She walked away before Charlotte could reply, shouldering her way through the crowd with more boldness than before.
This is not jealousy,Madeline reminded herself.It is simply a matter of avoiding humiliation for myself. I do not care who he flirts with—really, I do not—so long as it isn’t under the eyes of all our friends.
Yes, that was an entirely suitable motivation. She wasnotjealous, and the tingling sensation in her gut was probably indigestion. Nothing more, nothing less. As she approached, her ears pricked up at the sound of their conversation.
“I suppose you know that I haven’t danced since Mr. Francis died,” Mrs. Francis remarked, smiling coyly up at him. “But I might be convinced to stand up with such a handsome man as yourself. What an honor to dance with a groom on his wedding day.”
“An honor indeed,” Tristan laughed. He wassmilingat her. Was he really allowing a woman to flirt with him, today of all days? Madeline bit the tip of her tongue to keep from shouting something improper.
“I hear the musicians starting to tune up their instruments,” Mrs. Francis added, dropping her voice to a seductive whisper. “The ball will open soon. Perhaps you and I should begin the dancing. We should lead the dancing. What do you say?”
Madeline stopped dead, equal parts furious and incredulous.
Is this woman really trying to dance with my husband on my wedding day? For our first dance, no less?
Yes, it appeared that she was. Mrs. Francis shuffled a little closer, laying a hand on his arm.
It was entirely too much. Madeline had seen quite enough. She stormed forward the last few feet, elbowing her way between them. She put her back to Mrs. Francis, who gave an outraged squeak, obliging the woman to jump backward a few paces.
Madeline looked up at Tristan, who was looking down at her with an expression of pure amusement in his eyes.
“Husband,” Madeline shot out, teeth gritted. “May I speak with you for a moment?”
He appeared to be holding back a laugh.
“Why, of course,” he responded, eyes widening innocently. “I do hope everything is all right.”
CHAPTER 10
Tristan fought back a grin. He had spotted Madeline stamping across the ballroom toward him, of course, and had done his best to keep the amused smile off his face. It seemed to infuriate her when he smirked.
Of course it does,echoed a voice in his head, which sounded suspiciously like Anthony’s.Youareinfuriating when you smirk. It’s like you know a secret you aren’t going to share with anyone else.
The voice sent a pang of pain through Tristan’s chest. When was the last time he’d seen his brother? When was the last time he’d heard Anthony’s voice? Their separation had perhaps gone deeper than he had thought.
It’s my fault. I always thought that we would have more time. And as it turns out, we had hardly any time at all.
There was just time to smooth out his expression before Madeline arrived. She shot a baleful glare at the woman who was talking to Tristan—what was her name again? Mrs. F-Something. Mrs. Fillcott? No, that wasn’t it. Well, it hardly mattered.
“Husband, may I speak with you for a moment?” Madeline said, eyes fixed darkly on him. She was clearly displeased about something, but being as small and adorable as she was, it was like being menaced by a kitten.
Tristan made a polite bow to the widow who’d been speaking to him and excused himself. The widow looked thoroughly disappointed and a little angry, which confused him.
She had been at the church, for heaven’s sake. She had watched Tristan exchange vows with his new wife. A little flirting was all very well, but surely she couldn’t expect anything to come of it. Flirting was harmless, but anything beyond that could be troublesome.
Although judging by the clipped, angry tone in Madeline’s voice and the way she bustled along the hallways without looking back, Tristan began to think that perhapsshedid not consider flirting to be harmless.
But what objections could she possibly have? They were not to be a proper husband and wife. Tristan would not be joining his wife in bed tonight. She was to keep the rooms she had had during her stay here—a pleasant suite in the East Wing, as far away as possible from Tristan’s room.
The duchess’s rooms, a suite that connected to Tristan’s own room by a connecting door, would remain unoccupied. He wasn’t sure he could blame her. Perhaps she was wise to avoid those rooms. He might find himself unable to sleep one night, and might well creep through the adjoining door and slip into her bed, simply to see what she would do.
Scream, most likely,Tristan thought wryly.The girl seems determined to keep me at arm’s length. And perhaps she is right to do so.
Madeline led the way out of the ballroom, following a dark hallway lit by candles, with doors all firmly closed. The hint was clear—guests were to stay out of these rooms. They were mostly reading rooms, storage rooms, and a couple of small spare rooms, which were occasionally used as studies, but it was never wise to put ladies and gentlemen together at a party, and then give them quiet, secluded places to meet.
Madeline opened the door to the first room and went inside. Tristan followed, quietly closing the door behind him.
They were in a little reading room, complete with bookshelves and a large, comfortable-looking armchair in the corner. A candelabra was set on a low table, throwing a buttery, flickering light over the space.
