“Unlike men’s.” She sighed. “What should I do?”
Evangeline glanced at Lady Bennet, who was reading a letter, before she, too, lowered her voice to a whisper. “What does your heart tell you to do?”
“It would be easier to answer if I knew whathisheart felt.”
“Wouldn’t it?” Evangeline put her hands on Joan’s shoulders. “I did my best to explain everything to your parents. I sincerely believe Lord Burke meant—means—to treat you honorably. I have known many rakes and rogues in my day, and he doesn’t fit their mold. Only if one believed him devoid of human feeling and sensibility could his actions be explained in a dishonorable way. It would be extremely foolish of him to think he could abuse your reputation and walk away unscathed. For one thing, you have a father and a brother who show no signs of sitting idly by and letting you be ruined.”
“But wouldn’t it be awful for Papa to force him to marry me if he doesn’t wish to?” Joan frowned at the thought.
“Why? You love him. He obviously finds you attractive and intriguing. I assure you, there are worse beginnings for a marriage.”
“But I want to be loved,” she whispered in longing.
“Don’t abandon hope of it yet!” Her aunt gave her a wry smile. “Perhaps he already loves you; I wouldn’t be surprised at all if he did. Men don’t always blurt it out, you know. And some of them take a fearfully long time to acknowledge it is love they feel.”
That made some sense. Papa admitted he loved Mother, but there was no reason to hide it, after thirty years of marriage. Douglas, though, would deny the truth until it slapped him in the face. Joan expected her brother would fight the emotion every inch of the way, but she also expected he would love his wife simply because he was very like their father in most other ways. Tristan was every bit as stubborn as Douglas, but he hadn’t been raised with the example of loving parents. Of course it might take him longer to admit his feelings—presuming he did, in fact, love her as Evangeline said.
“Thank you, Evangeline,” she said fervently. “For coming to chaperone me, for taking me to Mr. Salvatore, for lending me your white shoes, and—and for everything else.”
Her aunt smiled, some of the usual light reappearing in her eyes. “It has been very much my pleasure, Joan.”
A sharp exclamation from the other side of the room made them both look up. Lady Bennet had one hand clapped to her bosom, and her face was white. The letter in her hand trembled. Slowly she raised stricken eyes to them.
“You lied to me.”
Joan froze. She didn’t dare look at her aunt, since it wasn’t clear which of them her mother meant. “What?”
Lady Bennet held up her letter. Joan said a silent curse on her mother’s many prolific correspondents. “You disappeared from the Brentwood ball with Lord Burke last night and weren’t seen again.”
“I made her come home,” Evangeline said quickly, but with a faint note of alarm in her voice. “I felt a headache—”
“And you were remarked searching the house for Joan!” Mother’s eyes flashed. “Where did you go, young lady?”
She thought wildly. “Just out for a breath of fresh air ...”
Her mother slashed one hand through the air in patent disbelief. “And you couldn’t go with one of the Weston girls? Or with your aunt? Or with a maid?”
“They ... ah ... they weren’t nearby ...”
Lady Bennet shook her head, looking amazed and furious at the same time. “Lord Burke’s absence at the same time was also noticed—in fact, the last anyone saw of either of you was when you were waltzing with him, indecently close!” She threw off the shawl covering her legs and rose to her feet. “Can you tell me that nothing improper happened last night? Nothing I would find objectionable? Can you swear it, Joan?”
A quick glance at her aunt told her Evangeline couldn’t help her anymore. She was doomed. She hadn’t expected to escape unscathed, but another few days, perhaps, would have allowed her some time to discover what Tristan intended. Evangeline had said everything would be cured by a marriage proposal ... but now it was too late.
Mother’s jaw tightened at her prolonged, guilty, silence. “He means to be honorable and reform his ways,” she said acidly, throwing Joan’s own words back at her. “When is this transformation to begin? It certainly won’t come in time to save you from a storm of gossip! Did you not think this worthy of mention when you were defending his motives and upbringing, and casting all your actions in a virtuous light?”
She shifted miserably. “Not really, no.”
“Well, I hope you do now. Your father will have to see to him—and I pray it doesn’t lead to bloodshed.” Her mother’s voice broke as she stared at Joan in bitter disappointment. “Oh, Joan, what have you done?”
Chapter 26
Agreat many things became clear to Tristan the morning after the Brentwood ball.
First, he had to get his house finished. For the first time he was a little sorry he’d drawn up such a long list of improvements. They were all worth the cost, in his opinion, but they had added tremendously to the time it would take to have the house ready, and that was now a problem. He went to Hanover Square early in the morning and walked through the house, finding fault everywhere. There needed to be more plasterers. More painters. The woodwork in the dining room simply had to be replaced. The plumbing was done and the roof was once more solid, but the heating system wasn’t operational. The kitchens were still firmly rooted in the early part of the eighteenth century, and the large modern stove hadn’t even been delivered. He took the master builder through the house with him and told the man to hire as many extra workmen as he needed and press hard to get the main rooms, at the very least, ready for occupancy within a fortnight.
Second, he needed to recall his servants. Since moving to Bennet’s house, he’d given his valet a holiday and sent his man of business, Williams, out to Hampshire to see to things at Wildwood. His family estate should be in fine shape by now, and Tristan finally had need of the man again. He dashed off notes to each of them, summoning them back to Hanover Square, with an addendum to Williams to hire a full house staff when he reached London.
Third, he needed to see his solicitor. Mr. Tompkins raised his eyebrows when he heard Tristan’s instruction, but he merely bowed his head. “What are the particulars, my lord?” he asked, reaching for his pen.
