“Why did she leave?” he whispered. “Was I such a terrible son?—”
“No. I don’t know her, but I know you. You’re a lovely, clever young man, and any woman would be proud to call you her son. It’s not you. She must have had her reasons, but they had nothing to do with you.”
His eyes shone with unshed tears. “May I hug you?” he whispered.
“Of course, darling.” She pulled him closer and held him.
He swallowed a few times as she patted his back. Her house had always been full of children, but her parents had never neglected them, no matter how difficult thirteen children were to handle. Yet Rowan had never experienced a mother’s affection and likely a father’s either.
The footman cleared his throat discreetly from behind her.
She was startled.
“Peter.” Rowan wiped his eyes quickly, releasing her. “I didn’t hear you coming.”
“My lord, Mr. Trowbridge is here for your French lesson,” Peter said.
“I’m ready.” Rowan stood up and gripped his crutches. “If you want to see Tristan, he’s in his study. You’d better knock andenter. When he’s working, he forgets about the world.” A hint of sadness laced his words.
“I will.”
“Thank you.” He gave her a shy smile.
“You’re most welcome.”
After Rowan left, she walked to Tristan’s study and paused before knocking. The door stood ajar, and Mr. Fleet’s voice came from the inside. So he was still there.
“Why did you change your mind? We were so close!” Mr. Fleet said.
“I made my point.” Tristan sounded calm and composed.
“I don’t understand you.”
“I don’t expect you to.”
“Tell me what changed.” There was the sound of a fist thumping wood.
“This conversation is pointless.” That was Tristan.
They exchanged a few more words but too low for her to understand. And she was eavesdropping.
She was about to return to the drawing room when Mr. Fleet flung the door fully open.
He paused when he saw her. “Lady Effie.”
She greeted him with a nod.
“Effie.” Tristan smiled, brushing past Mr. Fleet and showing his dimples. His eyes lit from within, not with desire like last night, but with happiness. “Harris told me you were here. I’m sorry to have made you wait.”
“I didn’t mean to disturb you.” She didn’t know if she should leave or not.
Mr. Fleet shifted his gaze from her to Tristan. “How is Lord Winchester?”
“George,” Tristan said in a warning tone. “I believe you are leaving.”
“I believe I got the answer to my question. My lady.” He walked along the corridor.
“Please.” Tristan invited her to his study, and it wasn’t as she’d pictured it.
