Damn, this woman was an abomination. Her cheek knew no bounds.
“Well,” Tristan continued in his silkiest ducal voice. The menacing one that had sent chills down his spine to hear on Old Kendall’s lips. “You shall both understand how thoroughly I learned lessons at my father’s knee.”
Old Kendall’s cruelty was well-known, particularly among their family.
Given Lady Lavinia’s inhalation, she was not immune to Tristan’s threats, thank goodness. Of a surety, every word he spoke would be reported back to her mother and on to the queen. For a man who wished to ensure Her Majesty believed him to be of sound mind, his behavior likely needed to be more temperate. That knowledge was the only thing stopping him from evicting Aubrey and Lavinia on the spot.
Tristan could feel a headache forming between his eyes. He and Isolde should have ignored the Queen’s summons, retreated to Canna, and spent their days blessedly oblivious to the machinations of the wider world.
“Good morning,” Isolde said from the doorway.
Standing, Tristan turned to his wife. As usual, his duchess was unbearably lovely in a lace-trimmed walking dress thataccentuated her lithe height and small waist. Against the cream of her skin and the burnished copper of her hair, she stole his breath as surely as a Highland breeze.
Isolde appeared every whit the wealthy duchess she was, which was fortunate as she and Lady Hadley were to leave calling cards today.
However, one look at the expressions of everyone in the room, and Isolde faltered. Oh, Tristan doubted that Lady Lavinia or Cousin Aubrey noticed, but he knew his love. He could see the dismay flicker behind her eyes and the quick intuitive understanding that scurrilous words had recently been said about her. Moreover, the faint purple smudges under her eyes spoke to her own restless night. She claimed it was nothing, but Tristan feared the tumult of the past twenty-four hours was already taxing her fortitude.
“Good morning.” Tristan pulled out the chair next to his and, pressing a hand to the small of Isolde’s back, guided her to sit. “Permit me to fetch a plate for you, my dear.”
He crossed to the series of dishes sitting on the sideboard, but not before hearing Lady Lavinia’s faint snort of derision.
Bloody hell, the next month was going to prove long.
Lady Hadley arrivedshortly after breakfast. And though Tristan could scarcely believe his own thoughts, he was eternally grateful that Lord Hadley accompanied her. It was a comfort to see a familiar male ally.
The ladies quickly gathered their things and drove away in the gleaming ducal carriage. Watching the coach melt intothe traffic of Grosvenor Square, Tristan bemoaned, yet again, that accompanying Isolde would be frowned upon. No wonder aristocratic marriages were generally business-like, chilly affairs.
“Care to join me today, Kendall?” Hadley asked from behind him. Tristan looked back at his father-in-law standing in the main entrance hall, hat in hand.
“I would be delighted, Hadley.” Though the men had moved on to a first-name basis with one another, they continued to use their titles in company.
Hadley grinned. “I haven’t mentioned where I might be going.”
“It hardly matters,” Tristan muttered, his eyes sliding toward the breakfast room where Lady Lavinia’s strident voice could still be heard. He motioned for Fredericks to fetch his coat, hat, and gloves. “Wherever you are going, Hadley, it’s not here, and that makes it perfect.”
“Let’s see what ye have to say about it in a few hours’ time,” Hadley chuckled.
Minutes later, Tristan happily climbed into Hadley’s town carriage, sitting beside his father-in-law.
Their first stop? The offices ofThe London Tattler.
“Bless you,” Tristan murmured as he stepped from the carriage. “How did you know I needed to release a head of steam?”
Chuckling, Hadley patted his back. “Consider it a belated wedding gift.”
Tristan donned his haughtiest look and demanded to speak with the editor. The man emerged from a back room, unconcerned and arrogant.
After ten minutes of Tristan’s blistering set-down and threats of legal action, the man was reduced to white-faced, stammering apologies. He admitted that the information had been sentanonymously to the newspaper. Recalling Lady Lavinia’s smug expression earlier, Tristan suspected he knew the source.
Needless to say, the editor would think thrice before publishing anything so incendiary about the Duchess of Kendall again.
“I must say, witnessing all that Kendall vitriol wielded on behalf of my daughter rather warms my heart,” Hadley said as they settled back into the carriage. “We should have brought yourself over to our side years ago.”
“Do not push your luck, Hadley,” Tristan snorted. “Your fair daughter possesses many fine qualities that you yourself lack. Where are we off to next?”
“Ye shall see.”
It became something of a lark after that, trying to decipher beforehand where they might go.
