Why couldn’t James accept Kitty’s affection and value that over his pride?
Tristan inhaled sharply.
Was his situation so different? Hadn’t Rowan brought up love as though it held its own weight when they had talked in the inn? Surely, if he and Caroline cared so deeply for each other, they could choose their relationship over pride. He had a home, after all. There would be some money, surely. His quarterly allowance was not enough to support a family, but it was a start.
Tristan knew Caroline felt something for him. He needed to value that over his pride.
“Shall we take a hackney home?” James asked.
“Probably ought to.”
They flagged down a hack and climbed inside after providing their direction. James let him off at his house before continuing to Berkeley Square. Tristan trudged up his steps as the rain descended. It was all very well for him to decide to choose Caroline despite his financial situation, but how to convinceherof that?
Miller opened the door for him and took his coat. Voicessounded upstairs, causing Tristan to grow still. He cocked his ear toward the drawing room, but could not make out who was speaking.
“Do I have visitors, Miller?” Tristan asked.
“In a manner of speaking,” the butler said.
“What the devil does that mean?”
Miller cleared his throat. “Mr. and Mrs. Shepherd have arrived, sir.”
Just then, Mother’s joyous laugh rang out in the drawing room, echoing through the corridor. Tristan’s body simultaneously filled with joy and dread. He adored his parents; seeing them always brought him great satisfaction. Though Mother had one goal in life: to see her sons married. There was a measure of stress added to every interaction because of that.
Oh, how freeing it would be once he finally married and she could move on to other goals. But, knowing her, all the energy that went toward matchmaking would transition to a campaign for grandchildren.
Tristan chuckled softly to himself as he made his way up the stairs. He removed his hat, handing it to Miller, and pushed the drawing room door the rest of the way open.
Mother stood near the table, looking through a handful of playing cards, while Father sat on a ladder-back chair, smiling at her as though she had shared a humorous thought. Tristan remained in the doorway for a few beats of the clock, but it felt like far longer. His parents loved each other deeply, as was apparent to anyone who watched them together. It was something Tristan wanted for himself.
It was something he knew he could have with Caroline. She did not care for expensive gowns or lavish parties. She would be satisfied with him. His heart told him it was so.
Mother glanced toward Tristan and startled, her hands going in the air. “Oh!”
Playing cards flew everywhere.
“Tristan!” Mother said, coming toward him with her arms outstretched, heedless of the mess she had made. “We packed our trunks the moment we received your letter. How good it feels to see you.”
“Hello, Mother.” He accepted her hug and his father’s handshake, then set about picking up the cards. He had written asking foradvice. “I didn’t expect you to come to London.”
“We decided a surprise visit was in order. It has been ages since we’ve been to Town during the Season.”
Tristan was no simpleton—they did not come here for the balls. He smiled anyway.
“Charles and Marie deserve some time together without us forever standing over their shoulder, too,” Father said.
“How are the newlyweds?”
“Wonderful, as you would expect.” Father’s eyes twinkled. “I have never seen Charles happier.”
That sent a warm feeling through his body. He was pleased his brother had found true joy in marriage.
Mother clapped her hands together. “You could be next. Have you met anyone who has interested you?”
Well, notthathappy. Silence was his best course of action. He stood, taking the other half of the cards from his father and putting them together on the game table.
“You have,” Mother said, following him toward the seats.
