Hyacinth chuckled, and he looked up at her, serious at first before his face softened into a smile.
With a light grip, he lifted her foot and placed it back on the ground, then took a seat on the bench next to her. Bracing his elbows on his thighs, he leaned forward, eyes still focused on her foot.
“I truly am sorry,” he said again. “Did I injure you any place else?”
His gaze met hers and then he assessed, taking her in slowly. Hyacinth repressed a shudder at how intimate it felt to be so close to him and have his eyes drinking her in.
“I promise you didn’t,” she said quietly.
They both fell silent, and she feared he’d soon wish to escort her back inside, but he remained next to her. His thigh just a hairsbreadth from hers, his arm almost pressed to her own.
He sat stared out at the garden, his brow furrowed. His eyes had been so full of light and his expression so carefree when they’d dance. Now he looked trouble, and she doubted it had anything to bumping into her.
“Is something troubling you?” Hyacinth said the words softly, hoping he’d confide in her just a little.
“Is it so terribly obvious?”
“A bit, yes. You look unhappy.”
“I’m conflicted,” he said, then reached up and scrubbed a hand across his face. “And I’ve been a fool.”
“Have you?”
He nodded, then dipped his head, looking at her. “Have you ever spotted someone across a room, and they smiled, and you smiled back, only to turn and realize they were actually waving at the person next to you and not at you at all?”
“I can't say that's ever happened to me.” Goodness, they were so close. She could reach out and smooth her fingertip across the furrow between his dark brows. She resisted.
“Is that what happened to you?” she asked instead.
“In a manner of speaking, yes.”
“You followed someone into the garden. Someone you thought wanted you to follow.”
He looked away, then back at her, full lips curved. “I was supposed to dance with her, but I thought perhaps she wished to speak to me privately first.”
Hyacinth pushed the jealous twinge inside her down. “But she didn’t wish to speak to you.”
A low, rumble of laughter echoed in the night. “Very much not. She wished to speak to another gentleman, it seems.”
“Ah.” The two over by the fountain.
Tristan stretched out his legs, hands braced on the bench. His left hand gripped the fabric of her gown, but he seemed not to notice.
“Now, I’m faced with a dilemma.”
“Which is?”
“Do I tell her cousin, my friend, how I found her with a gentleman, alone, in the gardens?” He tipped his head, gaze fixed on hers again. “What would you suggest?”
“Does my opinion matter so much?”
He smiled at that. “As a debutante, you must have opinions on debutantes.”
Hyacinth lifted the ribbon at the neck her gown, smoothing the velvet between her fingers as she considered.
“We don’t know more than that she was speaking to a gentleman.” She glanced at him. “Just as we are now. I wouldn’t like anyone making assumptions about me or tattling on me.”
He dipped his head, but she could see that he was smiling again.
