“Sorry, no. I’m not in the mood for billiards.”
Collier smiled, always amiable. “Shall we have music and dancing?” He leaned in as if to confide something. “Felicia is eager to dance with you again.”
Tristan arched a brow at that. “Is she?”
Nothing about their dance and their brief exchanges during the ball had indicated as much, and Lady Felicia was not the lady he wished to dance with tonight.
“You seem distracted, my friend.” Collier immediately turned to approach Emma, who stood speaking with the Duchess of Edgerton.
“Shall I play piano, Miss Brooke, in case anyone wishes to dance?”
Emma’s eyes lit. “That would be lovely. Thank you.” She glanced around at their guests. “Perhaps you might play a bit and we shall have dancing later. For now, everyone seems eager to become better acquainted.”
Tristan didn’t miss how her gaze drifted to Lord Cartwright, who sat beside his aunt on a settee, but who seemed only interested in Emma.
“Very well,” Collier agreed easily. “I shall play something light.”
As soon as Collier headed toward the piano, Tristan took a few steps toward the Bridewell twins, but the Earl of Selwick sidled up to him first.
The guests had all been offered after-dinner refreshment, and Selwick lifted a snifter of brandy to his lips.
Tristan had known the man for many years. He’d met him at university, as he had Collier. Selwick thought highly of himself, and Tristan understood his breeding and the title he’d inherited had granted him power, if not the wealth to go with it.
“Good to see you, Selkirk.”
The earl smiled. “An interesting collection of guests.” He lifted his snifter, but didn’t drink, just gestured with his pinky. “Seems Cartwright has taken a fancy to your lovely sister. Does he have your blessing?”
Tristan tried not to glance at where the two had taken up a spot near the far window, speaking quietly to each other.
“I doubt she’d listen to me even if I did not.” Tristan knew his sister, though sweet-natured, possessed a tenacity that few could overcome. And, in truth, if Cartwright cared for her and gave Emma the devotion she deserved, he would not oppose the match. And he’d see that their father didn’t either.
“He’s a good match for your sister,” Selwick murmured thoughtfully, then scanned his gaze around the room. “And I think perhaps one of the duke’s sisters might just suit me.”
Tristan clenched his jaw so hard his teeth ached. He glanced toward Hyacinth, then at Selwick’s profile and wanted to wipe the slight leer off his face.
When a footman passed with a tray of drinks, Tristan took a snifter of brandy himself.
“Are you well acquainted with them?” Selwick asked quietly.
“My sister befriended Miss Hyacinth Bridewell during the Season.”
“Which one is she?” Selwick tipped his head to the side, gaze fixed on Hyacinth and her sister. “The one who looks at everything like a wide-eyed innocent or the one with poise?”
Tristan frowned and bristled so entirely that his skin began to itch. Hyacinth may observe things eagerly, and in the ways Selwick so crassly referred to, she might be an innocent, but those were not flaws.
Tristan swigged at his brandy to keep himself from taking a swing at his longtime acquaintance.
“Named after flowers or some such, are they not?” Selwick continued. “I do favor the one in sapphire.” He referred to Miss Marigold Bridewell. “But there is something delicious about the other. Like a ripe fruit, is she not?”
“Selwick,” Tristan growled in a low warning tone.
The earl sipped his brandy and lifted his head with a smirk. “One has caught your eye, I take it.”
Tristan inhaled sharply. “Perhaps.” He had no intention of divulging any of his feelings about Hyacinth to the earl.
“Well done, Brooke. Marriage to a duke’s sister-in-law would be quite the coup.” Selwick slid his gaze to where the Duke of Edgerton sat with his duchess. “But I wonder if Edgerton has greater plans for them.”
Tristan narrowed his eyes. Selwick had always been a pompous ass, and no one had gainsaid him because he had outranked them all.
