“That would be lovely.”
Caroline set about it, but she wondered if Mr. Dennison would be in attendance tonight, if his cold had gone away, and if he would now be prepared to offer for her.
More troubling still, she could not fathom how she might bring herself to accept him.
Tristan had foundhimself at Jackson’s boxing saloon more often in the past week than he had all Season. There was no better place to expend the extra emotions plaguing him. Once he’d finished his last round, sweat beading on his brow and trailing down his temple, his chest heaving with exertion, Tristan felt well and truly tired—the things he went there for.
“Shepherd,” a man called as he toweled his face dry.
Tristan looked up to find James coming in his direction,dressed in a plain cotton shirt dampened with sweat. “You’re finished?”
“Yes.”
“I didn’t see you out there,” Tristan said.
James fell in beside him as they made their way toward the back room to change. “Mr. Hough agreed to go a few rounds with me.”
“Hough. Where do I know…ah. His wife is Lord Bengard’s sister?”
“The very one who was meant to be chaperoning my sister and her friend at Vauxhall. I do not blame Mr. Hough, but it felt good to knock him around a bit. He got in a good hit, as well.” James rubbed his jaw.
“How is Miss Fielding doing?”
James held the door to the changing room. “She has been to the house a few times since that evening and seems her usual self, but I think she is wary at present. I wish it was within my power to call out Bengard, but…” He shrugged, shaking his head in irritation.
Unless he was married to the woman or was her brother, it wasn’t his place to defend her honor in that way. Tristan could understand the desire to knock Bengard down a peg, but it was out of their hands. The man was grossly unrepentant. It was one thing to lure innocent young ladies to disreputable pleasure gardens, but it was another level of depravity to try and take advantage of them.
James seemed to move on. “I wonder if we shall see her tonight at Almack’s.”
“We?” Tristan pressed. “Does that include Caroline, or are you proclaiming my plans for the evening?”
“My sister,” James said with a little amusement. “She intends to join me at Almack’s and every ball we can scheme invitations to for the next few weeks. She has it in her head Iwill fall in love shortly if she can force me to attend enough balls.”
“I fell in love rather quickly,” Tristan said, before he could think better of it. He cleared his throat, avoiding James’s eyes. “What I mean to say is that it is not utterly impossible. A truer, deeper love will grow over time, but sometimes, you know early exactly how you feel about someone.”
“Especially if you have a previous friendship with the woman,” James added helpfully, a knowing look in his eye.
“Something like that.”
James shook his head ruefully, letting the matter drop. “I will see you tonight.”
Tristan agreed and took his time sliding on a clean shirt and tying his cravat. He considered what James had to say and the agreement he had made with Caroline. Perhaps he couldn’t marry her, but that did not mean they shouldn’t see one another. Half of their bargain included Caroline helping him find a wife.
He did not particularly want her help with that, but the prospect of spending more time with her was too tempting to ignore.
Rowan had given him hope, anyway. His wretched investment scheme was too lofty to even consider, but he was right—Tristan had yet to speak to his parents, to ask for their advice. They would know best how he should proceed in this situation. Mother, at least, had a particular interest in seeing him married.
Tristan considered the implications for the entire walk home, for if he was to draw his parents into his dilemma, he would have to accept whatever advice they gave him. Furthermore, there would probably be meddling.
Mother was a master meddler.
Tristan walked up Curzon Street and let himself into hishouse. He loved it here; the size and location were wonderful. He could imagine having a family in this home, taking his children to the nearby parks or enjoying a stroll through Bond Street with his wife, attending all manner of operas, plays, and musical entertainments. Vauxhall would be an entirely different experience once they were married…ifthey were married.
He sighed, taking himself off toward his desk to write the letter to his parents.
Caroline was worth fighting for.
Chapter Eighteen
