Page 102 of Courting the Country Miss

“No, of course not. You seemed to have treated her well, made her feel admired, and you showed others she was desirable, which, no doubt, boosted her view of herself. Withdrawing now before expectations are raised is a wise course of action.”

“I’m relieved to hear that.”

Tristan took a leap of trust. “Just so you know, I don’t view her as a sister.”

Kensington tilted his head to one side. “I see.”

“She is…special.”

Kensington toyed with a small gold band he wore around his little finger, a ring Tristan had not noticed before. “I have business in the continent. I depart Tuesday next.”

“Will you be in Italy, by chance?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact, I will.” Kensington eyed Tristan.

“Perchance you could look in on my sister Selina? She’s been gone a rather long time and seems reluctant to return home. Perhaps you can reassure me as to her safety.”

“I’d be happy to.”

Their food arrived, and they spent the remainder of the time talking like old friends. Warm and fed, and with one obstacle to Leticia’s heart now cleared away, Tristan turned over new possibilities as to how to convince her that he truly loved her and that she could trust him with her heart.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Inside her bedchamber at her aunt’s house, Leticia fastened her garters and smoothed wrinkles in her silk stockings. As she stood to allow her maid to lower her ball gown over her head, Isabella entered.

“Do I look well enough?” her sister asked, turning.

Leticia glanced at her. “Bella, you always look perfect.”

Isabella gestured to her ivory gown with tiny aqua flowers and trimmed in matching ribbon. “I don’t think this color suits me.”

With a sigh, Leticia gave her a closer look. “Come in by the light so I can see you better.”

Isabella came closer and stood near the tall candelabra where beeswax candles flickered. With her dark hair styled meticulously, and her large, darkly lashed, blue-green eyes more vibrant with the matching aqua of her gown, and the creamy perfection of her skin, she created a stunning image.

“The gown is a perfect complement to your complexion, and it brings out the color of your eyes.”

Isabella’s smile was pained. “Truly?”

Leticia studied her. There seemed to be a deeper issue here than Isabella’s appearance. “Whatever is amiss, dear?”

Isabella sank down on a nearby chair. “I want to look well tonight.”

The maid finished pinning Leticia’s gown and departed without a sound.

“Any particular reason why?” Leticia asked.

“Oh…not really.” Isabella stared off into space for a minute. “May I ask you a question?”

“Of course.” Leticia stepped into her carriage shoes.

“If Lord Bradbury offers for you this season, will you accept him?”

Leticia hesitated. “I do not know. As I told you before, I do not fancy myself in love with him. He’s all that is charming and good and…I should be madly in love with him. But…”

She pictured herself kissing him, but the memory of kissing Tristan leaped into her mind. So gentle, so passionate, his kiss introduced her to a whole new realm of pleasure. The idea of sharing such a moment with Lord Bradbury felt flat and colorless. Yes, she wanted to be kissed again, but not by Bradbury—by Tristan. Her body ached to be back in his arms again, to press her lips against his, to bask in the warm smoothness of his voice, to laugh with him, to tease him, too see him smile at her in that slow, heart-melting manner of his.

She didn’t dare, did she?