Grace sighed. “Yet, you cannot deny that he is captivating. And I do think there is a depth to him, that he mostly keeps hidden, but it shines through sometimes when he is talking about things that matter to him.”
Diana had to admit to herself that she agreed with Grace’s words. They matched her own experience of Tristan only too well.
She must remain cautious, though. There was still much at stake. “Or perhaps he is merely skilled at charming the ladies,” Diana replied, a hint of challenge in her tone. “We must be careful not to fall under his spell.”
“I just wish that you would try to engage him a little in conversation,” Grace suggested earnestly. “I think if you got to know him a little better, you would see that there is more to him than meets the eye.”
Diana let out a small huff. She still could not decipher her sister’s true feelings when it came to the earl. “I do not know what to make of it all,” she said, leaning back on the pillows of her bed. “And I will not come downstairs today, no matter what you say. I am unwell, and I need a day to recover.”
“Well, you must do what you think is right,” Grace said, getting to her feet. “But I must take my leave. There is a plan for some of the ladies to take a walk around the gardens before luncheon, while the gentlemen go out on a hunt. I do not want to hold the others up by making them wait for me.”
“Very well,” Diana said. “I will do as you ask, Grace, and I will try to be nicer to him, and more open to the idea that he is more than simply a rake. But I am yet to be convinced.”
Grace smiled. “I do not think that you will regret it, Diana.” She turned towards the door. “I hope that you feel better, and perhaps you might be able to rejoin the party later on today, when the gentlemen have returned from their hunting expedition.”
“We shall see,” Diana said. Her sister left the room and Diana listened as her footsteps echoed along the corridor as she made her way back to the party. She would try to join the party later, she resolved, even if it was the last thing she felt like doing.
Would she regret trying to get to know Tristan better? Diana wondered. She resolved to be stronger when it came to him, and to stay on her guard. She should, as the older sister, be able to follow her own advice, at the very least, when it came to resisting the charms of the earl.
CHAPTER 16
“Ithink we shall have fine sport today, gentlemen,” Tristan declared. He clambered up onto his horse and watched as the other gentlemen in the group did the same. The horses were skittish with excitement now; he was sure they were all intelligent enough to know what was coming next. He thought, in fact, that horses were more intelligent than some people of his acquaintance.
The crisp autumn air was alive with anticipation as the sun cast its golden light over the sprawling grounds of Tristan’s estate and he felt a moment of pride as he surveyed the scene. The trees, adorned in shades of amber and crimson, whispered secrets to the wind, while the sound of the hounds barking filled the atmosphere with excitement. Tristan was excited for the hunt to get underway.
Before long, the hunt leader blew his horn, a piercing sound that cut through the hubbub of noise. The hounds bayed in eager anticipation, and the gentlemen, all mounted on their horses, sat upright, ready to start. The thrill of the chase was palpable.
“Ready yourself, Pembroke,” Tristan called over his shoulder, his voice laced with a teasing challenge. “I expect you to keep up this time. Last season, I nearly caught the fox while you were busy admiring the scenery.” He felt a sudden desire to outdo the man who had upset Diana so much, but he tried to quash the thought. It was not sensible to take thoughts of revenge out onto a hunt, and it was even less sensible, he thought, to be thinking about Diana at this particular moment in time.
Lord Pembroke gave a lopsided grin as he adjusted his grip on the reins. “I merely took a moment to appreciate the beauty of nature, Everton. You know, not all of us are driven solely by the thrill of the hunt.” He nudged his chestnut stallion forward, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “But I assure you, today will be different. I intend to give you a run for your money.”
With a shared glance of camaraderie, the two gentlemen spurred their horses into action, galloping side by side as they dashed into the woods, the sound of hooves thundering on the ground and the hounds’ eager cries echoing behind them. The thrill of the chase surged through Tristan’s veins, the fresh air invigorating as they wove through the trees, laughter and shouts mixing with the calls of the hunt. Each leap over a fallen log and each turn through the underbrush brought them closer to the quarry. Tristan felt, if only for a fleeting moment, as if he could leave the burdens of the expectations of society behind him.
As the hunt progressed, the excitement reached a fever pitch, with hounds yipping and the scent of the fox guiding the riders deeper into the woods. Lord Pembroke, riding with a reckless abandon that was both exhilarating and dangerous, urged hisstallion forward, his laughter ringing out as he leaned low over the horse's neck, ducking to avoid a low branch.
But in a moment of distraction, his foot slipped from the stirrup, and the stallion, startled by a sudden rustle in the underbrush, reared up violently. Pembroke was thrown off balance, his grip faltering as he was unceremoniously tossed to the ground, tumbling amidst the swirling leaves and twigs. A sharp gasp escaped his lips as he landed hard on the forest floor, the impact knocking the wind from his lungs and leaving him momentarily dazed.
Tristan, who had been a few paces behind, witnessed the entire calamity unfold in horror. Without a second thought, he spurred his mare forward, rushing to Pembroke’s side.
“Stay still, Pembroke!” he ordered, his voice firm yet filled with concern as he dismounted in one fluid motion. He did not like the man, but he had not wished for this outcome for him, not really.
Pembroke groaned, attempting to sit up, but Tristan knelt beside him, assessing the situation with a quick glance. “You’ve taken quite a spill, my friend,” he said, helping him to his feet with a strong grip. With a determined look in his eye, Tristan lifted Pembroke under the arm, guiding him toward his own horse. “You’ll ride with me. We need to get you back to the house.” Carefully, he hoisted Pembroke onto the saddle, ensuring he was secure before mounting behind him. With the hounds still barking in the distance and the thrill of the hunt lingering in the air, Tristan urged his horse forward, steadying Pembrokeagainst him as they made their way back. He did not want to leave the hunt, and his heart lurched a little as the sounds of chaos faded, but he knew that he had to do the right thing by his guest and ensure that he was safe and well back at the house. There would be other hunts, he thought glumly.
As Tristan guided his horse back toward the estate, the rhythmic sound of hooves echoed against the cobblestone path, blending with the distant chatter of guests gathered in the drawing room, the windows thrown open to let in the evening breeze.
His thoughts were a whirlwind of concern for Pembroke and the thrill of the hunt, but as they drew closer, he couldn’t shake the feeling of unease that settled in his chest. The sun was beginning to dip below the horizon, casting a warm glow over the grounds, but the vibrant colors did little to ease his mind. Upon entering the grand foyer, he was met with the sight of guests milling about, their laughter and conversation filling the air with an infectious energy. Yet, as he dismounted and stepped inside, he felt a sudden twinge of discomfort from the scratch on his own arm. He was not even sure how it had happened, amidst the chaos that he had just navigated but it was causing him pain now, and he was not sure how much longer he could ignore it. But getting Pembroke safely inside was his priority.
Tristan made his way inside, Pembroke’s limp form resting heavily against him. The laughter and chatter of the guests in the drawing room faded into a dull murmur as he navigated the polished marble floors, determined to finish the task of bringing Pembroke to safety. Then, and only then, would he think about himself.
Pembroke's earlier bravado had vanished; he was pale and visibly shaken, a stark contrast to the jovial man who had ridden into the woods just hours before. With each step, Tristan’s heart raced, not only from the exertion but from a growing concern for the man’s well-being.
Just as they reached the hallway, Pembroke's legs buckled, and he faltered, collapsing against the wall with a heavy thud. Tristan quickly adjusted his grip, cradling Pembroke's upper body to prevent him from falling completely. “Stay with me, Pembroke,” he urged, his voice low but firm, as he tried to ignore the surge of panic threading through him.
At that moment, the sound of hurried footsteps echoed behind them, and a few of the estate's servants rushed forward, their expressions turning from curiosity to alarm as they assessed the situation. “My Lord!” one of them exclaimed, dropping to his knees beside Pembroke, while another quickly fetched a blanket from a nearby chair. “What happened?”
“He fell from his horse,” Tristan explained. “He needs to be taken upstairs, and we need to get him a physician, as soon as possible.”
The servants sprang into action. They carefully lifted Pembroke, supporting him under the arms and legs. With a coordinated effort, they maneuvered him up from the floor, and Tristan stood back, his heart heavy as he watched them take charge. “Be gentle,” he cautioned. “He’s hurt.”
