The message was clear, as always. She knew exactly what she wanted to say.
He could, of course, ignore it. The prospect was tempting. He could pretend that he had not received her message and go about his day as normal.
But where would that leave him?
Sighing, Tristan got to his feet, crumpling up the letter. He would, of course, show it to Madeline and explain the situation, but only after he had managed the issue. He placed the letterdown on his desk for later. The answer was clear, and he knew what he had to do. He strode toward the doorway, head spinning…
The door opened before he could touch the doorknob. Madeline stood there.
He took a step back, suddenly wary.
She will suspect me at once, and I can hardly blame her. If I were in her shoes, I would suspect me, too. Once I have dealt with this issue, I will explain all.
“Tristan,” she said, smiling. “I was not aware you had had your breakfast already. Truly, I slept like the dead last night.”
Of course, she had. Last night, they had danced and laughed and talked at the Devil’s ball until the early hours of the morning. He wished he could have forgotten what James had said so that he could have rested, too. Light had streaked the sky by the time they returned home. He did not blame her for sleeping so soundly.
It did not change the way guilt shot through his gut at the sight of her face.
Enough,he told himself angrily.You have no reason to feel guilty. You have done nothing wrong.
“So did I,” he answered, smiling back. “I have business to attend to this morning, Madeline, but we’ll have luncheon together. Would that suit you?”
He saw anxiety slide over her face, with a touch of hesitation there. He did not blame her. He had done plenty to merit hesitation. She fought past it, however.
“Of course,” Madeline answered firmly. “I would love to luncheon with you. We can bring Adam down, too. What would you say?”
“I should love it,” he answered firmly, and bent down to kiss her cheek. Her skin was warm and supple under his lips, and his chest tightened.
Enough,he told himself.Later.
They seemed to have crossed a threshold last night. Despite her obvious displeasure at his refusal to explain what James had meant—he would give his wretched cousin a good kicking later for saying thatblood will out, of all the ridiculous things to say—but it was also clear that she was willing to do thingsproperly.
The idea of being properly married sent shivers up and down Tristan’s spine. He had wanted her for as long as he had known her, but this sort of thing simply couldn’t be rushed.
He stepped past her, hoping that she wouldn’t be offended at his sudden departure. This sort of thing had to be dealt with quickly. The sooner the better, really.
Madeline watched Tristan hurry away, worrying her lower lip between her teeth. There was something on his mind; she knew that. He had not met her eyes, and his gaze had jumped about the room, thoroughly distracted.
It was difficult not to worry. Despite their sharp conversation last night about James’ remark—blood will out—she really did hope that she and Tristan had turned a corner. After all, wasn’t it better for Adam that they were a proper couple presenting a united front to the world?
Never mind the fact that you want him for yourself, you greedy thing,pointed out a dry voice at the back of her mind. Madeline winced and tried not to listen.
Tristan threw her a nervous smile and strode out of the room. She heard him calling for a footman at the end of the hall, demanding that his horse be fetched, andquickly.
It would be appropriate for Madeline to leave his room now. This was his study, his private space. There was nothing for her here.
And then she spotted a crumpled piece of paper on the edge of the desk, and her blood chilled. Why crumple up a letter only to place it reverentially on a desk, in plain sight?
I should leave it alone. It’s none of my concern,she told herself firmly, even as she leaned forward and picked up the piece of paper. She smoothed it out, heart thumping.
It was a handwritten note, written on ordinary paper, not the stiff, formal card of an invitation. No, this waspersonal.In fact, if she lifted the paper to her nose, she could smell the sweet, fragrant scent of perfume.Perfume?
She read the letter, her heart beating faster and faster.
My dearest Tristan,
We have something very important to discuss. If you can evade your interminable duchess, meet me at our usual spot.
