So this was to be a conversation, was it? She drew herself up to her full height—not very impressive, considering she did not even reach his chin—and leveled a cool stare on him. “As well as can be expected.”
He grinned, flashing disgustingly straight teeth. “And what is it you expected?”
“Do you truly wish me to answer that, sir?” she gritted.
“Certainly. As it can run the gamut anywhere from a veritable paradise to the very bowels of hell itself, you can be assured my curiosity is piqued.”
“If you truly wish to know.”
His grin widened. “Oh, I do.”
“Very well.” She looked to Mrs. Gladstow, ensuring the woman was still deep in conversation with the rest of the group before returning her attention to Sir Tristan. She cleared her throat. “It is in my very decided opinion that London is full of men who think only of their own pleasure and do not care who gets hurt in its pursuit. It is full of spoiled people with nothing better to do than to preen and gloat before others. It is a place of heartache and vice. And I wish I never had to come.”
The man’s smile did not falter. But there was something deep in his eyes that changed, sobering. She might not have seen it had she not been watching him so closely. “Thatisa very decided opinion, Miss Merriweather. And do you think there is nothing that might change your mind?”
“No, nothing. And if I may be so bold, Sir Tristan?”
“I do not think I could stop you if I wanted to, but I find I am most anxious to hear what you have to say.”
“Very well. To be honest, everything I have seen thus far has only cemented those opinions.”
For a single moment his expression altered. And she felt she could see to the depths of him. Before she could process it his debonair smile was back in place, his eyes twinkling merrily again.
“That is such a shame. For I think you would find there is much to recommend London—and its people—if you only open yourself up to it.”
Before she could think of how to reply to that the butler entered, announcing dinner. Sir Tristan gave her a polite nod, stepping past her and offering Miss Gladstow his arm.
“I hope you are not opposed to my escort into dinner, Miss Gladstow?” To Rosalind’s surprise, the girl placed her hand readily enough on his arm—it must be that smile, damn him—and they walked off toward the massive double doors, leaving Rosalind to look after him with not a small amount of confusion.
