CHAPTER 2
Sir Tristan Brooke stepped into the Beckfords’ ballroom and shuddered as he took in the throng.
The noise struck him first, a hum of conversation, interspersed with barks of laughter. Then the heat of so many bodies hit him. He resisted the urge to reach for his necktie that suddenly felt chokingly tight.
Though he’d never confessed it to anyone, crowds unnerved him. It felt like a failing, a weakness, that his pulse quickened, his chest tightened, and he had the impulse to escape.
Perhaps it was that he tended to prefer quiet. He lived an orderly life, where study and scientific inquiry consumed his days. He planned each day and could control his environment when he was at home or in his laboratory. Gatherings like these felt a bit like barely constrained chaos, even if he knew there was a pattern to the dances, a set of rules for etiquette, and a strict pecking order of who was who in London society.
Still, despite his sister’s urging that he should spend as much time with people as he did with books, invitations to social events rarely interested him.
But a few months ago, everything had changed.
When Queen Victoria took notice of you, Society did too. Since his knighthood, he’d been sought after, lauded, and even mentioned in the press. He’d done his best not to be rude and had entertained more visitors to their London townhouse in the last two months than he had in his whole life.
Still, no matter how much he steeled himself, crowds of lords and ladies in all their finery made him agitated. Give him a lecture hall, a laboratory, a conference of like-minded scholars, and he was in his element. He wasn’t certain he’d ever feel at ease in the social whirl of London’s upper crust.
But he’d been drawn to tonight’s ball by a single objective.
His father had been urging him to take a bride, to carry on the family name, to make a good match. And his friend, Lord Nathaniel Collier, wished to introduce Tristan to his cousin, who was having her first Season out. He’d decided that by fulfilling Collier’s request, he might also settle his father’s anxiety about carrying on the Brooke name. That prospect had enticed him to accept Lady Beckford’s invitation.
Yet despite his determination to dance with Collier’s cousin, Lady Felicia Fairfax, he felt out of place as he waded further into the sea of guests. Especially when he noticed some of them looking his way.
The acclaim that came after his discovery of a sauropod dinosaur bone and the queen's knighthood had been overwhelming. Thankfully, a bit of the initial furor had died down, but it seemed curiosity still lingered. He nodded at those who looked his way and searched for a glimpse of Collier or for his own sister, Emma, who could usually be found lingering at the edge of the ballroom.
Their father had become a misanthrope after the death of their mother, and his little sister often teased him that he’d inherited their father’s reclusive nature. Unlike both of them, Emma adored parties and gathering with friends, and Tristancould not fathom why she found herself on wallflower row. She was brilliant, kind, and had inherited their mother’s fair-haired beauty.
“So you truly decided to brave the Beckfords’ ball,” Lord Collier said from over Tristan’s shoulder. “Thought perhaps you’d make an excuse.”
“No excuses this evening,” Tristan told him as he pivoted to face his longtime friend, tamping down the unease he felt in the crowded ballroom. “I look forward to meeting your cousin.”
Collier scanned his gaze around the room. “Very good. She’s saving you a place on her dance card.”
Tristan followed his friend’s gaze and spotted the slim, dark-haired young lady who he’d seen once years ago when he visited the Collier’s country house. She hadn’t made much of an impression on him then, but she’d clearly grown into a pretty young woman. She wore a pleasant, hopeful expression while she stood next to an elegantly garbed older woman.
“My aunt is her chaperone,” Collier mused. “Apparently, Aunt Junia has scared away half the unmarried men in London, determining that they’re not appropriate suitors for Felicia.”
“And you believe I am?” Tristan asked.
Collier chuckled. “Of course.”
The knighthood had given Tristan access to people and events he might not have had otherwise, due to his more inward-looking nature. Now, peers in the field of paleontology took him seriously. He’d met with fellow scientists and had even received funding from the Paleontological Society.
Apparently, the knighthood had made him an appealing prospect on the marriage mart too.
He knew next to nothing about Collier’s cousin, except that she was well-bred and seemed to possess the social graces he lacked. Those qualities alone would make her a desirable match.
“Does she have other suitors?” Tristan knew so little about the lady.
Collier eyed him. “Not afraid of a bit of competition, are you?” He grinned. “In truth, she has received two offers of marriage and refused both.”
“Why?”
“One was elderly and the other had a reputation for being quite a scoundrel.”
Tristan choked out a laugh. “Worse options than me, then?”
Collier shrugged. “I thought you might suit each other. Felicia wants a husband closer to her own age and she wishes to run a household and entertain. My aunt and uncle have that sort of practical, respectable marriage, and I suspect she wants the same.”
