Dennison trailed behind them, shuffling to keep up. “Should we slow a little?”
Tristan ignored him, lowering his voice. “I would prefer tobe absolutely certain this is what you want before you allow your brother to sign any marriage contracts.”
“I know what I want, Tristan.”
“Do you?” he asked, curious. She spoke with such confidence. “What is that?”
“Marriage, children, security.”
“Reasonable things.” Tristan could understand her first two points, but the final one puzzled him. “Security?”
“Yes,” she said. “It is a strange notion where one can relax, knowing they don’t have to fear the workhouse.”
Tristan stopped as they came to a four-way intersection. Was that why she had gone out of her way to offer charity to her maid’s sister? “The workhouse?”
She glanced over her shoulder. “Have you any notion which way we should turn, Mr. Dennison? Your sense of direction is excellent.”
Had that been the case, they would not have remained in the maze for as long as they had.
“Right, I think,” Dennison said.
He’d been correct. Within two more turns directed by the man, they discovered the exit of the maze, which led Tristan to believe Dennison had an extraordinary sense of direction, indeed. Dennison must have been walking them in circles when it had been his turn to escort Caroline. Once the task had been taken over by Tristan, they were shortly free of the puzzle.
He would have been more annoyed, but he felt it well-played. If Dennison viewed him as a rival, that meant Tristan was doing his job well.
“Are you thirsty, Miss Whitby?” Dennison asked.
“Yes. I would love a glass of lemonade.”
Dennison bowed. “Allow me to fetch it at once.”
Caroline watched him stride away. “It would seem you have done your job too well, Tristan.”
Her voice had a strange quality to it. She did not seem as excited about this prospect as he imagined she should be.
“You could very likely have a proposal by the end of the evening,” he agreed. “And I don’t mean one put to you by a toad.”
Her blue eyes snapped to him. “I should thank you, I suppose.”
“Not until the task is complete, my dear.” He did not wish to receive her gratitude for something he did not fully support. There was a strange unpleasantness in his stomach, but he couldn’t credit why.
Caroline’s face brightened. “We must turn our attention to finding you a bride, you know. It will take all my effort to find a woman who can withstand your teasing.”
Yes. Because Tristan still needed to marry, even if it was not to the woman he would have liked to make his companion. Just a few weeks ago, he’d all but forgotten about Caroline Whitby. How the devil had she weaseled her way into his mind so fully in so short a time? He did not recall being so taken with her when they were younger.
Though, she had been younger than him, a girl who followed them around on occasion and not this beautiful woman. He’d teased her, but he hadn’t looked at her like a prospect.
Dennison returned with two glasses of lemonade and offered one of them to Caroline. He gave a look of triumph to Tristan, who knew it was time to retreat.
He bowed low. “Good afternoon. I see someone I need to speak to.”
They each bade him half-hearted farewells, and he strode off in search of Stanton and Hartley. If he could impress hislack of success on their minds, perhaps it would buy him more time to find a wife.
Caroline sipped her tart lemonade,watching Tristan walk away with a strange sense of loss. She shook the feeling away and turned the full breadth of her smile on Mr. Dennison.
“You have been so kind to entertain me this afternoon, Miss Whitby. I am grateful to call you a friend.”
Her glass stalled on the way to her lips, but she quickly recovered. “Indeed, I count you as one as well.”
