Her smile grew. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance, sir. You must have called upon my niece.”
For some reason Tristan felt his neck grow warm. He tried to quell it; he’d done nothing wrong. He hadn’t touched Miss Bennet, let alone ravished her. He’d only come because Bennet tricked him into promising to do it. “At her brother’s request. He bade me inquire after her health and contentment while he is out of town.”
“Contentment!” Her eyebrows went up a fraction. “How very good of you. And did you find her contented?”
He cleared his throat, wondering what the Fury would say. She’d seemed well enough when he arrived. “Tolerably well, ma’am.”
“Excellent.” Lady Courtenay was laughing at him, he could tell. He fought back the urge to scowl. “I hope she will remain so. I’ve taken her under my wing in her parents’ absence, as my nephew might have told you. I plan to see that she goes out often, to keep her mind diverted from worry.” She paused. “Perhaps you will come to tea.”
Damn it. “Perhaps,” he said, already crafting an excuse. He hated tea.
“Lovely.” She smiled again. “I do so look forward to becoming acquainted with my niece’s and nephew’s companions. You would be very welcome the day after tomorrow.”
His mind blanked. “Er.” He coughed. “What?”
“The day after tomorrow,” she repeated. “If you intend to squire my niece about, you must come to tea first. Good day, Lord Burke; until then.”
“But ...” His voice trailed off as she bowed her head, still smiling, only now that expression looked wily and satisfied. He cleared his throat yet again, knowing when he was beaten. “Indeed. Good day, Lady Courtenay.”
“Good day, Lord Burke.”
Tristan beat a hasty retreat. He couldn’t leave the house fast enough. God help him; now there were two Furies to contend with.
Chapter 12
Joan hardly knew what to think when Tristan Burke left after threatening to kiss her again. “Threaten” was definitely the proper word for it. The wretched man seemed to know how much the first kiss had unnerved her. What was wrong with him, wanting to kiss a woman just to fluster her? And what was wrong with her, that she allowed it to fluster her? It was because he was a rake, she decided, who probably thought he could kiss any woman in the world and she would swoon at his feet. It meant nothing to him, and should mean nothing to her—except, she consoled herself, that it was a valuable lesson from a reputed master. When she was finally kissed by a respectable man with honorable intentions, she would be glad of a little knowledge. Yes, that was the proper way to view it. It had nothing to do with her, or with him; it was about planning for future, more romantic, encounters with true gentlemen.
And Douglas, setting that man on her! He had to know his friend’s reputation. Douglas, in fact, had probably been present for most of its wicked formation. She didn’t know what her brother had been thinking. He knew Mother didn’t approve of Lord Burke.
Of course, Mother wasn’t here. And it didn’t seem as though Evangeline would protest Joan spending time with him—or with any other gentleman, not that any others had come to announce their intention of escorting her about town. She wondered why he had agreed to it, and then she said a small prayer that his attentions, whatever they might be, wouldn’t cause her any trouble.
She gave herself a shake and strode back toward the dressing room where she’d been happily sampling Evangeline’s bonnet collection before he arrived, only to meet her aunt coming up the stairs.
“Shall we go see Federico now?” Evangeline looked rather pleased about something. “I couldn’t wait—I sent off a note warning him we may call on him this very afternoon. If we order some gowns today, they should be ready within a week. I’ve a feeling we shall want to go out more.”
“Oh, yes.” Quickly Joan banished the infuriating Lord Burke from her thoughts. She was desperately curious to meet the creator of Evangeline’s wardrobe. Today her aunt wore a dress whose bodice looked more like a man’s shirt than a woman’s dress, with a collar and loose sleeves. It was nothing like the dress Joan wore, but it looked comfortable, and even more important, it didn’t make her look like an umbrella. “Let me get my bonnet.”
“You mustn’t be put off by Federico’s manner,” said Evangeline when they were in the carriage. “He routinely runs roughshod over my every suggestion, but in the end his judgment is impeccable.”
“Of course.” Evangeline had been fortunate enough to find someone who knew how to flatter her figure. Joan ... well, Joan knew her mother meant well, just as she also knew that all of Mother’s carefully chosen designs never quite looked as elegant on her as they did in the illustrations. She was tired of trying to conceal her figure with tight stays. She had given up hope of looking elegant in the latest fashions. She was tired of sitting for an hour while Janet curled her hair into a style that only made her look taller and plumper. If Mr. Salvatore could produce a gown,anygown, that made her look attractive, Joan would wear it even if it caused a minor scandal. And that would teach Lord Boor to call her an umbrella, wouldn’t it?
“Does Viscount Burke call upon you frequently?”
“Er.” Joan gave a guilty start at the unexpected question. “You saw him?”
“Yes.” Evangeline just waited, but her keen gaze brought a blush to Joan’s cheeks.
“Oh.” She cleared her throat. “Yes. Well, you see, he’s a friend of Douglas’s, and ... and ... and he came to express his good wishes for Mother’s recovery.” For some reason, a blithely innocent story was not coming to mind. She kept hearing him saying he could kiss her and make her like it—as if he hadn’t already done so.
“How kind of him. He gets on well with your mother, then?”
Joan fiddled with her glove, thinking frantically. If she were truthful, Evangeline would probably send Lord Burke on his way without further ado. No doubt Papa had extracted a vow of good behavior from Evangeline as well. Her promise to her father most likely required that she admit to her aunt how much Mother disliked and disapproved of Lord Burke.
But for reasons she didn’t like to examine, she didn’t want to do that.
“I don’t think he’s terribly well acquainted with Mother,” she said, hoping lightning wouldn’t strike her for that understatement. “But he’s been friends with Douglas for ages, and no doubt he called merely to be polite.”
“He told me Douglas asked him to look out for you. As a surrogate brother.”
