Page 19 of Courting the Country Miss

“I don’t blame Tristan for that scandal,” Isabella announced. “I blame Lady Elizabeth. She behaved badly.”

Leticia turned to her. “Oh, no, Bella, don’t. A nun couldn’t resist Tristan. And besides, Richard is so happy with Elizabeth now so I’m sure it worked out for the best.”

“For everyone except you.” Isabella glanced at her.

Leticia put an arm around her sister and gave her a warm squeeze. “Do not concern yourself with me; I am well enough.”

Her mother had told her heartache gets easier over time. Perhaps time really would heal all wounds.

Leticia rather thought not.

The following morning, Leticia walked her mount at a sedate pace to cool him after her brisk morning ride. As she rounded a bend in the path, Tristan, at a canter on his favorite gelding, appeared on her path. Leticia reined. She should cut him, she really should. After all, he’d probably spent last night in the arms of that vulgar woman. Leticia’s face warmed with righteous anger, and she trotted forward as if she hadn’t seen him. He waved, a smile lighting his face.

Softening, she let out her breath. She couldn’t cut him. He hadn’t changed. He was the same rake he’d been the last four or five years. Leopards never change their spots. Just because she’d been present to witness his latest conquest didn’t justify being rude to him nor throwing away their friendship.

“Good morning, Tish. Bit cold this early, huh?”

She narrowed her gaze in mock suspicion. “Who are you? You can’t be Tristan Barrett—it’s not yet high noon.”

He grinned. “Yes, I admit, I’m more acquainted with sunset than sunrise. Must be all this clean country air having an adverse influence on me. Or maybe it’s Colonel Sherwood’s not so subtle hints about retiring that sent us scurrying to our beds at an unfashionably early hour.”

Leticia ground out, “Yes, I’ll bet you scurried to your bed early.”

Tristan cocked his head at her peevish tone. “Meaning?”

Leticia let out a noise of derision. “You and that woman were very chummy.”

“Ohhhhh”—amusement danced in his eyes—“you think Mrs. Hunter and I—”

“I don’t care!”

He chuckled. “You sound like a jealous lover, Tish.”

“I do not. I….” Why was she so upset? “I think you could do better.” She stared straight ahead so he wouldn’t see too much of her expression.

“You’re right. She’s not my type.”

“She’s exactly your type; a young widow seeking a lover.”

“Then why are you so angry?”

“I’m not angry,” she lied. “I’m…disappointed. I wish you’d court someone respectable and think about settling down.”

He choked. “I’m twenty-three. I don’t plan to settle down for a long time, if ever.”

“If ever?” She studied him then.

Silently, he stared at something far ahead.

Captain Kensington astride a bay rounded the bend and caught up to them. “Good morning.” His gaze danced between them. “Am I interrupting?”

Tristan replied, “Not at all. Leticia was telling me how much she’s looking forward to the Season.”

Leticia choked.

The Captain focused on Leticia. “Ah, yes. The infamous London Season.”

“You’ll be there, I trust?” Leticia said.