Page 83 of The Earl's Reluctant Artist
A knock at the door rang out cold in the air, slicing the tension between them. They both startled. She pulled her hand free at once, her breath sharp.
The moment fractured.
Tristan stood quickly, almost too quickly, steadying himself with a deep breath. He looked at her once more, her cheeks tinged with bright red and her eyes downcast.
“Of course,” he muttered. He crossed the room, his steps firm but heavy, and pulled open the door.
Mr. Kale stood there, his hands folded in front of him and his expression apologetic.
“Mr. Kale?” Tristan said, his words a question rather than an acknowledgement.
“My lord,” the older man greeted him with a small bow. “Forgive the intrusion at this hour. A letter just came for you.”
Tristan straightened. “A letter?”
“Yes, my lord.” Mr. Kale responded, extending a folded envelope sealed in red wax across to him. “Thought about giving it to you tomorrow, but I do not know when you will be leaving the inn.”
Tristan accepted it with a nod. “Thank you for bringing it.”
Kale shifted his weight, looking past Tristan as though unsure if he should speak further. Then he cleared his throat. “There is also a letter for Lady Vale.”
Tristan turned his head slightly. “Really?”
“Yes, my lord.” Kale produced a second envelope and handed it over. “Both were delivered by a private courier who would not say more..”
Tristan felt his gaze grow sharp. “I see. He inclined his head. “Thank you for bringing it up here.”
“Do you need anything else? Perhaps some extra blankets or warm water for the night?” Mr. Kale asked, his measured tone anxious.
“No. Thank you. That will be all.”
“As you wish, my lord.” Mr. Kale exhaled, bowed again, and stepped away down the hallway.
Tristan closed the door and carried both letters inside. Eliza was still perched on the bed, her posture tight and her eyes fixed on him with unspoken curiosity.
He crossed the room and held out the smaller envelope. “This is yours.”
Her fingers brushed his as she took it. “From whom?”
“We shall soon see,” Tristan replied, breaking the seal on his own.
He opened the letter and read.
The words struck like hammer blows.
What?
He felt his jaw grow tight. This could not be true. This had to be impossible. He read again, slower this time, each sentence pressing the weight of truth heavier upon him.
No.
Eliza tilted her head, noticing his change of color. “What is it? Did something happen back home?”
He lowered the page, his hand tightening on the edge. “It is from the duke.”
Her voice softened. “What does he say?”
Tristan’s eyes burned on the lines once more before he answered. “Apparently, in the few days we have spent out here,the manor has received a visitor. A man called Lord Blackmere has been purchasing several small plots near Evermere’s border.”
