“Good luck with that,” Diana said, crossing her arms. She had regained her poise, it seemed, and her eyes were flashing with defiance, her gaze unwavering. “Now, enough of this.”
“Diana, wait!” Grace protested, glancing between them, her expression one of confusion.
“Now, Grace,” Diana insisted, her tone leaving no room for argument. “We’re leaving.”
Tristan watched as Diana pulled her sister away. She threw one last glare in his direction, before hurrying away across the ballroom, almost dragging her sister along with her. The tension in the air lingered long after they had vanished into the crowd. Lady Grace clearly had been captivated by his charms, and that was no surprise, but it was her sister who remained in his mind, long after the pair of them had disappeared from his sight.
“Well,” he muttered to himself, a smile creeping onto his lips, “that was rather entertaining.”
He went over to the refreshment table to fetch some punch, then looked around the room, wondering where he could seek outamusement next. But no matter how hard he tried, he could not stop thinking about those flashing eyes. Lady Diana Kingsman had left an impression on him. She seemed quite different from the rather bland and uninteresting lady he had met at his brother’s wedding party. Her sister was beautiful, yes, and she would make the perfect duchess, but it was Diana who lingered in his mind as the evening continued.
The morning sun streamed through the window of Tristan’s dressing room. He adjusted his cravat in the mirror, preparing to leave for the day, when there was a sharp tap at the door. Hoxley, his manservant, entered.
“My Lord, the Dowager Countess of Silvermere is here,” he announced. “She is waiting for you in the drawing room.”
Tristan frowned and glanced at the clock on the mantlepiece. He was always happy to see his grandmother, but he had plans this morning and he did not want to be late. He knew his duty, though; his plans would just have to wait.
He made his way downstairs and entered the drawing room, where his grandmother was sitting comfortably on the chaise, a cup of tea in her hands.
“Tristan, my dear!” she said, her voice warm but slightly quavering. She was a petite woman, with a cascade of silver hair elegantly pinned atop her head, and as he looked at her, Tristanreflected that she still had an air of timeless charm about her. He was glad that she had come to call, after all.
“Grandmama,” he replied, stopping to kiss her papery cheek. “What a pleasure it is to see you this morning.”
“I hope I am not keeping you form important business?” she said
“No, indeed,” he replied, shaking his head. “What could be more important than spending time with you?”
“I was wondering how you enjoyed the ball last night,” she said, looking up at him with bright, inquisitive eyes.
Tristan let out a chuckle. “Ah, I thought it might be something like this that you wanted to discuss.”
She smiled. “You know, Tristan, I am worried about you. You are not getting any younger, and you need to find a wife.”
“Grandmama, please, let’s not have this conversation again.” He smiled as he spoke, but he felt a hint of frustration beginning to simmer within him.
“But I am sure we have not had it before?” she replied, her brow furrowing in concentration as if trying to recall something particularly complex.
“We have, but no matter,” Tristan said softly. They had this same conversation every week, but he had come to expect it, and in truth, his grandmother’s concern for his wellbeing warmed his heart, even if the specific direction that the conversation always took had become rather wearing.
“Tristan, do you not want to fall in love?” She looked at him rather intensely as she spoke.
He laughed. “I do not think of it in the same way as you do.”
“But I had such a grand love match, my darling, and I want the same for you!” Lady Everton’s eyes took on a misty hue as she seemed to go back in time in her mind, to her younger days. “Your grandfather and I met at a ball, you know. I am sure I have never told you the story.”
“Many times, Grandmama, you have told me that story,” Tristan replied with a wry smile. He glanced again at the clock. On any other day, he would have been happy to sit and listen to her reminisce, and tell him the same old stories that she had repeated many times, but today, he needed to be on his way.
“And your parents too!” she went on. “Did I ever tell you how they met? They were truly blessed to have found each other. Although your father was a terrible dancer, and that nearly put an end to all of it!”
“Grandmama, you must forgive me, but I do have some pressing business this morning. Perhaps you can tell me another time?” He smiled at her kindly, always happy to humor her despite theway that she repeated herself. Could she really not remember that she had told him these same stories many times? Or was it simply a comfort to her, to repeat them over and over again? Still, his grandmother was old now and she had always been there for him. He would always indulge her flights of fancy.
“Tell me your plans for the day, my dear,” she asked. “I do love to hear what you young people get up to.”
“Well, you will be pleased to hear that I did meet a young lady at the ball last night,” he said.
“Did you?” Lady Everton’s eyes sparkled with curiosity. “Who is she? Is she from a good family?”
“Yes, yes, she’s from a very respectable family,” Tristan said, his tone light, although his heart felt heavier with each word. “I’m actually on my way to visit her now.”
