Everything he wanted to say—that Charlene would never come back, and Rowan had to accept it; that hoping someone as shallow as Charlene would change was a waste of time; that Rowan should stop thinking of her—seemed wrong. But he couldn’t give Rowan false hope, either.
“You’ll tell me if you need anything,” he said instead.
“It sounds like an order. As usual.”
“I didn’t mean to give you an order.”
“I want to be alone, please.” Rowan’s tone didn’t leave room for a reply.
He and Rowan had more things in common than he would have imagined, so he rose and headed for the door.
Harris entered the room before Tristan could exit. “Lady Effie is here. She wishes to see you, my lord.”
“Would you like to see her?” he asked Rowan.
“No.” Rowan didn’t turn around.
“There will be other occasions,” Harris said diplomatically before Tristan could speak.
“I’ll tell her you send her your regards,” he said.
Rowan didn’t acknowledge him.
When he went downstairs to see Effie, warmth stirred in his chest, a combination of relief, desire, and happiness. Until he saw her bruised face.
He wanted to hold her again and trail his lips over the blue bruise until it vanished. Before the incident, he liked her spirits and light, but now the urge to protect her overwhelmed any other sentiment.
“Tristan.” She flashed a feeble smile. “How’s Rowan? May I see him?”
“Physically, he’s recovering, but he isn’t in the mood to see anyone. Not today at least.”
She lowered her shoulders. “I understand. Well, I won’t disturb you further.”
“You never do. I’m always happy to see you.”
Her smile was full and genuine.
They both stood there for a heartbeat or two.
Effie broke the spell first. “I’d better go home anyway. I didn’t leave a message for Papa to tell him where I was, and he had a fit yesterday.”
“He must have been worried.”
“Yes, because I changed my plans at the last moment. He thought I’d gone to visit my brother in Greenford, but then I received Rowan’s message and decided to go to see the famous locomotive.”
That caught his attention. “Your father had no idea you were at Aldersgate Station?”
“None. It was quite a shock for him. I’ve never seen him so upset.”
“I can imagine.” He needed to talk to George. “Let me escort you to your carriage.” His heart gave a kick when she slid her arm through his.
Her cheek brushed his shoulder as they walked down the steps to where her carriage was parked. For a split second, he imagined walking out with her at his arm as his wife. There wasn’t anything he wanted more than to be next to her and make her happy. A dream, for now.
He helped her climb into the carriage. “I hope we can talk soon.”
“We will.” She parted her lips as if wanting to add something else, but then she closed them.
“What?” he prompted.
“I care about you, Tristan. Please do not believe I don’t.”
His next breath cleansed his body from sadness as if he were breathing mountain air, instead of London’s fumes.
“You have no idea how happy I am to hear that,” he whispered.
“No, I think I do.”
She waved when the carriage rolled forwards, and happiness stunned him so hard he stood there on the pavement until the carriage turned the corner.
