“Fine?” Cecilia echoed, her brows knitting together. “You do not look in the least bit fine. You look like you’ve seen a ghost. Where have you been all day? The servants could not tell us anything, only that you had ridden out alone early this morning, without telling anyone where you were going. Did it not occur to you that we would be worried about you?”
“Please, Cecilia,” he said, irritation creeping into his voice at his sister’s tirade of accusations and questions. “I don’t want to discuss it.” He wished, as he took a sip of whiskey and enjoyed the sensation of the heat coursing down his throat, that he had stuck to his original plan and gone straight upstairs, so that he could have avoided this interrogation from Cecilia. He suddenly felt tired, far too tired to be dealing with all this now.
Alistair, ever the calm mediator, interjected. “Perhaps you should talk about it, Tristan. Holding in your feelings won’t do you any good. You might feel better if you tell us what’s happened?”
Tristan shot him a withering glance. “And what would you know about it?” he snapped, the anger he had tried to contain now spilling over. “You have never faced rejection like this.”
“Rejection? What are you talking about?” Alistair asked, confused.
Tristan swallowed. He would have to tell them sooner or later, he supposed. After all, everyone would be expecting an announcement soon, followed by a wedding. It was better to disappoint them now, rather than letting the whole thing continue as if nothing had happened. “I went to see Lady Grace,” he said, through gritted teeth. “I was going to propose to her, but she told me that she wanted to end our courtship. She said she was not in love with me and that we should not marry. To say that I was shocked would be something of an understatement.”
Cecilia crossed her arms, her expression shifting from surprise to one of frustration. “Well, I can see that you’re upset, but I’m sure Grace has her reasons for rejecting you. You can’t just dismiss her feelings. It’s not as if you can force her to marry you if she doesn’t want to.”
“I know that I can’t force her to marry me! But maybe I don’t want to hear about Grace’s feelings right now!” he retorted,slamming his glass down on the table, the sound reverberating through the room.
Cecilia took a step back, her eyes widening. “Tristan, this isn’t like you. You’re acting as if - ”
“Acting as if what?” he interrupted, the heat of his anger rising. “As if I care? As if this doesn’t matter? It matters, Cecilia! It matters a great deal!”
“Fine!” she shot back, her voice rising with agitation. “If you want to sulk in your misery, go ahead! But don’t expect me to sit here and watch you wallow like a petulant child!”
“Cecilia, please - ” Alistair began, but she cut him off.
“Perhaps it’s my own fault for caring what happens to my brother!” she exclaimed, her voice trembling with emotion. “I should have known better. I thought I could help, but clearly, you don’t want it!”
With that, she turned on her heel and stormed out of the room, leaving Tristan and Alistair sitting in uncomfortable silence. The tension hung thickly in the air, and Tristan felt guilty and frustrated all at once. He hadn’t intended to lash out at Cecilia; he was simply overwhelmed. And it wasn’t all about Grace, as well he knew, but he did not feel ready to talk about anything else now. Perhaps he never would be, in fact.
Alistair remained seated, his expression thoughtful. “You should go after her and apologize,” he suggested quietly. “She’s only trying to help, because she cares about you.”
Tristan sighed, pouring himself another drink. “I don’t want to talk about it, Alistair. Not now.”
“Then let me ask you something,” Alistair replied, leaning forward slightly, his tone shifting to one of seriousness. “What is it about this whole situation that has got you so agitated? It is clear to me that this is about more than Grace saying she did not want to marry you. You didn’t really love her, after all. Everyone could see that.”
“Come on, Alistair!” Tristan replied hotly. “I was going to propose to her, and she wouldn’t even let me speak. She has made a fool of me. Everyone has been expecting us to marry, and now we will be the topic of the gossip on everyone’s lips all over town!”
Even as he spoke the words, and threw himself back down in his chair, he knew that he didn’t really care about the gossip at all. It was just as Grace had said; no one would be interested in a few days. And perhaps Alistair was right, too; maybe anyone who knew him well would have been able to tell that he and Grace were not in love. But talking about this meant that he wouldn’t have to talk about anything else, so he waited for Alistair to respond, twirling his glass in his hand and watching the amber liquid swirling around like a whirlpool.
“I do not think that it is Grace you are really upset about,” Alistair ventured. “Did you see Diana while you were there?”
Tristan flinched at the mention of her name, a wave of conflicting emotions washing over him. He didn’t want to think about Diana, not now.
“She was not there,” Tristan said quietly. He hoped that it would close off the conversation and Alistair would change the subject, but he could tell from the look on his friend’s face that this was not going to be the end of the matter.
“I have seen the way that you look at Diana,” Alistair said, a hint of trepidation in his voice.
Tristan stared at his friend. Perhaps he had worked it out. Maybe his feelings for Diana were clearer to others than he had realized; perhaps others could tell how she lingered in his thoughts. That knowledge felt like a weight on Tristan’s chest, and he did not want to admit to it, not yet.
Instead, he allowed himself to get angry again. “Why do you care?” he snapped defensively at Alistair. “You have your own marriage to think about. Surely that is enough to keep you busy? Why are you all so interested in me and my life?”
Alistair raised an eyebrow, undeterred. “You are being deliberately obtuse, my friend. I care because I know what it’s like to struggle with feelings for someone you think that you can’t have. I struggled with my own feelings for Cecilia for far too long.”
Tristan let out a bitter laugh. The sound was hollow and devoid of humor. “And what good did that do you? You had to fight for her, and even then, it was fraught with complications. I can’t love the woman I’m going to marry. It is all too complicated. It was supposed to be a simple arrangement with Grace, a marriage of convenience, nothing more. I thought that she understood that, too. But now, all of that has fallen apart.”
“But you do love Diana,” Alistair retorted, his voice steady, but firm. “You can’t deny that.”
Tristan shook his head. The truth of what Alistair said gnawed at him. Perhaps it was time to face up to things at last. But even as he thought it, he knew that he could not give in to his feelings. “I can’t live with the thought of losing her, Alistair. I’ve seen what that loss looks like. I’ve felt it, when my parents died. I won’t risk it. I won’t allow myself to feel those feelings for anyone. It’s unbearable. I can’t face it.”
Alistair regarded him sympathetically, but there was a hint of a challenge in his eye. “But can you live knowing Diana is married to another? Really and truly, Tristan, what you need to ask yourself is whether you can live without seeing her ever again?”
