Blakely turned red at the phrase, no doubt hearing a double entendre.
“Your skills would be quite the asset,” Tristan said, making that delicious eye contact with her. She blushed again; this time, the heat spread delightfully across her chest. The off-the-shoulder fashion displayed so much, and for that Tristan was eternally grateful. “How did you come to know such a thing?”
“My father is in shipping,” Miss Piper said, her voice small.
“Ah, this must be him now,” Ophelia observed as an older couple approached.
Miss Piper did the introductions, and Tristan noted Mr. Piper’s disapproval when she named him. Tristan’s reputation was perhaps not the most ideal. He played cards—gambling was an easy way to raise the money for their expedition, after all. Buthe did use some of his winnings on keeping women like Vera Fitzroy happy, it was true.
Yet Tristan was convinced he could win over a man like Mr. Piper. Not that he had any designs on Miss Piper, of course. Any friend of Ophelia’s was immediately off limits, and doubly so if she were someone who might accompany them on their expedition. One oughtn’t dip one’s pen in the company ink, so to speak.
The goal was the Matterhorn. It had been successfully ascended not even a year earlier, by a British team. Unfortunately, Lord Francis Douglas and three other members of the expedition had lost their lives in the descent. Queen Victoria was not pleased that aristocratic blood had spilled on mountain, but it spurred Tristan’s father on. Somehow, that burning desire to conquer was made all the more palpable by the fatal mishap that had befallen Lord Francis Douglas’s team.
Ophelia shared that desire with their father. Tristan wanted to be a part of the ascent, not out of a desire to conquer, but for the view. He was always a boy climbing a tree, looking for a lofty perch. What could be loftier than the distinctive perch atop the Matterhorn? How far would they see? The challenge of climbing a mountain that proved not only impossible but lethal to so many was intoxicating.
Tristan gripped Mr. Piper’s hand—he tried to greet all industrialists with a hearty American-style handshake, as they seemed to respect him more for it. Given that he wouldn’t inherit his father’s title, he needed to prove himself in some other way. “Mr. Piper, a pleasure.”
Mr. Piper’s grip was firmer than he expected, his hands solid and square. Clearly the man had worked shipboard before he became a businessman. “Mr. Bridewell,” he grunted, a voice like gravel. “I’ve heard you and your father are in search of adventure.”
Tristan gave his best rakish grin. “I daresay it isn’t a search, as we’ve found our target.”
“And what would that be?” Mr. Piper was fishing, and Tristan would be happy to reel him in.
“The Matterhorn,” Ophelia announced, giving Mr. Piper a pristine smile of her own. “You see, we’re hoping to make me the first woman to the top.”
“I beg your pardon!” Mrs. Piper exclaimed, swaying as if she might topple at any moment.
“Mr. Whymper has proved the ascent possible. I’ve met him, and while he is perfectly decent, he is no god among men. I believe I can also accomplish the task just as well,” Ophelia answered serenely.
Justine, miraculously, kept her mouth shut about joining the expedition.
“Is this true?” Mr. Piper asked Tristan.
“Of course,” Tristan replied. “But my sister will not be alone. My father and I will also be on the expedition. Surely you know that my father, Lord Rascomb, is an accomplished mountaineer.”
Mr. Piper frowned but nodded. “I’m not sure I can condone such an exercise for a woman. Their natural frailty seems a deterrent.”
Tristan didn’t bother looking to his sister, who had heard the sentiment time and again. But he would pitch Ophelia against any man when it came to endurance. Their father had taken them on mountaineering projects many times, from Mount Snowdon in Wales to Mont Blanc in France. They were slogs, each one of them, and while his older brother Arthur complained, Ophelia kept her head down and her feet moving.
“I harbor no qualms about my sister’s abilities.”
“Mrs. Piper,” Ophelia said, bypassing Mr. Piper’s authority. “I’ve asked Miss Piper to call on me tomorrow. She has some skill that I had hoped she would impart upon me.”
Mrs. Piper straightened, her previous frailty forgotten. “Oh? And what is that?”
“Her skill in knot-tying is quite extraordinary. It would be most advantageous to have such abilities on a treacherous climb such as the Matterhorn.”
Tristan smiled at Ophelia’s cunning. She didn’t say she wanted Miss Piper on the expedition, nor did she ask for lessons. That was Ophelia for you; dance around the issue so that by the time the trespass has been committed, the persecuted doesn’t realize they’ve been manipulated.
“We would be happy to call on you tomorrow,” Mrs. Piper answered, clearly dazzled by the idea.
Even Mr. Piper finally looked pleased. Tristan wanted to sigh. The obviousness of their social climbing was depressing. His father’s title baited more than one family. Technically, his brother Arthur, the heir, was unmarried. No doubt they wished to shove Miss Eleanor into the wandering, aloof gaze of Herringbone.
It wasn’t Arthur’s fault that his courtesy title was Lord Berringbone, nor was it his fault that he was born with eyes so wide and so very far apart, like a trout. It was only a matter of time until someone came up with his nickname. That it was Tristan was... not unexpected. But Tristan had not sold this nickname to the papers. It was just what he called his brother from childhood, and then when they ended up at the same school, since Arthur wasn’t that much older, well, the other boys definitely picked up on the fish-related ideas.
Tristan didn’t begrudge Herringbone inheriting all the money. Or the title. Or a guaranteed purpose in life. But looking at the shy Miss Eleanor, he did begrudge Herringbonethe chance to court her, sight unseen. Tristan was here, and an excellent conversationalist and dancer. Why should his brother get all the respectable women?
The musicians returned from their break, striking up another Viennese waltz. He might as well do his part to raise Miss Piper’s esteem in the eyes of Society. “Miss Piper, may I have this dance?”
