Tristan’s brows lifted in question.
Allie turned in her husband’s embrace to look at her twin, gaze suddenly bashful.
Leaning forward, she murmured softly for his ears alone, “I discovered last week that I am in a family way.” She added in Italian, “Sono incinta.”
Ethan pressed a hand to Allie’s middle, his smile wide and radiant.
“Truly? Ah, Allie.” Joy flooded Tristan’s chest. “That is the best news. Congratulations.”
Of course, the words set his sister to weeping in earnest, crying first on Ethan’s chest and then Tristan’s.
“I’m going to be a t-terrible m-mother,” she hiccupped in his ear.
“Nonsense,” Tristan laughed. “Your children will adore you.”
“No. My children will adore Ethan.” She looked to her husband who stood speaking with Sir Rafe. “I mean, he is just impossibly lovable.”
As if to emphasize her point, Ethan laughed, a stunningly charismatic smile enveloping his face.
And then Allie began crying once more.
Tristan pressed a kiss to her temple.
“Now.” His twin pointed a finger at him, tears still streaming downher face. “Tell me everything that has happened since your marriage! And don’t you dare leave out a single detail!”
Allie dragged him to a window seat and forced him to regale her with the entire tale of his shipwreck and time on the island.
Occasionally, Tristan met Isolde’s gaze across the room. She sat with her mother, surely recounting the same story.
And the whole scenario felt . . .
Well, it felt like family.
Warm. Accepting. Like the memory of playing blind man’s bluff with his mother and Allie in the nursery of Hawthorn as a child.
If only Tristan could find a way to hold on to this feeling . . .
But that hope was quickly dashed.
They had all just stood to retire to dress for dinner when Hadley approached Tristan.
“A word, Kendall, if ye please.” It was not a request.
Tristan followed Hadley into an alcove, dread a burning coal in his gut.
The earl got straight to the point.
“I know what ye did. Rafe knows what ye did. Hell, all of London knows what ye did.” Hadley’s icy stare chilled Tristan’s spine. “But it’s clear that my Izzy doesn’t yet know of your perfidy. I don’t care how your new onslaught of information damages myself. But in this, ye have deceived my daughter and hidden your wrongs from her eyes. Ye broke a promise—one of many, I am sure. I should tell her myself right—”
“Hadley,” Tristan began.
The earl put up a staying hand. “Ishouldtell her right now—and I cannot guarantee that someone else here won’t say something—but this isyourbetrayal. Your wrong. And I don’t wish my daughter tae be angry with me for being the harbinger of bad news. You will gather what spineless courage ye can muster and tell her. I’ll give ye until tomorrow morning tae confess all.” Hadley consulted his pocket-watch. “Ye have twelve hours, Duke.”
Dinner and theensuing conversation were raucous affairs.
Tristan heard little of either, preferring to remain at the edge of the festivities. It nearly felt like a wake, a celebration of the life he might have had.
His thoughts were still overwrought as he climbed into bed and pulled his wife into his arms.
