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He shook the image out of his head. “No. Yes. That is, she is still beautiful.”

“Ah, then perhaps I should call on her to hear the story if you won’t say a word,” Julian drawled. “I do love?—”

“No.”

He paused. “No?”

“No, you may not call on her.”

Tristan pursed his lips. Then, he drained his mostly full glass, to Julian’s amazement.

Slamming down the empty glass, Tristan told his friend, “She is engaged to be married.”

“Aha! So you found her a bloke, didn’t you?

Thank the Lord. I half-worried you would foist me on her.

” Julian ruffled his hair. “What fellow would dare marry her? An old, rich fellow in need of a title perhaps might take her. The scandal she left behind… oh, I doubt she would ever show her face in London.”

“She is marrying me,” Tristan announced through gritted teeth.

A scandalized gasp escaped Julian’s lips before he drained his glass and leaned back with a smirk. “Is she now?

“It’s the truth,” Tristan confirmed evenly.

“I wondered how long it would take to draw the truth out of you. Blast it, Tristan.” Waving a finger at him, Julian rose to his feet with a clap. “My congratulations! Never mind a word I said. Everything out of my mouth is nonsense. It’s time you remarried, old friend. You needed another wife.”

Bewilderment settled heavily on Tristan’s shoulders. Not knowing what to say, he eventually muttered, “Thank you.”

“And yet not a socialite, I fear. What a shame. If your friends cannot convince you to spend more time together, then I was hoping you would have a woman do it for you. She won’t drive you to London, I assume?”

“We haven’t discussed that,” Tristan said.

“What a shame. And what of the wedding date? I shall need to invite the others.”

Tristan wrinkled his nose. “Don’t bother. It’ll be in a few days, and then it will all be over.”

“At least tell them this time. I refuse to be the last to know again,” Julian protested. He grabbed the bottle and refilled their glasses. “Another drink is warranted, judging from the weariness on your face.”

Refusing to respond to such a ridiculous remark, Tristan gave a shake of his head and took a moment to pace the room.

Julian, like their other friends, knew little about his first marriage. It was better that no one else knew. While they understood that Cassandra and Oliver had made promises to one another, little was discussed after Tristan had lost his brother.

It was the proper thing to do then, just as it is now. I am a gentleman. A duke. I cannot be seen setting a bad example and disobeying the unwritten or unspoken rules of a lord. My friends understand that much.

“Tristan?” Julian offered him a glass. “I know how you hate smiling. But will this be another marriage where you care little for your wife? You did not have a brother to lose this time.”

Accepting the glass, Tristan sighed. “We are bound one way or another. The details are less important.”

“Well, I think it is a good thing. You have always been alone. It’s time you had someone else in your head besides your voice. Heaven knows you will not listen to me or the others. A family is exactly what you need and deserve.”

“Coming from you, that could very well be a threat.”

Julian chuckled. “There’s that old sense of humor. Glad to hear you are still yourself. Yes, this union will be ideal. How lucky you are that I can stay! A few days from now, yes?”

Tristan nodded slowly. “I’ll obtain a special license tomorrow. She requested a few days, but it shouldn’t be long.”

“The sooner, the better. I’d be careful not to make an appearance until news of your wedding spread across London if I were you.

Everyone I know is breathing down my neck for details.

But enough complaining! We’ll have to prepare a delicious feast. Mrs. Burns said something about fish and oysters.

What about wedding gifts? I’ll have to find you something later.

But for the bride, perhaps you can gift her some family jewels? Unless they all went to… her?”

Thinking of his sweet-looking but sour first wife, Tristan recalled how he only ever offered Cassandra a set of pearl earbobs from his family coffers. She had wanted to be buried with them. It was best, back then, as he wouldn’t have to look at them again. As for the other jewels…

“The sapphires, perhaps?”

Tristan turned to his friend with a frown.

His family possessed some rather infamous sapphires gifted to them by a Russian prince or someone like that.

The story varied even within his family and across England.

They were even written about or referenced in the occasion paper or periodical.

Once in a while, he would pull them out to try and discern the truth, only to find nothing.

Just a mystery he accepted would never be solved.

And to give them to Verity?

At once he could picture her wearing them. The sharp blue would complement the brightness of her eyes. Her lips would make them sparkle. The pink hue on her cheeks would surely do them justice, unlike the velvet they lay in now.

He could almost touch her. What was softer than velvet?

Tristan shook his head as she came closer to him in his mind’s eye.

“There is no need,” he said at last while Julian studied him thoughtfully. “It shall be a simple wedding in the local village, just as she requested. She will reside here, close to her home, and we shall get on well enough.”

He’d considered making up a reason to delay. But if anything, it seemed their wedding was more urgent than ever. His stomach clenched in uneasy anticipation.

“Then a toast to you and a toast to the heavens. May you have a wife who brings you joy and makes you smile. A wife you can endure with whatever you consider to be gladness,” Julian teased.

They toasted, and Tristan wondered whether he was as unhappy as his friends believed him to be, or whether he was simply lying to himself.