Page 27 of Courting the Country Miss

Richard looked as calm as if he’d been discussing the cut of a tailcoat. Mildly, he said, “My wife is my business, Petre. I’ll thank you to mind yours.”

The utter stillness in Richard’s posture betrayed his controlled anger.

Lord Petre’s face reddened. “It’s become my business because my wife has been spouting nonsense about our duty to help the poor better themselves. Next thing you know, the poor will start lopping off the heads of all their betters.”

Tristan went on alert. Should he offer his support or let Richard fight his own battle?

Richard laughed softly, velvet over steel. “I doubt teaching a few urchins to read and find decent jobs will cause such upheaval.”

“I don’t want your wife nor that Wentworth chit anywhere near my wife, giving her all these revolutionary ideas that could lead to ambitious tradesmen thinking they’re our equal. That may be enough to set it off. There’s enough unrest already, what with all the riots.” Lord Petre glared at Richard as if he were to blame for the civil discontent.

“Which Parliament is addressing, as you recall,” Richard reminded him. “And there were many factors that lead to the bloodshed in France.”

Perhaps Richard didn’t need him, but Tristan’s annoyance that the boorish Lord Petre had brought Leticia into his criticism, not to mention his disparaging remarks about her worthy cause spurred him. He took up two glasses of sherry and sauntered over to them with an external calm at odds with his irritation with the lord.

“None of these factors, to my knowledge, included teaching orphans to read, sir.” Tristan handed Richard a glass and glanced at Petre, keeping his stance open and non-confrontational. If he could diffuse the other man’s hostility, perhaps he could reason with him.

Lord Petre gave Tristan a dismissive glance and glowered at Richard. “I’m telling you, Averston, put a leash on your woman and that conniving little country chit, and stop spreading dangerous ideas. It will lead to no good.”

The slight to Leticia’s character pushed Tristan’s annoyance toward true ire. He tensed, barely catching himself before he leaped at the man’s throat.

Richard gripped Tristan’s arm and said in a low, dangerous voice, “That so-called conniving little country chit and her family are long-time friends of our family.”

“She ought to heed her betters,” Petre said.

“She is the daughter of a gentleman,” Tristan ground out. “I’ll thank you to speak more courteously of her.”

“Hmph.” Petre stalked off.

A muscle in Richard’s jaw tightened and his fingers drummed on his thigh, the one visible sign of agitation.

Tristan shook off Richard’s arm and fought to release his anger. “Do you ever allow yourself to get truly enraged and go punch something?”

Richard lifted a brow. “About a year ago, in fact.”

Right. Richard had done exactly that. Tristan rubbed his jaw still feeling the bone-cracking punch Richard dealt him when he’d been certain Tristan seduced his wife. “Other than me, that is.”

A smile twitched Richard’s mouth. “Why do you think I box and fence so often? And often, I run it off.”

“You still do that, too?” Interesting. Richard still ran when his emotions threatened to get the better of him. Warmth enfolded Tristan. They still had that in common, at least. Tristan glanced back to find Lord Petre talking to another stuffed shirt and waving his hands. “Is he cause for concern?”

“Others may agree with him. It might mean Elizabeth and Leticia losing supporters for their school, if he keeps it up.”

“Might he be a problem on any other level?”

Richard took a slow sip of his drink, a tactic he used when he needed a moment to sort through his thoughts. “I doubt it. Most consider him a windbag. I don’t think he’d do anything about it except complain and try to discourage others from contributing.” The corners of his mouth relaxed. “Elizabeth and Leticia have a rather unconventional manner of raising funds, however, so I doubt many will resist.”

Rhys Kensington joined them. “You both look as if you’re plotting a siege.”

Tristan pointed with his chin. “Some take exception to the school Leticia and Elizabeth plan to open.”

Kensington glanced around. “Trouble?”

Richard chuckled. “Are you both ready to grab guns and go in shooting again?”

Kensington’s gun hand twitched and he grinned. “Sounds like fun. Who do we get to shoot?”

“Stuffed shirts,” quipped Tristan.