“Go on,” said the dowager countess. She’d already closed her eyes. “I want to enjoy the birdsong.”
Lady Lilliana pressed her lips together in a firm line. She clearly didn’t approve of how she was being managed. Eventually she huffed a breath and latched onto Tristan, singeing him with the touch of her hand, despite its being gloved. His muscles flexed in response and that was when he heard her gasp. Not loudly, but enough for him to know he wasn’t the only one affected by their closeness.
A smile tugged at his lips as he guided her farther away from their chaperone. Daring a glance in Lady Lilliana’s direction, he noted the high color in her cheeks, accentuated by the golden rays of afternoon sun. Her lips, a deep pink shade, were made for kissing, for sliding over hot skin with velvety softness and…
He jerked his gaze back to the flowerbeds and cleared his throat. “Are you enjoying the picnic, my lady?”
They walked a few paces in silence before she surprised him by saying, “Not really.”
A startled laugh pushed its way up his throat. “No? I thought such diversion appealed to most ladies.”
“Apparently, I’m different from the norm. Though I must confess the picnic was my idea.”
He glanced at her again and saw a distinct look of concern in her eyes. Slowing his pace, he carefully asked, “Why would you plan an event you’re not interested in?”
“Because…” She met his gaze then and all he could think of was how troubled she looked. There was a deep–rooted panic about her he dearly wanted to smash to pieces until she’d no worries left. “It was to be a distraction, but the people who showed up were so annoyingly eager to outdo each other with stories of their own accomplishments. The gentlemen especially. And all I could think about the entire time was…”
“Yes?”
She knit her brow and to Tristan’s eternal frustration, chose to direct the conversation elsewhere rather than finish her sentence. “Let’s talk about something else. Like you and your family. If I recall, you have two sisters?”
“Indeed I do,” Tristan said, guiding her down a path that led straight to a rich display of roses.
“How old are they?” Interest softened her tone and caused Tristan’s heart to swell.
“Sixteen and ten. Iris, the elder of the two, is a lovely young woman though a tad too timid. Emma on the other hand is more outgoing.”
“You speak of them with fondness,” Lady Lilliana noted. “You miss them?”
“Yes.” The confession forced him to face the dread always lurching about in his gut. “I’m hoping to help them improve their prospects with my earnings. If I can give them a choice when it comes to marriage, I’d be satisfied knowing I’ve done my duty.”
“I trust your parents are no longer with you then?” Before Tristan could answer she said, “That must be incredibly hard on you. I mean, the responsibility you must feel is one I cannot relate to. I admire any man who is willing to do what he can for his relations. Life can be difficult. Especially for women.”
“You’re not wrong, but you misunderstand me. You see, my parents are still alive and, well... It is just…” Shame poured through him at the thought of admitting what he’d not revealed to another soul, not even to Henry. But he’d always prided himself on honesty so allowing Lady Lilliana to think his parents were dead when they weren’t did not sit well with him. “My father cannot seem to hold on to his money.”
“Oh.”
Tristan bit back a curse and averted his gaze while heat swept the length of his spine.Well done.If his intention was to push her away then making himself look pathetic would surely prove effective.
To his surprise, Lady Lilliana drew closer to his side and gripped his arm a bit tighter. “That doesn’t lessen the burden you carry or the respect I have for your determination to do right by your sisters,” she said. “Indeed, I would think that having an irresponsible parent one cannot rely on is harder than not having any.” She sucked in a breath. “Forgive me. That sounded much better in my head than spoken out loud. How callous you must think me.”
“Not in the least.” He halted, then turned to face her. “Indeed, I think you’re the loveliest woman I’ve ever encountered.”
The pink in her cheeks deepened. “Would you think me too forward if I were to tell you I hold you in a similar regard?”
Her words were like sunshine warming his skin. “Not at all. I’d keep the compliment close to my heart forever.”
A soft vulnerability filled her eyes before a wicked gleam replaced it. “What's the most embarrassing thing you've ever done, Mr. Henley?”
The question caught him by surprise so he had to think on it for a moment, until he recalled an incident from his childhood. “When I was a boy, about nine or ten, I was playing with other lads after church while our parents socialized over tea at the vicarage. At some point one of the older boys began boasting about having readFanny Hill.”
“Goodness.”
He glanced at her in surprise. “You know of it?”
“I may or may not have snuck a peek at Henry’s edition,” she confessed with a blush. “Promise you won’t tell him?”
“Your secret’s safe with me,” he assured her.
