He ignored the taunt, attention returning to Lavinia, who was now deep in conversation with Nancy Rowson. At the far end of the pavilion, Lady Montfort’s turban bobbed above the crowd, her neck craned in their direction as if she could will the matchmaking gods to intervene.
Moira’s voice dropped. “You’ll need an heir eventually, Tristan.”
He stiffened. “I do not care about having an heir,” he said. “The title can rot for all I care.”
She was silent for a moment, the breeze lifting a stray tendril of hair against her cheek. “Is that why you won’t remarry? Or is it because you promised yourself you never would?”
He turned sharply, forcing her to step back. “I will never marry again. Not for duty, not for money, and certainly not because the world expects it. Is that clear?”
Moira’s eyes searched his face, and for an instant, he almost expected her to press further. But instead, she reached out and patted his shoulder, gentle as a benediction.
“Crystal,” she said. “But I don’t think you believe it any more than I do.”
He did not answer. His own words rang in his ears, louder and more final than he’d intended.
He looked up, and across the sweep of lawn, Lavinia met his gaze. She did not look away, and the moment hung, as bright and cutting as a diamond in sunlight. Then she inclined her head, just enough to be a challenge.
Returning the gesture with a curt nod, he strode away, leaving Moira and her unanswered questions behind him.
But even as he left the party, the ghost of Lady Lavinia’s challenge burned itself behind his eyes, and he knew it would be a long, sleepless night at Evermere Hall.
In the carriage, Tristan sat alone as the image of her replayed itself, relentless. Why did he care? What place did Lady Lavinia have in his life to warrant so much thought?
As if to answer, Moira’s words returned.If you’re so concerned for Lady Lavinia’s welfare, perhaps you ought to do more than pace at the edge of the lawn like a housecat left out in the rain.
He mentally calculated the price of Lavinia’s freedom. How much to buy her estate, to erase the debts, to see her and her sister established? Less than the interest on his timber holdings. A trifle.
If he married her, the solution was instantaneous. Her worries would be gone, her sister’s dowry restored, and her pride intact. He could place her at the head of any table in England, and no one would dare whisper “genteel poverty.” The power of a dukedom was absolute. And yet?—
He could not do it. He would not. The vow was like an iron vice around him.
Tristan would do nothing. It was the only way.
CHAPTER 16
“Itell you, the woman is relentless,” Tristan said as he paced the length of Henry’s billiard room. “Lady Montfort is bent on seeing her nieces married off, and she means to use every lever at her disposal, including, apparently, me.”
Henry straightened and chalked his cue, then surveyed the table as if what Tristan had said was ordinary. “It is the natural state of the world, Tristan. Women seek husbands, men seek to avoid being trapped. The universe is in balance.”
“She is not even subtle about it,” Tristan pressed on, ignoring the jest. “I cannot set foot at any gathering without being forced to endure some tedious female accomplishment. Yesterday at the garden party was no different.”
“I heard Dawnford was there.” Henry lined up another shot, frowned, and let it go.
Tristan’s teeth snapped together audibly. “Dawnford was everywhere. Like a parasite, he latched onto Lady Lavinia from the moment she arrived.”
“She is a grown woman,” Henry observed, making a clean shot. “And not your responsibility. Unless there is something you have not told me.”
“Of course, there is nothing,” Tristan said, coming to a halt at the end of the room. “But I have a duty to Sophia. If her tutor is compromised by some scoundrel?—”
“You could simply fire her,” Henry interrupted, taking a drink from the sideboard without bothering to offer one to Tristan. “You are a Duke. Dukes can do anything, short of murder, and even then, only if it is not a peer.”
Tristan ran a hand through his hair. “It would upset Sophia. She is more attached to Lady Lavinia and dismissing her now would undo significant progress.”
“Then let her be courted,” Henry suggested, making another shot. “If the prospect of a marriage to Dawnford so horrifies you, perhaps you should offer for her yourself.”
“Do not be ridiculous,” Tristan snapped, turning so sharply his boots scuffed the Turkish carpet. “It is the very last thing I would do. The entire point of hiring a governess was to avoid these sorts of entanglements.”
“Yet here you are,” Henry said, sinking another ball with a perfect bank shot, “entangled.”
