Morley and Willbridge were silent. Their expressions had not changed since he started talking. But he could see when he chanced a look at them something working in the depths of their eyes, like cogs in a clock whirring away.
And was it any wonder? For he had not only told them all that had happened with Rosalind—minus their love-making, of course, and any specifics regarding her sister, for he was not a cad—but also what he had failed to tell them over the years regarding his father. Every hurt, every tragedy, every insecurity he had was spread before them, like a feast of pain and suffering.
Unable to bear looking at them while they soaked in the glut of information he had poured out for them, he studied his glass, the way the late afternoon light played through the amber liquid, struggling to get through the dark, rich color. In one swallow he downed it, then brought the crystal glass back in front of his face. The light poured through, clear and unfettered.
That was what his chest felt like this moment, he realized. As much as it had pained him to reveal so much of himself to anyone, even these men whom he loved like brothers, it was freeing. It was like his soul had been wiped clean.
He wondered now if he would have ever found the strength to tell them if Rosalind had not first freed him to do so. She had loosened something in him, had given him permission to take what had shaped him and face it head on.
How would he continue to find that strength without her?
“So,” Willbridge said, “you have fallen in love.” He reached for the decanter at his elbow, refilling all their glasses to the brim before settling back and taking a sip.
“So it would seem,” Tristan responded dryly.
Morley tapped one finger on the rim of his glass. “And you are certain she does not return your feelings?”
Tristan felt his back teeth clench as the memory of Rosalind’s cold eyes and cruel words bit into him. “Quite certain,” he managed. “She was most emphatic herself, and so I have no reason to doubt her.”
“And you do not believe she could have been lying to you?” Willbridge asked after a long, thoughtful pause.
“What reason would she have to lie to me?” He let lose a sharp, angry laugh. “I was going to propose to her, damn it.”
“And did she know that?”
Morley’s quiet question stopped his anger in its tracks.
“You said her sister’s life was destroyed when she gave her heart to a man who did not return her affections,” his friend continued. “She may very well have seen a parallel to her own situation, would have been desperate to protect herself from the same fate.”
But Tristan was already shaking his head. “No. No, that’s not possible. I was going to offer for her—”
“Did she know?” Willbridge asked gently, echoing Morley’s question.
Tristan frowned. “She had to have known that I would offer for her after…well,” he hedged, clearing his throat.
Willbridge chuckled. “My friend, you are brilliant, from all accounts, with a woman’s body. But you are rubbish when it comes to knowing the workings of their hearts.”
“Hell,” Morley piped up, “I’m still rubbish at it. But I’m blessed to have a woman who at least knows the workings of my heart and has chosen to overlook my many, many blunders.”
“Trust me,” Willbridge continued, “for I speak from painful experience. If you love a woman, for God’s sake, let her know it. She is not a mind reader, man, though it seems at times they know much more than we want them to. When it comes to love, however, you must let her know exactly where your heart lies. She must have not a single doubt as to your feelings.”
Was it possible? Had he mucked the whole thing up assuming she would know his intentions? Damn it, surely he had told her he would not take her to bed without doing the right thing by her. He must have said something to that effect.
But as his friends quietly talked amongst themselves, leaving him to his troubled reflections, he thought back over that night when she had given so much of herself to him. And he realized he could not recall a single time his intentions had been addressed.
Oh, his plans for a future with her had filled his mind. All through that magical night, when he had held her in his arms and felt the glorious joining of his body with the woman he had come to love so completely and unexpectedly, he had thought how wonderful it would be to wake up with her beside him each day. How marriage to her would be, how he had never been happier in his life than in that moment. How he loved her.
Yet the words had never made it past his lips. They had been present in every kiss, every caress. But perhaps what Willbridge and Morley said was true, that the words themselves were as important as his actions.
And if that was the case, he was the biggest fool in creation.
He stood with a suddenness that stunned the other men into silence. When they saw the determination on his face, however, they both broke into grins.
“Good luck, old man,” Willbridge said as Morley saluted him with his glass.
Without a word Tristan left the room. They would understand his haste, he knew. And as he heard their chuckles follow him out into the hall he felt a grin tug on his own lips. He broke into a run, taking the stairs two at a time. If luck was on his side, he would get to London before Grace and Rosalind left. And he would see if fate was ready to take pity on him and grant him the love of the most maddening, wonderful woman he had ever known.
