“I should have known you'd be here. Barton thought you might have been in father's study, but you weren't there. Has he come to see you?”
“He has. And expressed his eagerness for me to consider Lady Felicia.” Tristan tipped his head as he observed his sister. “What have you been telling him, Em?”
She blinked. “Only what he’s asked me to regarding our guests. I didn’t mention anything about her being an unkind gossip.” Her brow furrowed as she frowned. “Are you not pleased that we invited her?”
Tristan forces a smile, not wishing to make her feel uncertain of her planning. “Of course. And how could we not, when Collier has been invited? He’s quite keen and that his cousin and I…”
He didn’t want to say “marry” because he wouldn’t be maneuvered into exchanging vows with anyone.
“Yes?” Emma prompted after a few moments of silence.
“Become better acquainted,” he finally added. “And so we shall.”
Emma crossed her arms, clearly displeased with his reply. “Do you not wish to marry? Father made it sound as if you are eager to do so, and the house party will help you achieve that goal.”
Tristan crossed his arms too, rested his hip against his work bench, and gave the question due consideration.
Did he wish to marry? Yes. He would soon turn thirty and the prospect of a wife, a family, pleased him. Especially now that he was satisfied with his work.
“Goodness, you’re not enthusiastic about the prospect at all.” Emma took a few steps closer.
Tristan shot her a half-smile. “Perhaps I’m bristling over Father’s enthusiasm, though I’ve never been much of a rebel. And I do think it’s time.”
That didn’t seem to satisfy her.
“It will be all right, Em. Once our guests arrive, I’ll be merrier, I promise.”
“Good.” She smiled softly. “The first shall begin arriving within the next few hours. Will come and help me greet them? Father says he plans to retire early and won’t be greeting any guests this evening.”
“Of course, I’ll help.” He glanced back at his bones and tools. “I’ll finish up, change, and meet you in the drawing room.”
“Thank you.” She turned on her heel, her lavender gown flicking at her heels, and headed out of the conservatory.
“Em?” Tristan called to stop her from departing.
“Yes?”
He took a few steps closer, determined to read her expression. “And you? Are you eager to marry?”
“Oh,” she let out on a breath of surprise. Her cheeks bloomed with bright pink blush. “No one has asked me, as you know.”
“That’s not the question I asked,” he pointed out, though he already had his answer.
And it worried him, especially with her evident interest in Lord Alexander Cartwright. The man was known as a rake, and she was a young lady of twenty. But so was Lady Felicia, or quite near. And Miss Bridewell.
“I do hope you will converse with him and form your own opinion, Tristan.” No explanation was needed about what gentleman she referred to.
“I will. I promise.”
She sniffed, then notched up her chin. “Thank you. And perhaps I don’t need to ask this, but please be particularly kind to Hyacinth.”
Mention of her name put a little knot in his belly that felt a great deal like eagerness.
“Why wouldn't I be kind to her?”
She lifted her shoulders. “I presume you will be, but Hyacinth can be rather shy.”
Tristan cocked his head at that assessment. It wasn’t how she’d been with him at all. She’d been warm and engaging.
