Page 62 of A Match Made in London
It was no surprise to him now that Rosalind didn’t trust him as far as she could throw him. Which, for Rosalind, wasn’t far at all, considering her diminutive stature. She had been vocal enough on the subject in the past. Therefore, he knew she required more than the usual platitudes to get her to agree.
He placed a hand on his heart. “I vow I shall not promote my own candidate for the good lady’s hand,” he swore with utmost seriousness. “I will do everything in my power to ensure both men are on equal ground with her, and will see to it that they are all in company together as much as I can manage.”
For a moment he thought she might turn her back on him and declare the whole idea preposterous. But then she held out her hand.
“Very well. I accept.”
He grabbed hold of it before she could reconsider, shaking it firmly. But as she moved away to Grace’s side, he couldn’t help thinking he’d signed a deal with the devil.
• • •
Rosalind had known the second she’d shaken Tristan’s hand she’d made a mistake. Not that she didn’t believe she could win; with every fiber of her being she knew she would.
But what she’d realized in the split second their hands had met—besides the disturbing zing along her nerves, of course—was that, to see to it that Tristan dealt with the situation fairly, she would have to watch him like a hawk. Which would not be easy, for every time she looked on him she thought of him confessing that he wanted her, sending her body spiraling into molten desire.
But the draw of winning, of having him give up his matchmaking and meddling in these women’s lives, was too potent a thing to ignore. For his choice in men was appalling.
She purposely ignored the fact that the man he’d matched Miss Gladstow with had been ideal for her. What had he done, after all, but clear the path for two people already in love?
Lord Kingston was another matter entirely. The man was a rake and a rogue. How Tristan could ever consider him a proper husband for the shy, nervous Miss Weeton was baffling. Why, even if the earl did marry the girl, he would make her miserable within a fortnight, for he could not be content with the quiet life that having such a wife would require. Goodness only knew how many other couples Tristan had matched in his illustrious career—and how many young women’s lives he had inadvertently ruined. Even if his intentions were good, it was evident his instincts were ghastly. The man had to be stopped at all costs.
Even if it meant she would have to suffer some highly improper, unwelcome feelings for him in the meantime.
Like now. As he had promised, he had gathered them all at Mrs. Juniper’s rout the following evening. And, as promised, he had seen to it that Miss Weeton and her two beaus were seated at the same card table, then had excused himself to let nature take its course. She certainly could not say he had not kept his word thus far. Which, she had to admit, she had not expected. She had spent so long thinking that men of his ilk were the devil incarnate, she could not easily let go of the natural distrust that simmered within her breast.
She had watched closely for him to break his word. Goodness, but she had watched him closely. But he had not done a single thing to awaken her suspicions. If anything, he was the perfect gentleman.Blast him.
But she could not stay here in the card room indefinitely. Shooting one last look Tristan’s way, she walked out, making her way down the hallway to the drawing room and Lady Belham. She had a job to do, after all, one that did not include watching certain baronets to make sure they didn’t cheat.
Before she reached her destination, however, she heard him behind her. No, that wasn’t right, for the hallway was too populated to hear his quiet steps with any clarity. Shefelthim. Instantly her body tightened in anticipation. Furious at herself for her reaction, she hurried her steps.
“Why so rushed, Rosalind?”
She shot him an annoyed look. “I’m merely returning to my post.”
He matched his steps to hers. “I must say, I’m honored you trusted me enough to leave me alone with them.”
“I don’t trust you, not even a bit.”
To her surprise, he actually looked hurt by her snide outburst. “I do wonder what I’ve done to bring about this distrust.”
Instant guilt overtook her. Not a welcome sensation by any means. Still, she was not an unfair person. “I must admit,” she said grudgingly, “that you have not given me cause to say such things since making our bargain. You have been incredibly forthright since yesterday.”
“High praise indeed,” he murmured, his blue eyes twinkling with mirth.
Despite herself, she felt her mood lighten. “Yes, well, you should feel honored. I don’t often give such glowing compliments.”
He stopped and stared at her. She stopped as well, ignoring the people about them, and gave him a quizzical look.
“Why, Rosalind, was that a jest?”
She could not stop the inevitable curve her lips took at his mock surprise. “You know, it might have been.”
“Will wonders never cease?”
As they entered the drawing room, Rosalind found herself not a little stunned. What had that little exchange been? And why did she no longer mind having him by her side? He was no different than he had been yesterday.
Yet something had changed. Watching him to ensure he kept his word to her had loosened something long held and closely kept within her.
