Isaac eyed him dubiously. “I find that hard to believe.”
Tristan grinned. “Well, prepare to be very wrong. Lady Madeline and I are to be married.”
“Married?Married, Tristan?”
Tristan sighed. “You keep repeating that word as if you think it will change anything, my friend.”
Isaac heaved an irritated sigh. “You’re impossible, you know that?”
The two men had retreated to their study, leaving Dorothea to entertain Lord Beaufort and Madeline in her parlor. There was talk of finding a nurse for the baby, but in the meantime, Dorothea seemed content to cradle the little thing herself, staring down at him with adoration. Tristan had left the happy little group talking easily enough.
Any nervousness that Madeline might have felt at coming face-to-face so abruptly with her future mother-in-law would no doubt have been wiped away by Dorothea’s kindness and friendliness.
I daresay she’ll just be happy that I am marrying a lady and not an opera singer,he thought wryly.
“You seem to think that this is all a joke,” Isaac stated at last. “And I saw incredulity on Madeline’s face.”
Tristan took a moment before answering, pouring out two glasses of whiskey.
“Incredulity? What do you mean by that?”
Isaac gave another sigh. “I mean that she doesn’t believe a single word you say. And who can blame her? This seems to be just another move in a fight over that poor baby.”
Tristan gave a huff. “A fight that Madeline is determined not to lose. She intends to honor her promise to her friend. I cannot make her see that brothers trump friends.”
Isaac accepted the glass of whiskey with tight lips. “I wouldn’t be so sure about that. The blood of the covenant, after all, is thicker than the water of the womb.”
“Not so with Anthony and me.”
“And yet he never told you where he lived until it was too late.”
That stung. Tristan shot an angry glare at his friend, although of course, Isaac would not be cowed.
“Anthony was stubborn,” Tristan stated at last. “We had that in common. He wrote frequently to me. It was never Mother or me who resented his marriage. It was Father, as well you know.”
“I make no accusations, Tristan.”
“It doesn’t sound that way.”
Isaac set aside his whiskey glass with a decisive click. “I only want you to understand the gravity of all of this. This is not asilly dalliance, Tristan. It is a serious andbindingengagement with a very respectable lady. And what’s more, she’s a friend ofmyfamily. Charlotte adores her. There’ll be consequences if you back out of this marriage.”
Tristan settled himself in his usual seat, a high-backed armchair beside the fireplace, directly opposite Isaac.
“What if I told you that I had no intention of backing out?”
Isaac was silent for a moment. “I thought… Miss Bolt…”
“Miss Bolt wants to be a duchess. I imagine she does not particularly care whether she becomes a duchess or a lady. We have had good times together, but of late I’ve noticed that her ambitions have taken a singular turn. She is not financially dependent on me, by any stretch of the imagination, and she does not love me. Nor do I love her. I’m free to marry, as is she.”
“I see,” Isaac murmured. “Sometimes, Tristan, you truly do baffle me.”
“I shall take that as a compliment,” Tristan responded, grinning and lifting his glass in a toast. “I don’t require your blessing on my engagement, but I do not have many friends, so I’d like it all the same.”
Isaac gave a low, incredulous chuckle. “As if it would make a difference.”
“Tut-tut, Isaac. I have the highest opinion of your advice.”
“To be sure. She’s too good for you, you know. Madeline, I mean.”
