“The maids had told us about a festival held in the next town over,” he admitted. “There were supposed to be lots of pretty girls, as much cider as a man could drink, pies, cakes, sweets, beer, everything. Whiskey, even. Anthony heard about it first. We knew if we asked permission to go, the answer would be a resoundingno. So, we saddled up a pair of horses and decided that it was best to ask forgiveness instead of permission.”
Madeline made a strangled sound, and Tristan glanced over to find that she was struggling to hold back a giggle. A smile slipped onto his face.
“Was it worth it?” she choked. “The festival, I mean?”
“Heavens, no. It was all old men and fearsome farmers’ wives. The pies were edible; the cakes rather disappointing. The cider and beer were acceptable. No whiskey. It didn’t matter, though. We drank about a barrel each, it felt like, then tottered home drunk.”
“Drunk!”
“Gentlemen get drunk, Duchess,” Tristan remarked wryly. “It’s a fact of life, I’m afraid. In all honesty, it was foolish of us. We made it home only because of our horses. We managed to get ourselves into the saddle, and the faithful creatures simply walked us home. My mother was frantic.” The smile faded from his face a little. “We shouldn’t have put her through that. But that is my point. A child cannot understand the pain they might inflict on others. My brother and I did not understand how our mother felt. We do now, but now is too late.”
There was silence after that. He could feel Madeline’s eyes on him. Did she blame him? Judge him? It was hard to tell. Tristan longed to look over at her. It would be the easiest thing in the world to roll onto his elbow again, lean up, fit his lips to hers… or perhaps that was too much. He could simply reach up, letting his fingertips ghost across her exposed collarbone, up the column of her neck to where her pulse fluttered at the side…
Adam burped loudly. Tristan flinched.
Madeline tutted, leaning over to fiddle with his swaddle.
“Well, I don’t think that Adam will be doing such reckless things,” she announced.
Tristan burst out laughing. “That is the second time you have used that word, duchess.Reckless. Forgive me, but I think that everybody needs to let go every once in a while.”
Madeline sniffed disapprovingly. “Well, as long as they don’t embarrass themselves.”
He studied her for a moment. She was aware of his eyes on her; he knew that. He wondered briefly if she felt his presence the way he felt hers.
Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe she was only putting up with him in exchange for raising her friend’s baby.
He glanced down at Adam, who was smiling up at the ceiling.
“He’s smiling,” Tristan said, hearing the surprise in his own voice. “How long has he been smiling for?”
“I don’t know enough about babies to know that,” Madeline admitted. “But he has been smiling today. We can expect that he will start crawling soon, and walking quickly follows that.”
“He’s going to be a menace,” Tristan breathed, with growing horror.
Madeline nodded. “I think that’s quite likely, yes. And as to what you said regarding peopleletting themselves go…”
“That isn’t quite what I said.”
“Well, at any rate, I think it depends on whether they’re likely to embarrass themselves.”
He chuckled. “I think it depends on howeasilythey are embarrassed, wouldn’t you say?”
As he’d known would happen, color rushed to her face, and Madeline threw him an annoyed glare.
They sat in silence for a moment, the fire crackling, the fur warm beneath them. Adam burbled a little more, and after a while, his eyelids grew heavy. Before they knew it, the baby was asleep.
Tristan watched the baby’s sleeping face and saw traces of Anthony there. A lump formed in his throat, and he abruptly sat up, turning away.
“You didn’t come back to the party last night,” he said shortly. “Why not?”
Madeline sucked in a breath. “Why, I… I thought it best to put some distance between us.”
“Oh? And why is that?”
He could feel her eyes on him, but did not allow himself to turn and look at her.
“Why do you think?” Madeline said after a moment. “You speak of my being easily embarrassed. Well, perhaps I am. I do not like being looked at. I do not like being the center of attention. That party was an awful experience for me.”
