, you can’t hear me from over there.” Julian flashed him a grin before nodding his chin toward the gazebo. “I didn’t take you for an overprotective husband. You never hovered over Lady Cassandra.”

Looking away, Tristan said, “I’m not hovering.”

“Certainly you aren’t. You are simply… watching from your secret tower to… what? Keep her company? It’s obvious that my company does nothing for you. You didn’t even enjoy seeing our friends the other day. Has she already monopolized your attention?”

“I enjoyed seeing our friends,” Tristan corrected him. He recalled how tense the billiards game had begun as his friend threw him a look. Hesitation overtook his prior annoyance. “I suppose I’ve grown unused to enjoying myself. And the company of others.”

Julian nodded and took a step back. “I noticed. You’ve always struggled with that.”

“It’s not a struggle. I simply don’t have the time or interest?—”

Both gentlemen jolted as they heard a shout from outside. Plastering themselves to the window, they stared in strained silence as the two women fled the gazebo—and only made it to the next dart in the garden path before they burst into laughter even louder than the shout.

Tristan exhaled. His chest felt tight from holding his breath for those precarious seconds and began to loosen.

As for Julian, he clapped a hand on his shoulder. “I think you should find the time. The interest. Because your wife clearly does.”

The very notion was too much for him to consider. Shaking his head, Tristan rounded the desk to refill his empty glass. “As someone who intends to avoid the marriage trap, you seem hellbent on keeping me trapped in mine.”

“Like I told you, if anyone marries in our club, it would be you, Tristan. Someone to do for you what we clearly couldn’t. You’re too comfortable and set in your ways. Our friends have their passions and interests. But you? You’d rather sit in the corner and haunt the room.”

“How generous of you,” he responded dryly.

Julian gave a halfhearted shrug. “You’re a good man. Intelligent, loyal, and protective. But much leaves us all wondering whether or not you’re happy. And you deserve to be happy.”

Tristan frowned. “I am happy.”

Squinting at him, his friend wrinkled his nose. “Are you?”

Tristan opened his mouth to object once again. But then he hesitated, not certain how else he would explain himself. Because he was happy. He had to be. This was the life he had, and he managed it the best he could. Surely that was happiness.

Isn’t it?

Suddenly, he wasn’t too sure.

“It’s only… She’s… She’s different.”

Verity’s smile came to mind. She smiled often, like she enjoyed doing so. Except for when he was around.

The fact maddened him. Perhaps he was obsessing over her.

There are probably a lot of words that I should have for someone I have brought into my life and will be bound to for the rest of my days. Most likely, there is so much for me to discuss. Especially since I’ve taken to avoiding her once again. She won’t appreciate that.

“Different how?” his friend inquired. “Different in a good way? I do hope you’re not comparing her to your first wife.”

Cassandra. How that woman still haunted him. Tristan would never escape her, not really. It had taken him years to realize this and even longer to accept it. Some days, he wasn’t particularly confident where he stood. It was more because of resentment than grief, he could admit.

Filling his glass, he took a long sip to try savoring the brandy. Cassandra hadn’t liked the smell or taste of it. But she hadn’t cared for his company at all, not even in the beginning.

“What an excellent match we will make, don’t you think?” she had pleaded that evening.

She had looked so pretty. Innocent, too, to anyone who hadn’t heard the words slipping from her sharp tongue.

“It is for the best. Poor Oliver. If only he hadn’t left us. But now we can have the lives we were meant to have. I shall be a duchess, and you shall be properly married. The ton will have what they need. Us!”

“It will all be a lie,” he remembered telling her.

“Everything is a lie until you make it the truth. And the truth doesn’t matter,” Cassandra had reassured him sweetly.

He had struggled to understand the meaning behind the smile he learned too late not to trust. “So is the blackmail a truth or a lie?”

She’d only laughed. It was a trilling sound that reminded him of bells in the springtime when the sun was too bright. How pleasant it had been when they had Oliver between them. But then his brother was gone, buried along with the truth Cassandra had been willing to keep hidden.

“Tristan?”

Starting, Tristan turned back to Julian. The shadows in his mind only receded partially. Smiles were lies. Weren’t they?

Somehow he found his thoughts escaping into their conversation. He rubbed his forehead as though he could hide his vulnerability. A duke was supposed to be confident. Lately, Tristan didn’t know what he was.

“Do you remember Oliver? Was he… Was he a better man than I?”

“Whatever makes you ask such a thing?”

“Answer me,” Tristan pressed.

“Tristan, be reasonable. Oliver was your younger brother. He looked up to you—he always did. Just because he was louder and witty, doesn’t mean he was any better.

The two of you were different as night and day but in good ways.

He was overly idealistic, while you were reasonable.

He drank too much, and you were too quiet.

You had your faults and your talents. The riding accident was most unfortunate, but you cannot blame yourself. ”

He nodded slowly while he tried to listen. Yet he couldn’t stop thinking about Cassandra. How lovely she had looked. An absolute angel. His brother had adored her with all his heart.

Instead, Oliver made a foolish mistake and found himself in a grave. Tristan had days where he wished they could have traded fates, but he found it a selfish thought. He didn’t want to be there. He didn’t want to be trapped while his brother was free.

I had so little peace. So little control. And here I am, wed again, to another woman I did not choose. Verity and Cassandra seem to be very different. Something about this makes Verity more terrifying than anyone I’ve ever known.

Her smile never felt like a lie. He welcomed it, wanted it. But what if it was a different sort of untruth?

He fumbled with his cup in his distraction.

“Are you all right, old friend?” Julian took the glass from him. “You seem out of sorts.”

Tristan watched the glass go. He had to clear his head, put Verity out of his mind.

“Nothing that fresh air cannot fix. I think I shall go out for a ride. You may take your leave. Thank you for your time.”

“Perhaps I shall join you. You could use some company, I think.”

Slowly shaking his head, he said, “No, thank you. I’ll consider what you said,” he promised.

“I suppose that is all I can ask. You are a strange man, my friend.” Julian saluted. “Carry on, and I shall talk to you soon. It seems there is much to discuss, whether we accept that now or later.”

“I don’t appreciate riddles.”

Julian winked and disappeared down the hall.

It didn’t take Tristan long to do the same, moving through the back halls to change into his riding habit. He didn’t see Verity again. Though he meant to avoid her, he watched every corner in case they might cross each other before he left.

The fresh air did wonders for him. Even as the sky turned gray and a heavy drizzle fell across town, he couldn’t bring himself to turn back.

He spent a good hour on the outskirts of London, where he recalled his playful younger brother and their memories from their youth. At some point, he had laughed as well. Laughed and played and dreamed about the future.

Perhaps he might have dreamed of a woman who laughed as often as Verity seemed to do. Yes, he could have been a different man.

He simply didn’t know when he had changed.