Page 52 of A Match Made in London
Chapter 16
By the next morning Rosalind had nearly managed to convince herself that Tristan’s confession had been a ruse. He wanted to distract her, she reasoned, to throw her off the scent of his plans for Miss Weeton. He was much smarter than he let on, after all. He’d seen that she would not let it go, would make his life a living hell in order to keep Lord Kingston from the girl.
Yet there was a small kernel of doubt in her, like the faintest pinprick of light on the darkest night. What if what Tristan had said had been nothing but the barest, most raw truth? What if he truly did want her?
And if so, why the devil hadn’t he acted on it?
For, as appalling as the realization was, she had been deeply affected by his words. She knew that, if he had so much as touched her, she would have been lost to him. She would have given him everything he’d asked for.
It was that realization that had kept her awake all last night, that had her dodging him throughout the day. Not only because she should have been the last person to fall for a rake’s charms, but because he must have seen it in her. She had always been appalling at hiding her feelings. Her loose tongue had made that a certainty. But she also knew that her eyes often gave her away on the rare occasions her mouth did not. Her father used to love to tease her on it, claiming she would never be able to make a living at the tables.
Ironic, that, considering it had been his own losses at the tables that had put her in the situation she was in now.
But if Tristan had seen how she’d wanted him, why had he not taken advantage of the situation? Isn’t that what men like him did? They used women and discarded them like so much refuse.
Yet he hadn’t so much as touched her. And for the life of her she couldn’t figure out why. For if that small yet glowing part of her was correct, and he had voiced his true feelings on the matter, then her opinion of him thus far was wrong.
Which, of course, meant it was quite possible that everything she believed about men like him was wrong. And she could not comprehend such a thing. Not after it had ruled her life as it had for nearly a decade.
Blessedly, when she did see him later that night, he proved immediately that he could not have possibly told her the truth regarding his desires for her. For never had a man looked less thrilled to be in a woman’s presence than he did when she descended the stairs with Lady Belham for their planned evening out.
“Grace,” he said, all warmth and smiles as he moved forward to kiss his cousin on the cheek, “you look stunning. You will put every other lady there to shame.”
As Lady Belham laughed at his flattery, he turned to Rosalind. Immediately his smile faltered, his eyes skimming over her face and coming to rest somewhere above her right ear. Rosalind fought the urge to reach up to verify she didn’t have something offensive sprouting from the side of her head, so distasteful was his expression.
“Miss Merriweather,” he said with unconcealed reluctance.
And that was that. He offered his arm to Lady Belham, forcing Rosalind to trail behind them as they exited the townhouse and climbed into the waiting carriage.
“I must say,” Lady Belham said, adjusting her skirts to make room for Rosalind on the plush bench, “I truly enjoyed last night, Tristan. Lord Avery’s musicale was wonderful, a feast for the senses. I can see why they are highly acclaimed.”
“I’m glad you joined me,” he replied. The carriage started forward with a gentle rocking. “I did not expect to have your company.”
“Miss Merriweather does seem to have the most intuitive knowledge of what amusements I will find enjoyable,” Lady Belham replied. “I’m of a mind to give her free rein with my schedule.” She chuckled, patting Rosalind’s hand with affection.
Rosalind pierced Tristan with a look. Surely he would not ignore that. He never seemed to be able to pass up a chance to torment her.
But beside a slight tick in the muscles of his jaw there was no reaction at all from the man. He kept his eyes focused with impressive intensity on Lady Belham. It was like his cousin had not spoken of Rosalind at all. As if Rosalind was not even there.
A small devil seemed to perch on her shoulder then. Narrowing her eyes, she said, “Sir Tristan is the one with the intuition, I think. I am merely following suit. Though you must be happy, Sir Tristan, to be in company so often with your cousin.”
He did not even flick a glance her way. Instead he leveled a smile on Lady Belham. “It is true that I am happy to escort you about. It was my fondest wish when you first told me you would be joining me in London that we would be able to spend some time together. We got that chance so seldom when you were at Manderly Hall.”
“And yet you will not stop hounding me about my housing prospects,” she teased.
“Only because I believe you will be much happier to have a home of your own. You lived so long under Belham’s watch, you must be excited to have a place where your taste and spirit can be indulged.”
“That I would,” she mused, a melancholy look entering her eyes. It cleared quickly enough, turned to a teasing twinkle. “That does not mean I am in a hurry to leave your glorious company. Unless you wish to be rid of me?”
Once again that small devil whispered in Rosalind’s ear. “It’s not you he wishes to be rid of, my lady. I do believe Sir Tristan would be happy to see me gone with all haste.”
The blunt statement rang through the confines of the carriage. Finally Tristan’s gaze settled on her. Yet instead of denouncing her claim, as he would typically do, he merely stared at her with those blue eyes of his that told her he agreed with her wholeheartedly.
She swallowed past the surprising lump of hurt that settled in her throat.
Lady Belham laughed. “Miss Merriweather, you do know how to lighten the mood. It is why I adore having you about so.”
She went on talking, but Rosalind heard not a word. Instead she was held captive by Tristan’s gaze. Finally he turned to answer his cousin, releasing Rosalind from the prison of his unnerving stare.
