He gave a slight scoff. “My inheritance has long ago dwindled to nothing. Father makes poor choices, and he is ruining our future prospects.”
“James,” she whispered. “When you told me you came home to find a wife, you were in earnest.”
“A rich wife would be ideal.” He rubbed a hand over his face. “I’m a blasted fortune-seeker. But what choice do I have? If we do not find funds soon, we’ll be forced to lose this house.”
Her throat grew dry. “Mama and I have already been economizing.”
“Which I am grateful for, but it is not enough.”
Caroline sunk into her chair, her fingers running over the ridged leather spine of her book. “What has Mama to say to all this?”
“I’d rather not worry her.”
“Yet you will worry me?”
His head tilted as he looked at her. “Mother doesn’t have the constitution for news such as this, as you are perfectly aware. Butyoumust be informed of the possibility. Until Father writes officially, however, you have no reason to continue on any differently from how you have been in regard to the gentlemen you were courting.”
“Gentleman,” she corrected. “A singular gentleman. Mr. Dennison, who has cut all acquaintance with me because he believed me to be deceiving him. I cannot, in good conscience, deceive him further.”
“Then refrain, but if you can do anything to secure the match with him, I suggest you do so.”
James didn’t need to remind her of the reasons she needed to marry soon. She had the ability to bring in money just as he did, and she was on her fourth Season. Her prospects had dwindled to one man who believed her to be a liar, and a toadish man who had only offered for her in order to win a wager. She wasn’told, but she was certainly edging nearer to the shelf with every passing day.
Caroline opened her book and ran her eyes over the title page, willing her mind to be distracted, but she could not remove James’s warning from her thoughts.
It was her steady companion for the rest of the day.
Chapter Seven
Charles and his wife had seemed perfectly in love, despite their rocky beginning. Tristan found he liked them together as a couple very much, and spending time with them increased his desire to find a wife he loved instead of searching to satisfy the wager.
Perhaps their mother was better suited to choosing a bride for her sons than Tristan had first given her credit for.
Still, he did not think he would test that theory for himself. Tristan had gone to his parents’ house in Dorking first and spent an evening hearing about all the eligible women Mother knew. He was tempted to mention he’d seen the Whitbys in Town, but since Caroline had no interest in him, he decided not to tease his mother. Charles had not been home anyway, so Tristan had been forced to travel to a cottage in Orpington to visit the newlyweds.
He had been gone from London longer than he’d originally intended, and when his tired horse entered the main roads in Town again, the evening fully dark and the cold air making a return for the night, he felt settled.
Tristan made his way toward Curzon Street and directed his horse into Berkeley Square to enjoy the park in the center of the houses.
It had nothing to do with a woman residing on that street, of course.
Just before reaching the square, a carriage pulled onto the road from the mews ahead of him. He slowed his horse, following the familiar-looking carriage until it drew up before the Whitbys’ door. A twinge of curiosity slithered through him. What did Caroline have planned for that evening? He wanted to know where she would be and who she was likely to be spending time with, but he also recognized he had no right to ask these questions. Or was it merely James leaving and his sister choosing to remain behind?
If Tristan happened to be there when they came outside, it would be a natural thing to ask. Would they find it odd if he was waiting? Tristan debated riding away before he was spotted.
The front door opened, causing yellow candlelight from the house to spill onto the step outside. Caroline appeared in the doorway and looked to him immediately, an expression passing over her face he could not read from so great a distance as the street.
“Have you come to be our outrider?” she asked, walking toward him.
“Are you traveling such a distance as to need one?”
“Just the Fairfields’ card party.” Caroline stood on the edge of the street looking up at him. She wore a cape over her evening gown, but her dark hair was styled as simply and perfectly as always. He wondered how soft it would be if he ran it through his fingers.
“Don’t let me keep you, then,” Tristan said, strangelyrelieved that her entertainment for the evening was focused on seeing her friend and not Dennison.
Caroline tipped her head to the side. “Did you need to speak to me? Or James?”
“I only just arrived back in Town and happened to fall in behind your coach. That is all.”
