“I know, my dear. I shall blame Dare.”
“Please do.” He managed to catch Georgiana’s eye as she sat opposite the dowager duchess. “I’ll see you shortly.”
He watched the coach down the drive and then went back inside to collect his coat and gloves. Bradshaw handed him his hat and settled his own navy tricorn on his dark hair.
“What was that all about?” his brother said in a quiet voice.
“What was what about?”
“You two. The hairs on my arms were prickling.”
Tristan shrugged. “Maybe it was the weather.”
“I wouldn’t want to be caught in that storm, then.”
His own coach pulled up, and he and Bradshaw climbed in. He’d tried to talk Edwina, at least, into joining them, but his aunt had refused. Georgie’s friend, Lucinda Barrett, had brought by the new kitten that afternoon, effectively forestalling his plan to enable Georgiana to share his coach.
It annoyed him, but neither could he argue with the happy light in Aunt Edwina’s eyes as she took possession of Dragon, which for some reason she’d become set on as the name of her new black cat. Tristan thought the little thing looked more like a rat, but he wasn’t about to say that aloud. Not when Georgiana had cuddled the ball of fur beneath her chin and cooed at it.
“The Runt said you went on a picnic yesterday.”
Tristan blinked. “Yes.”
“With Amelia Johns.”
“Yes.”
Bradshaw scowled at him. “You sound like Bit. How was your luncheon? In more than two words, please.”
“Very pleasant, thank you.”
“Bastard.”
“If I am, then you get to be the viscount and marry Miss Johns. That would be interesting.”
“Horrifying, more like.” Bradshaw crossed his ankles. “So you’ve settled on Miss Johns, then? Definitely?”
Tristan sighed. “She’s the most likely candidate. Wealthy, pretty, and obsessed with gaining a title.”
“A pity you and Georgiana don’t get on well. Or do you, now? All the inclement weather confuses me.”
“And why is that such a pity?” Tristan asked, mostly to hear what his brother would say. “She’s too tall, headstrong, and has a tongue like a rapier.” Of course, those were three of the things he liked most about her.
“Well, you’re looking for wealthy and pretty, and she certainly is that. Of course, her father’s a marquis, so she’s probably not hunting a title—though I can’t imagine her pursuing something like that, regardless.” He fiddled with his watch fob. “If Westbrook wasn’t after her, along with the money-starved horde, I might consider pursuing her myself. With her funding and influence, I’d make admiral by the time I was thirty-five.”
Westbrook, again. And no doubt he was already waiting for her at the ball, damn him. “You think it’s that easy, then? You decide, she says yes because, well, that’s what women are for, and you live happily ever after?”
Bradshaw looked at him. “Amelia turned you down?”
“I haven’t asked her, yet. I keep hoping…I don’t know. For a miracle, I suppose.”
“Don’t look for one where money’s concerned. Father was very thorough about spending every penny he could beg, borrow, or steal.”
Tristan sighed. “One must keep up appearances, you know.” That was the trickiest part—spending money he didn’t have to spare, so the family would look as though they did have some money.
“Don’t tell me you sympathize with him. Not after what his mess has put you through over the last four years. Is still putting you through.”
“I didn’t exactly help things while he was alive. I might have taken more of an interest in the properties.”
