Tristan felt his body stiffen. Lost everything? They hadnothing? And he had made her feel as though she was a fortune seeker. If what Lady Tilbury said was true, Caroline was only doing what she could to help her family. Tristan had made no secret of the state of his affairs.
In fact, he had just now, during dinner, reiterated why they could not be together. Not if she had lost her dowry.
He was a right fool.
“How is your mother?” Lady Tilbury asked. “I have missed her this year.”
Tristan’s throat went dry. “She is well.”
“I am glad to hear it.” Lady Tilbury looked at Tristan’s friends. “Your families are well, I hope? I heard you were recently married, Mr. Langford.”
“Yes.” He smiled. “Happily, in fact.”
“Glad I am to hear it. Next time, do bring your wife.” On those parting words, she left them to plague the next group.
“Where is Mrs. Langford?” Tristan asked.
“Home. I’m only in Town briefly for bank business.”Langford crossed his arms over his chest. “Now, what is this about the Whitbys losing their money?”
“I haven’t any idea.” Tristan frowned. The truth was that if Caroline’s dowry was gone, he did not know what they would live on if he could convince her to marry him. He could find some sort of employment, certainly, but it would take effort to put his mind to the task of discovering what he could do.
There was always horse breeding. He knew a fair bit about it, but it was an expensive endeavor.
He let out a frustrated sound.
“Things will come about all right,” Langford said.
Tristan nodded, but something uneasy within him could not quite believe those words.
The invitation tomeet his friend, Rowan Ashworth, at a small bookshop twelve miles outside of London had come at a fortuitous time. Just as Tristan was plotting a possible return to Surrey to lick his wounds and discern what he could potentially do to create an income, he opened a letter from Rowan inviting him out for the afternoon in four days’ time. He accepted, and when the day came, saddled his horse and wore his most comfortable riding coat, a deep brown wool with decent movement in the shoulders.
The clouds were overcast, low and gray, nipping a chilly wind over his exposed bits of skin. The weather was too cold for this late into spring. It was bound to rain on him at some point during his ride, but at present, he found he did not overly care. The fresh air was doing wonders for his mood.
Rowan was waiting inside when Tristan arrived. He’d stabled his horse at the White Hart and left him to drinkwater and rest. Rain began to fall as Tristan let himself into the small bookshop and found his friend browsing the titles on the far wall. Rowan was forever searching for old, rare things like Shakespeare’s original folios, and Tristan would lay odds that was why they were there.
“Rowan,” he said, clapping the man on the back. “Find anything dusty and difficult to read?”
Rowan shot him a wry smile. “You know very well my books aren’tdusty. I take rather good care of them.”
“I take your empty hands to mean the answer is no.”
“It was a long shot, but my man of business heard there might be something of interest here. Turns out, it had been purchased well over a month ago.”
“Rotten luck.”
Rowan shrugged. “I never refuse a trip to a bookshop or an afternoon with a friend.”
“Anything to put off doing your duty by Miss Delafield?” Tristan quipped. “You’ve only been promised to one another for a decade.”
“More like two decades. Shall we retire to the White Hart? The clerk here told me their pie is worth the blunt.”
“Avoiding the topic of Miss Delafield, I see,” Tristan said.
“I’m a hungry man.”
“Not for her company, I take it.”
Rowan scrubbed a hand over his face. “You know very well I will hold to my word. But only three of us have married now. I have time.”
