“Is everything all right?” Henry asked. He tilted his head and narrowed his gaze. “You look a bit odd. Like you’re being tortured by a tasty cream puff you cannot have.”
Tristan choked on a laugh and instantly wondered how Lady Lilliana would feel about being compared to a dessert. A mental image of her lying naked in his bed with her hair draped over his pillow assailed him with startling clarity. His pulse leapt and his gut tightened. Heat sank lower until sitting still became an uncomfortable chore.
All of this while her brother kept his gaze firmly upon him. Dear God. He’d turn into a raving lunatic if this continued. Embarrassed, he shifted and cleared his throat. “Forgive me. I cannot seem to focus today.”
“Because you’re still trying to figure out what my costume should be for the upcoming masquerade?”
“Precisely,” Tristan said, latching onto the perfect excuse without hesitation. “Naturally, I want you to look your best.”
Henry nodded and sauntered farther into the room. He approached one of the two spare armchairs and sat, legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles. “I still can’t believe we’re having a ball. Mama always tries to avoid hosting events while we’re here because she feels there’s enough fuss when she’s in London. To her way of thinking our time spent here should be used for relaxation.”
“I trust she wasn’t the one to suggest it then?” Tristan asked.
“No. Grandmama did that. In fact, she insisted upon it so strongly I wondered if she might have some ulterior motive besides her excuse of wanting to relive her youth.” Henry’s brows drew together briefly before he raised his chin and looked directly at Tristan. “She inquired about you, by the way.”
“What?” Apprehension pricked at the nape of Tristan’s neck, washing his skin with an itchy heat.
“Wanted to know how you came to be in my employ. It was all rather odd. The interest on her part, I mean. Particularly with regard to your family.”
Tristan’s mind raced. He’d been careful thus far, hiding the truth from his employer, but if questions were being raised, there was a chance he’d soon be found out. And what would happen then? He’d not so much be sacked as politely asked to leave. Because if there was one thing he was certain the viscount wouldn’t accept, it would be learning he’d hired a gentleman to see to his toilette and keep his affairs in order.
And yet, he did not want to lie. Not when they’d become friends and he genuinely liked and respected the man. So what the hell could he say?
“I told her your parents have fallen on hard times and that you’re aiming to help them and your younger sisters, which is what you’ve told me. I hope you don’t mind my sharing that information?”
Tristan blinked, relieved to realize he wouldn’t have to say anything else. He shook his head. “No. It’s the truth, after all.”
Or as close to the truth as he was willing to go. Without a fortune or a title, his chances of winning an earl’s daughter were nonexistent anyway. Best then to avoid letting the world know the Henleys were so desperate their son had been forced into service. To do so would only bring shame to the family name, and that wasn’t something Tristan would do for any reason.
“I would recommend keeping it simple,” Henry said.
“I beg your pardon?” Tristan asked, realizing belatedly that he must have missed a part of the conversation.
The apprehension in Henry’s eyes suggested he might be worried Tristan had hit his head. “Regarding my costume for the masquerade?”
“Of course. Will black attire with a half mask do?”
“Splendidly so.” Henry moved as though preparing to stand, only to settle back into his seat. “I almost forgot. Papa and I have been considering the gentlemen who participated in the picnic and have decided Mr. Ershwin and Mr. Newhurst would both make excellent suitors for Lilli. If you could, I’d appreciate your writing up a list of comparisons between them. Everything from their properties and annual incomes, to their ages, relations, and so forth. I especially want to know if there’s any damning information about either one.”
Tristan stared at Henry while doing his best to keep his expression neutral. “In other words, I am to investigate them.”
“Precisely,” Henry remarked in a cheerful tone.
“If you’ll forgive me for saying so, is this task not better suited for your father’s secretary? I am, after all, your valet.”
“One who is more than capable of branching out, I’ve noticed.” Henry jutted his chin at the ledgers. “Truth is, Mr. Phelps is related to Mr. Ershwin through marriage, so I fear for his objectivity. And besides, I trust you to make the right choice. If all goes well, Lilli will marry one of them at the beginning of next Season.”
“But neither of these men holds a title,” Tristan blurted.
“No, but we’ve tried all the ones who do and none was able to secure Lilli’s consent. At least Mr. Ershwin and Mr. Newhurst are both young, handsome, and seemingly wealthy. My sister could do a great deal worse.”
Tristan knew this was true. Lady Lilliana was in fact incredibly lucky to have a father as lenient as the earl. Not only did he permit her more freedom than most young ladies in her position enjoyed, he’d also allowed her time to find a life partner she approved of without insisting the man be a peer. But it was clear his patience was running out. The time had come for Lady Lilliana to pick her husband, apparently with Tristan’s assistance.
He sat motionless at the desk long after Henry had quit the room. Just when he thought things couldn’t get worse, he descended into the next level of hell.
“What are your thoughts on marrying for love?” Grandmama inquired loudly during dinner, causing Lilli’s wine to go down the wrong way.
She sputtered and swiftly took another sip of her drink while her grandmother patiently waited for someone to answer her question.
