She gave a frustrated huff. “I cannot.”
“You are being unfair.”
“You are making this harder than it ought to be. We began this ruse as an effort to reinstate Mr. Dennison’s interest, did we not? That has been accomplished, and I am grateful for your assistance. Now I will set my mind to the task of finding a suitable woman for you.”
Shock hollowed his chest and pinged around his body. Had he misread the situation so egregiously?
The last thing Tristan was interested in at present was other suitable women. He wanted nothing more than to escape. He could run to the country, perhaps. Far away from London and Society and women who wanted nothing to do with him. Perhaps he would do exactly that.
Chapter Fifteen
The look on Tristan’s face yesterday in the park could have melted a candle into a pool of wax. Caroline hated making him feel like she did not care for him beyond friendship, that the moment they had shared together in Vauxhall Gardens was meaningless, but there was nothing to be done. Her family needed Dennison’s money.
Now it was up to her to find Tristan a bride who would make him happy and allow him to forget about her entirely. It was possible, of course. He was certainly not in love with her, even if he was developing feelings of a romantic nature.
He would heal from this disappointment.
Caroline wasn’t allowing herself to consider her own feelings on the matter yet, not when thoughts of him only brought deep disappointment. She had swallowed back a true explanation for her actions, certain it would do nothing to salve Tristan’s irritations. Instead, she had spent the remainder of their walk casting her mind about for women who might make Tristan a good wife.
Oddly, no one who came to mind seemed good enough.
She adjusted her dinner gloves and looked across the darkened carriage to where her mother was seated. James and Father had not been included on the invitation for the dinner party that evening, because the card had arrived before they did. Lady Tilbury would have likely welcomed them, but both men had opted to stay home, providing Caroline with an evening alone with her mother.
James’s meeting with the solicitor had brought no fortune. There was nothing to be done to save their finances except to find an influx of funds. Since James was having no luck securing a bride, Caroline’s future was set in stone.
Mama sighed heavily. “Lady Tilbury dropped a hint in my ear that Mr. Dennison has accepted her invitation to dine tonight.”
“Wonderful.” Caroline could not help but feel a low sense of dread whenever she was to be in his company. Somehow, the horse-talk had not felt like such a burden when she had been trying to secure his attention before. Now, it positively grated.
“You do not seem happy about this. Am I correct in assuming your affections have changed?”
If Mama had not yet been made aware of the state of their finances, Caroline did not wish to be the person to deliver that gruesome news. She fiddled with her glove again to direct her attention away from her mother. “Mr. Dennison is a steady and reliable man. If he was to offer for me, I would not refuse him.”
“That was not what I asked you, Caro.”
“Affections mean little when compared to the security of a reliable income. His father’s horse farm is more than dependable.”
“I know you are practical, but a lifetime with a man you do not love is no life at all.”
Love? She did not feel anything so strong for any man. The way her heart beat for Tristan would certainly not save their estate. Finding joy in his company would not fill the larder.
Caroline closed her eyes, pushing away the retorts springing to her tongue. When she felt her emotions were under control, she smiled to influence the tone of her voice. “Mr. Dennison is perfectly acceptable. I should be honored to receive a proposal from him.”
Mama was quiet, thoughtfully watching her. “Mr. Shepherd’s flowers were very nice.”
“Indeed.”
“He is also perfectly acceptable,” Mama said.
“But not quite as flush in the pocket.”
Mama clicked her tongue. “Practicality is all well and good, but when have you cared a jot for being rich?”
“It was a careless remark. Pay it no heed.” The carriage rolled to a stop and their footman let the step down. Mama left first, and Caroline stepped out afterwards. She lifted her hem to climb the stone steps to the front door, her mind on the man she should not have been thinking about.
Yet the moment she followed her mother into the drawing room, her eyes immediately fell upon Tristan, who was speaking with a handful of gentlemen. She recognized one of them as being Mr. Hartley from the garden party, but the other was unfamiliar to her.
Tristan glanced up and looked at her, his eyes raking over her face before his attention was drawn away again. He wore a dashing coat of emerald superfine, his white neckcloth bringing added definition to his jaw.
