“The letter? Perhaps, but not likely. I daresay that was merely a convenient excuse.”
“And why would she want to sneak out?”
Her cheeks grew pink. “It certainly wouldn’t be to escape your witty chatter. If you leave now, I shan’t try to stop you.”
“You’ve said even less than I,” he observed, suddenly less eager to make his own escape. “And I haven’t even finished my tea.” He took a long sip, heedless of the taste but exquisitely alert to the way her eyes darkened as she watched him.
“I know why you’re here,” she said. “As honored as I am by your attention, please don’t think I expect you to inconvenience yourself merely for my amusement. My brother had no right to impose on you that way.”
“No, none at all.” He leaned forward and held out his cup. “May I have some sugar? I like my tea sweet.”
For a moment he thought she might throw the sugar at him, but she took a deep breath and dumped a heaping spoonful of sugar into his tea. Now it would taste vile. He sipped it anyway.
“Why did Douglas choose you, of all people, to thrust into my path?”
He shrugged. “His other friends were unsuitable.”
“More unsuitable than you?” she asked dryly.
“Far, far more,” he agreed, picturing the reprobates Bennet usually kept company with. “You should be flattered. He feared you would go into a decline, but knew that would be impossible if you had my escort.”
“Decline!” Her eyes sparked in irritation. “As if I needed your help, or his help—” She stopped, took a deep breath, and conjured up a coy smile that put him on guard. She leaned forward and lowered her voice. “Now that you mention it, there is one thing you might do that would greatly increase my enjoyment of these long, lonely days without my family near.”
“Oh?” he drawled. “What would that be?”
“There is a publication that brings me some enjoyment.” She was almost whispering now. “Would you get it for me?”
Ah. He leaned forward. “The same publication I had to put down your bodice?”
Her cheeks flushed but her smile grew wider. “Yes, the very same! Only you mustn’t do that again.”
“Very well, Miss Bennet. Shall we arrange a rendezvous at the Brentwood ball?”
“No,” she said hastily. “Perhaps you could come for tea again.”
“I don’t drink tea,” he murmured.
She looked at the teacup in his hand. “You do drink tea. Everyone drinks tea.”
Tristan grinned. “I hate tea. You must stop thinking I’m like your expectations of me. If you want your pamphlet, you must allow me some license in my mode of delivery.”
She pursed her lips, but nodded once. “Very well. As long as you don’t cause a scene.”
“The risk of a scene is greatly reduced when you cooperate.” How interesting. He was growing curious about this publication. And if it gave him something to put down her bodice again, so much the better. “What is this publication called? I forget.”
“Fifty Ways to Sin,” she whispered, casting an anxious eye at the door. “It is ... ah ... a ladies’ serial.”
“Only for ladies?”
“Well—I think only ladies read it.” She pursed her lips. “You’ll get it for me?”
He stared at the way her lips parted in eagerness. “If you like.”
“Yes!” She beamed at him. “I would like it, very much. Thank you.” She tilted her head. “Just how much attendance did Douglas make you promise?”
“A reasonable amount.”
“Such as dancing with me?”
