Page 26 of Courting the Country Miss

“I suppose I do.” Kensington smiled, but no humor touched his eyes.

Tristan shrugged, attempting nonchalance. This conversation had been unexpectedly tense. “I’m not worried about having even numbers at the Gardens—nothing that formal. You’re invited if you care to come, or not.”

He clapped Kensington on the shoulder and wandered off. Out of Kensington’s surprisingly dark company, Tristan let out a breath and focused on his objective. By the end of the afternoon, Tristan had invited Rowley, Seton, and several others in a mixed group of Richard’s ilk as well as a few considered respectable but not quite so stuffy. He left out the debauched Mr. Wynn, of course. Tristan also invited several young ladies, choosing those with whom Leticia would be comfortable.

That task complete, Tristan approached Leticia standing with a group of young ladies including her sister, Isabella. As he sauntered to them wearing his most winsome smile, Leticia glanced his way. Her mouth softened and the rest of the world fell away, leaving the two of them. If only he could feel this safe with another woman beside his best friend. Although that might result in love and marriage, and he’d never be reckless enough to take that plunge.

For propriety’s sake, he bowed and murmured, “Miss Wentworth, Miss Isabella.” He greeted the other ladies in the circle, gratified he remembered their names.

“A man with a purpose, I see.” Leticia’s smile turned knowing.

Why did everyone suspect him of seeking more than polite conversation today? “No, not a purpose. Er…not really. Several of us are for Vauxhall Gardens Wednesday next. Care to join us?” His glance included the other ladies. “All of you are invited, of course.”

Leticia’s expression turned mischievous and almost suspicious. “Vauxhall? With whom?”

“Reputable invitees, I assure you. Mr. Rowley, Captain Kensington, Miss Wynn, Miss Seton and her brother Mr. Seton, among others.” All designed to provide Leticia with potential husband candidates, as she already guessed.

She pursed her lips in a lopsided pout like she always did when she considered something. Then, with a mild shrug that stated why not, she nodded. “It sounds diverting. I hope the weather holds.” She looked up as if she expected a cloudburst at any moment.

Her earlier suspicion still stung but Tristan inclined his head. “I’ll be sure to order perfect weather for our outing.”

The other ladies present murmured their assent.

Leticia smiled as if she knew a secret. “Very well, it seems we accept.”

“Excellent.” He inclined his head.

After providing details of when and where to meet, Tristan took his leave and headed for the refreshment table. Matchmaking made him hungry. As he sat and devoured an array of delectable treats intended to tempt the palate rather than fill a man’s stomach, a cool shadow fell over him. He glanced up.

“Mrs. Hunter,” he said in surprise.

“Please,” she purred. “Georgette, remember?” She took a bite-sized sandwich and bit into it, each motion of her lips pure seduction. She glanced up at him from under her lashes. Her tongue slid out and licked off the crumbs from her full lips. She smiled, a sensuous movement with a clear invitation.

A rush of heat tightened Tristan’s collar. She was beautiful and desirable and clearly wanted him. It would be a nice, simple affair with no promises asked or made.

He cast a guilty backward glance at Leticia who stood engrossed in conversation with an older couple. Her sweet, light laugh rang through the air. Her fresh loveliness contrasted against the foil of the sultry Mrs. Hunter. He stood torn between night and day. But that made no sense. Leticia offered friendship, nothing more. Mrs. Hunter desired an uncomplicated liaison.

He focused on Mrs. Hunter. “A fine day for a gathering, is it not?”

“A very fine day,” she agreed. “Are you attending the Miller’s soiree musicale tomorrow night?”

Tristan paused. “I think not.”

She pouted prettily. “A pity. I’d rather hoped to see you again in a more…intimate setting.” Her gaze swept over him from head to toe.

Tristan tugged at his strangling cravat and shot another guilty glance at Leticia. When he chose to enjoy the charms of women who propositioned him, he had always done so without an audience. Short liaisons helped to stave off his consuming loneliness. But blast it all, he couldn’t enjoy Georgette Hunter’s attention with the virtuous Leticia nearby. It seemed too…crass.

Besides, the last few affairs had left him empty, almost used. Which is why he’d avoided them the last several months. Mrs. Hunter was too…obvious. Wanton. Vulgar.

Affecting a proper bow, Tristan smiled politely at Mrs. Hunter. “Perhaps our paths will cross again. Good day.”

He strode away before he had time to register the expression on Mrs. Hunter’s face. As he walked, he glanced at Leticia. Their gazes met. Leticia studied him as if to assess his response to Mrs. Hunter. He should march over to Leticia and tell her to get out of his head and stop acting like a conscience. Her attention flitted between him and Mrs. Hunter. Then she smiled, approval shining in her leaf-green eyes.

Tristan drew himself up taller.

“You’d better rein in your wife, Averston. She and that Wentworth twit are getting too pushy in their ridiculous crusade,” said a nearby voice.

Tristan slowed his steps and searched the crowd. Lord Petre confronted Richard.