The blasted English kept flocking to Florence.
And finding him.
And drawing him back into their world.
That was why.
He’d escaped his fate these last four and a half years, but he would succumb and be theirs again.
Soon.
“If it isn’t Ripon,” called a voice growing closer with each syllable.
Tristan’s head whipped around to find a tall, lean man of thirty-odd years approaching.Lord Daniel Windermere, Viscount Archer.Known to all as Archie, he was gaining ground at his customary rapid clip—the man didn’t know how to move any other way—and with a devil-may-care smile on his face. He didn’t know how to smile any other way, either.
At last, someone Tristan actually didn’t mind seeing. Though Archie was a few years younger, Tristan had always liked the lad when their attendance at Eton had overlapped. Always on the prowl for a good time, Lord Archer was. He was known for it.
The men gave each other great manly claps on the back as Tristan asked, “What brings you to Italy, Archer?” He didn’t quite feel on “Archie” terms with the man.
“Oh, you know, women,” said Archer on the laugh ever ready on his mouth.
Tristan snorted.
Archer gave his head a rueful shake. “Not that sort.” He cocked his head. “Well, mostly not that sort. Women of the familial variety.”
“Ah,” said Tristan as if he understood. He didn’t. He’d never paid much attention to Debrett’s, therefore knew nothing of Lord Archer’s family. He did seem to remember eccentric parents, though.
Someone caught Archer’s eye, and he jutted his chin. “Likethatsomeone.”
Across the gleaming mahogany parquet floor stood a lady who might be the tallest woman present.Willowy…elegant…and possessed of blonde hair that longed to be loosed from its staid chignon and set free into wild, unruly curls…
Her.
Tristan felt his brow crinkle. “Who is that woman?” he asked. He might’ve demanded.
“Thatladyis none other than one of two of my sisters,” said Archer.
Of course.She had the Windermere look.
“Amelia,” Archer called out.
Her shoulders tensed. She’d heard her brother. There wasn’t any way she couldn’t have. Half the room had heard, and turned.
Except her.
She was very clearly attempting to ignore her brother.
Even Tristan knew that wouldn’t work. Unafraid of making a scene, Archer wasn’t the sort of man to be ignored.
Archer cut Tristan a quick smile that teetered on the other side of audacious. “I’ll introduce you to my sister. She absolutely cannot stand improper introductions. Or improprieties of any sort, really. Sometimes, I feel she’s deserving of our pity, being born a Windermere, you know. It can’t be easy if all you want is the straight and proper path.”
Tristan knew he should beg off and attend to his hostess, but he found that he very much wanted to be introduced to this Amelia.LadyAmelia, as she was the daughter of an earl.
Archer gave his throat a loud clearing. “Amelia.”
Well, that secured the other half of the room’s attention. No longer could Lady Amelia deliberately disregard Archer. He’d made it impossible. She pivoted in a whirl of swishing peacock-blue skirts and glared at her brother as only a sister could. With a face like a Fury, she crossed the room, shoulders squared, with her dignity held intact. Admirable, really. Tristan found himself anticipating his official introduction to this Lady Amelia.
She’d opened her mouth, surely to launch into a blistering scold of her brother, when she spared Tristan a quick glance. The contact lasted no longer than the split of a second. A little crease formed on her brow. Her gaze flew toward him again and settled, teetering just on the edge of recognition.
