Stunned, feeling as if he’d taken a plunge in an icy lake, Tristan stumbled back a step. What the devil was wrong with him? He was in a roomful of people, at the home of one of the premier hostesses in London. And he had been damn near to kissing Miss Merriweather.
He was going mad, that must be it.
Apparently unaware of his turmoil, Mrs. Gladstow took Miss Merriweather’s arm in what looked to be a punishing grip and whispered fiercely in her ear. Miss Merriweather, for her part, looked completely unfazed. All but for the slight flicker of what looked to be fear in her eyes, and the barely perceptible tightening around her mouth that resembled nothing so much as a wince of pain.
Fury coursed through him, hot and swift. “Mrs. Gladstow, I suggest you unhand Miss Merriweather this instant.”
The woman froze, turning shocked eyes his way. “I beg your pardon?”
“You should, though Miss Merriweather deserves it far more than me.” He looked pointedly at her fingers, which were digging into the tender skin of the younger woman’s arm.
Mrs. Gladstow released Miss Merriweather as if she’d been burned. “My apologies, Sir Tristan,” she said stiffly. “I was merely letting the girl know her place. She should not have been bothering you as she was.”
“She was not bothering me, I assure you. I merely asked her if she enjoyed her first foray into a true London dining experience and she was indulging me.”
Miss Merriweather looked at him sharply, no doubt surprised at the small fib. Blessedly, she was smart enough to keep silent. Mrs. Gladstow, for her part, looked only slightly mollified. To further distract from her annoyance at her companion, he said, “By the way, your daughter is a lovely dinner companion, Mrs. Gladstow. I was so happy to have secured a seat beside her. She charmed me quite completely.”
As expected, the woman’s expression—and attention, thank goodness—changed in an instant. Her meager chest puffed up with pride. “I am so happy to hear you say so, Sir Tristan. As I have told my Sarah repeatedly, she need only apply herself and she will turn heads.”
As the woman rambled on, listing her daughter’s attributes as if she were trotting out a broodmare for sale, Tristan was aware of the long, considering look Miss Merriweather gave him.Escape, you daft thing, he thought. At long last she did just that, moving off silently to join Miss Gladstow across the room.
As he listened with a rapt expression to Mrs. Gladstow, however, his mind stayed with Miss Merriweather. The woman was such an unexpected creature. He’d never known another like her. He was utterly surprised by her. But, more than that, his physical reaction to her left him not a little dazed.
He was sure it had been the heat of the moment. And his lack of female companionship for—what was it, several months now? Egad, he’d best see to that, and soon. Surely then his strange desire for the very outspoken Miss Merriweather would be completely eradicated. Yes, that was it. He would visit one of his willing widows with all haste. And he would think no more of Miss Merriweather and her delectable mouth.
