Bad News rested her hand on his arm, batted her long, dark eyelashes as she stared up into his eyes, and whispered, “Is that drink in your pocket, or are you happy to see me?”
Tristan yanked his arm away. “That’s disgusting! Whoever have you heard say something like that?”
Bad News snorted, tossing her auburn ringlets. Other men found her captivating. Tristan found her to be nothing but a swarm of fire ants in petticoats. “If I had a shilling for how many times men have asked me what I thought was in their pockets, I’d—”
“Have a shilling?” Tristan asked politely.
Bad News narrowed her blue eyes. “I wouldn’t need a dowry.”
Tristan threw his hands in the air, very uncomfortable with the entire scene. “I don’t know what we’re even talking about anymore.”
“I do,” Ophelia said, seeming to relish his discomfort. “We are discussing men’s pockets.”
Miss Eleanor Piper chose that moment to join their trio. “Oh, are there new fashion plates out?”
Bad News laughed, but at least had the decorum to cover her mouth. Tristan shot daggers at her. Her reputation was notorious, and she didn’t need to tarnish Miss Eleanor by association. Or by the ghastly things that came out of her mouth.
“I’m afraid not,” Ophelia answered her. “But we are so happy you could make it, Miss Eleanor. I do hope you are ready to share some of your skill set with us.”
At the mention of her skills, Eleanor’s face lit up. She was an attractive enough girl when expressionless, but when speaking of her passions, she was positively radiant. As she spoke, her hands moved artfully, weaving in the air, and Tristan realized she was tying knots. He also realized he was staring at her. He shuffled his feet, leaning in that rakish way that women seemed to appreciate. He honestly could not be bothered by Ophelia’s friends.
“I brought fifteen lengths,” Miss Eleanor said.
Tristan was absolutely lost by her words. He hadn’t been able to listen and watch at the same time.Lengths?
“Ah yes,” Ophelia said, gesturing to a carpetbag on the chair in the corner by the door. “That must be the satchel that Ferris brought up.”
Eleanor turned and spied it, scurrying over. She opened it, counted out four and returned, handing it to each of them. “This is a practice string.”
“String?” Bad News asked, eyebrows raised.
Eleanor gave her a stunning smile, and Tristan was envious that Bad News elicited such an expression on her lovely face. Then he kicked himself mentally and focused on the practice string that looked rather like a hearty rope.
“I call it a string, but yes, it is a length of manila rope. It’s a bit rough on the hands at first. Eventually the natural oils on your hands will transfer, and it will soften up. I recommend using a quality hand cream nightly. It isn’t nearly as bad as handling hemp rope, which is definitely less flexible and harder to work with.”
“I should say,” Bad News said.
“Should we wear gloves?” Ophelia asked.
Eleanor shook her head. “Not at first. At the beginning, we must get each knot so thoroughly in your hands that you could tie it while being highly distracted.”
Oh, Tristan could think of something that would be highly distracting. Namely, watching proper Miss Eleanor standing closer to him. He ran his hand along the length of the rope, and it felt oddly similar to another activity he had been engaged in more frequently since his parting with Vera.
“Like reciting a poem?” Ophelia suggested.
No, Tristan thought. Absolutely nothing like reciting a poem.
“Exactly!” Eleanor said, again bestowing a gorgeous, full-toothed smile. One of her incisors was tilted in a most endearing way. Oh, stop. He wanted desperately to like her, as he liked most everyone. But if he allowed himself to like her, then he’d be at risk oflikingher.
“What is our first assignment?” Bad News asked. “I like to be the best, you know. Give me a head start.”
Eleanor let out a light, tinkling laugh. Tristan almost growled at Bad News. “Shouldn’t we wait until the entire salon may be addressed?”
Ophelia looked up, scanning the room, and Tristan did the same. They had Tristan’s father, himself, Ophelia, Bad News, her brother Francis who was over talking with Mr. Piper, and then the Piper family. It was not a good turnout. But it rarely was. Ophelia winced as Tristan caught her eye.
“I may have forgot to put a notice in the paper.” Ophelia twisted the rope in her hands.
“It does make it difficult to attend a party one doesn’t know is happening,” Tristan scolded. “If you’re going to be the leader of this expedition—”
