She remained silent until dinner was over and the women rose to return to the drawing room. Tristan watched her go, the heat of awareness searing her back, but she did not turn to look at him. Keeping her head high, she located her mother the moment she reached the drawing room. “Might we leave early? I am beginning to feel unwell.”
Mama frowned. “You look pale, darling. What is it?”
“I’m not sure, but I don’t feel at all the thing.”
“Of course. Let me speak to Lady Tilbury so she doesn’t feel slighted. I’ll only be a moment.”
Caroline nodded. If some little part of her had held out hope that Tristan would fight for her, she now realized it would be fruitless. Even if her family didn’t need Dennison’s money, she couldn’t be with Tristan unless they wished to be poor. She would not burden him with a life of unease, wondering how to pay for new boots or whether they could afford to feed their children. He deserved better. He deserved an easier life.
And by stepping back, Caroline would give that to him.
Chapter Sixteen
Tristan searched for Caroline when he entered the drawing room later that evening, but neither she nor her mother were anywhere to be seen. Frustration bubbled within him. She could not tell him her circumstances had changed and refuse to provide a better explanation.
“Why does Tristan look as though we’ve taken away his favorite horse?” Langford asked.
Ambrose made a thoughtful sound. “Probably has something to do with Miss Whitby’s absence.”
Langford gave Tristan a considering look. “You are in love?”
Was he? Tristan had certainly been developing feelings for Caroline. The idea of not being with her was like a searing pain through his chest.
“Heisin love,” Ambrose said, in his steady, deep voice. “I’ve never seen him look at a woman like he looks at her.”
“He has looked at a lot of women,” Langford conceded. “Are you certain?”
“Relatively so.”
“Quiet, both of you.” Tristan ran a hand down his face, certain Caroline had left. “It hardly matters. She won’t have me.”
“You’re too much of a flirt for her?” Langford asked with an impish smile.
“Nothing of the sort.” He hadn’t been much of a flirt since…when was the last time he’d looked at someone besides Caroline? “I don’t have enough money.”
Both of his friends cringed.
“Something has changed?—”
“Good evening, gentlemen,” Lady Tilbury said, approaching the men so quietly, Tristan was unsure how much she had overheard. “Given your close acquaintance with the Whitbys, I considered it only right to inform you that Miss Whitby has developed a trifling headache, and they were forced to depart early. I’m certain youmustbe wondering where she is, so I thought to relieve your curiosity.”
On the one hand, Tristan was grateful for the information. On the other, he was irritated with the meddling. “Thank you, my lady.”
“It is no bother of mine. Of course, I would sooner see your names stated together in the papers, but one cannot have everything they wish for.”
Indeed. One could not. Tristan gave his hostess a grateful smile. “You are kind to deliver the information.”
“It is notkindnesswhich compels me,” she said. “You must know I would do whatever I could to help that family. Though, short of turning back the clock, I’m not sure how I can be of assistance.”
“Turning back the clock?” Tristan repeated. “What do you mean?”
“Surely you already know.” Her eyes widened, and she leaned in, clearly relishing delivering her gossip.
Tristan felt he should stop her, but he needed to know what had changed Caroline’s mind.
“I do not,” he said.
“They’ve lost everything,” Lady Tilbury whispered. “Mr. Humphries heard it from James directly. Mr. Whitby has put everything they have into various schemes, including Caroline’s dowry, and lost it all. They’re being forced to retrench. I wonder at it they have not left London yet to retire to Surrey. I dare say they will be leaving soon. One can only remake the same gown so many times before it grows tiresome.”
