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Although he knew he shouldn’t have interrupted her, he hadn’t thought she’d take it so seriously. Or perhaps she thought he meant?—

“Blast it,” he muttered and rose to start pacing. “I’ll make amends on the ride home. That’s what I’ll do.”

He stewed over the matter for several minutes before taking a short turn about the smoking room. For once he found the smoke too much for him and the taste too bitter, and thus he reluctantly made his way back to the ballroom.

Perhaps Verity has grown tired and is ready to go home. Though I suppose I could take my leave and send the carriage back to her. It would be the honorable thing to tell her in person.

Tristan didn’t make it far before someone tugged at his elbow, pulling him back to a corner. He stiffened and then glowered upon finding his friend there, smirking as he tousled his hair.

“What are you doing here, Ashcombe?”

“Favor to one of my cousins. She has debuted this Season. But the right question is, what are you doing here, so far away from your wife?”

Something about his words caught Tristan’s attention. “What were you doing with her?”

“What? Good Lord, man. Do you have no faith in me? I’d never dally with another man’s wife. Well, not yours.” Julian winked. “No, we merely enjoyed a dance earlier. She’s a very fine dancer, but I’m sure you already know that.”

“Certainly,” Tristan forced out.

“Then go on. Dance with her.”

Wrinkling his nose at the crowd, Tristan replied, “Another evening. I’m sure she has a full dance card. And I was told that it is very unfashionable to dance with one’s own wife.”

Julian snatched a glass of champagne from a passing tray. He downed half of it before arching an eyebrow at his friend. “Tristan, you’ve never cared for conventions.”

“Perhaps I should if I’m in London,” Tristan grumbled.

“Don’t be ridiculous. You should be creating fodder for gossip, not listening.

It’d be a much better use of your time. Now, stop your groaning and go find your wife.

She’s a charming lady. Marriages among the ton are not always perfect—we all know this.

And I do mean that every gentleman knows this. ”

“I know.” Tristan scanned the crowd in search of his wife, wondering if she was indeed dancing. But feeling his friend’s gaze on him, he heard the words again in his head and reared back. “Ashcombe, don’t be ridiculous. You cannot insinuate that she would look elsewhere.”

Julian drained his glass and motioned for a servant nearby. “I’m not saying anything. But one of the duties a husband has to his wife is to keep her happy. At least, that’s what my uncle says. So, are you keeping her happy?”

“She is… content,” Tristan said, before thinking of the conversation they had only an hour ago.

“You made a face. A ridiculous one. Aha! So you are guilty. You should be more careful of your face and your wife,” Julian said decidedly. “She’s lovely. Eager for fun. Partnership.”

Tristan felt anger surge through him. His wife wouldn’t do that. Not Verity. She had spoken about no one. And yet…

Well, he had never proven the case with Cassandra. But some of the things she said or hinted at had made him wonder if she welcomed other men into her life.

He cleared his throat. “She isn’t… She isn’t desperate.”

“No, but she’s lonely. What if she looks elsewhere? I told you about the time Cassandra propositioned me.”

“Which you refused,” Tristan said through gritted teeth.

“Of course I did. We’re friends first and foremost, mate. But Lady Verity is a clever girl. She’ll look elsewhere if you ignore her. She doesn’t have the friendship and family that Cassandra had. Lady Verity needs someone. You can see it in her smile, can’t you?”

All Tristan could hear at that moment was how his friend had been watching his wife. That was unacceptable.

He let out a short breath as he turned to stare Julian down, jabbing a finger at him.

“That is my wife you are talking about,” he hissed. “Don’t you dare look at her. I don’t want you two talking again.”

“That’s not what I’m saying,” Julian argued. “All I said is that your wife?—”

Tristan shook his head. “Don’t say her name. Don’t look at her.”

“I was only trying to help you.” Julian took a step back, looking him up and down. “But perhaps something is there, after all. You care about her, don’t you? Then stop wasting time with me and everyone else, and go be with her. Dance with her if you like—whatever works. But I’ll stop helping now.”

Tristan tried to understand why his friend would so quickly back off after studying his wife so intently. What part of this was a jest? Mockery?

“Stop pitying me, if that’s what you’re doing.”

Shaking his head, Julian straightened his sleeves. “I don’t pity you. But I do pity the mistakes you’ll make, should you keep your eyes closed about your marriage. I’ll take my leave now.”

And then he left Tristan alone.

Tristan thought that was for the best, at least for the moment. Julian’s ramblings about Verity were inappropriate. He didn’t want the man’s company.

But suddenly he couldn’t stand his own company either.