“That all sounds perfectly innocent. How, pray, did things progress from taking tea and the occasional dance to the vivid stories of scandalous behavior that burned my ears today?”
Oh Lord. Tristan racked his brain; when had things changed? He wasn’t even sure he knew. In the beginning she had been a spitting Fury, and he’d been mainly intent on besting her. But then he noticed her mouth, and her bosom, and the way her eyes glinted with gold sparkles when she delivered a stinging set-down, and before long all he’d thought about had been her: laughing, teasing, somber, breathless with desire. When had he stopped telling himself she was trouble? “I believe the tipping point was when I persuaded her to go ballooning with me.” The baronet’s eyebrows lowered, but Tristan forged on. “I help fund the man responsible for the balloon at His Majesty’s coronation festivities, Mr. Charles Green. Miss Bennet made a passing mention of how dull and commonplace it is to drive around a park like everyone else, so I conceived the idea of a balloon trip. I hoped it would amuse her, or at least divert her mind from worries over her mother’s health. Ten men held the ropes at all times,” he added quickly. “We never left London and were able to descend at a moment’s notice.”
“Hmmph. Joan enjoyed this?”
He pictured her face as they rose into the crisp morning air. “She did,” he said softly. “Her eyes grew bright and she exclaimed with such delight when we were high enough to see from St. Paul’s to Greenwich. I had to persuade her to chance it, and worried that she would never let me forget it, but she felt the thrill and excitement as keenly as I did, once we were aloft. It was the first time we spoke without arguing, and I—” He stopped abruptly. “I think she and I would deal well together as husband and wife. Will you bless my suit?”
The baronet leaned back in his chair, stretching out his legs and resting his chin in one hand. “You have no sisters, do you, Burke?”
“No, sir.”
“And your mother died years ago, I believe.”
“Yes, sir.”
His visitor’s face grew a shade more compassionate. “I always thought you were dealt a poor hand in life. Your uncle was a good man, if utterly without humor, but your aunt ... I felt sorry for any boy growing up under her hand.”
“I avoided it as much as possible,” Tristan agreed.
“Yes, I gathered,” said the baronet dryly. “Your visit to Helston was the stuff of legend.”
His ears burned. “Er ... yes. I offer my most sincere apologies for that.”
“No, no.” Sir George waved this away. “I knew exactly what was going on. My son thought you were the most capital fellow in Britain, and within two days I understood why. A boy with no parents and no fixed home would have no boundaries, no qualms about braving any adventure, no fear whatsoever of a parent’s reprimand.” He hesitated, his gaze growing stern for a moment. “I trust you’ve outgrown most of that.”
“I will never endanger your daughter,” said Tristan quickly. “Never.”
“It would be much worse if you bored her.” The baronet nodded at his surprised look. “I’ve had thirty years of marriage and over twenty years of raising a daughter, and I tell you without equivocation that a bored woman is the greatest danger in the world to a man’s peace. Women need occupation. They also need affection and respect and attention and at least two new bonnets a year, but above all they need something important to occupy their days.”
“So I should find something for her to do?” Tristan frowned.
Sir George snorted. “God forbid you tell her what to do! No, you need to allow her some freedom to find her own pursuit. My mother was devoted to her gardens, my wife to her children and her fashions. I hope my daughter will have children someday to devote herself to, but either way, I advise you, as one man to another, to use the words ‘forbid’ and ‘prohibit’ very lightly. The Bennet women are known for their wills of iron, and woe to the man who thinks to bend that will to his liking. It’s much more likely to snap back in his face and leave a deep dent in his skull.”
“Thank you for the warning,” Tristan said, adding under his breath, “although you might have told me sooner.”
The baronet’s eyes gleamed. “She’s already demonstrated that, has she? Well, my Joan is a clever girl, quick-witted and determined. But she’s got a kind, loving heart, and if she’s bestowed it on you, there’s very little for me to say.” He lifted one shoulder. “I did mention that one doesn’t easily deny a Bennet lady, didn’t I?”
“So we are in agreement?”
“We are.” The baronet put out his hand, and Tristan clasped it. “I’ll have my attorney call upon yours to draw up a marriage contract.”
“Good!” He grinned, his heart thumping hard in delight. “I’m sure we’ll reach a fair settlement.”
“I intend to take full advantage of you, my boy. This is not the way I wanted to see my daughter married.”
Tristan grinned. “You can try.” The baronet cocked one brow, and Tristan wiped the grin away. “No, sir. I am very sorry for any upset my actions may have caused your family.”
“Soon to be your family,” his visitor pointed out.
He’d thought of that, but even Lady Bennet at her most severe couldn’t be worse than Aunt Mary, and he had high hopes that both Joan’s parents would soften toward him once he proved himself a good husband. “Yes, sir.”
Sir George chuckled. “I’d hate to regret this,” he said, giving Tristan an appraising glance. “I’ve no doubt you could beat me to a cinder, but I’m still a crack shot.”
“Ah—right. I understand perfectly.”
“Good. Make my daughter happy.” He clapped Tristan’s shoulder, at last breaking into a genial smile. “It would be very upsetting to all if I had to inflict a flesh wound or two by way of reminder.”
“Er ... yes, sir.”
