Page 34 of Courting the Country Miss

“Do you know him well?”

“Not well. He strikes me as intelligent, articulate, and well-mannered.”

Tristan asked the most important question, “Womanizer?”

Richard shook his head. “Clean reputation.”

At the table where the game took place, Lord Bradbury tossed down his hand and stood. “Too rich for me.”

A chorus of ohs followed this pronouncement. The winner let out a gleeful chuckle and the crowd broke up.

Bradbury wrote out his vowels on a slip of paper and handed it to the winner along with a calling card. “Call on my man of business tomorrow to settle up.” He strode toward the door.

“Bradbury,” Richard called out. “Come, let me buy you a drink.”

Bradbury’s gaze searched for the voice and his face relaxed as he veered off his original path and took an empty seat at their table.

As Richard made the introductions and ordered Bradbury a port, Tristan sized up the man. Confident, poised, serious. Tristan mentally went through Leticia’s checklist, uncertain if the lord met her criteria. A decided gulf separated the lord’s status and Leticia’s, but not insurmountable.

“Not your night at the tables, eh?” Richard said.

A brief, wry smile touched Bradbury’s mouth. “So it seems, which is why I seldom play.”

Not a frequent gambler. Good.

Bradbury met Tristan’s direct gaze with one of his own. “Have we met?”

“No, I think not.”

Richard smiled. “My brother and I look enough alike that people often say that.”

Tristan let out a mock sound of outrage. “We look nothing alike; I’m charming and you’re stuffy.”

“I’m responsible and you’re dissipated,” Richard shot back, though a smile lit his eyes.

Bradbury cleared his throat. Richard and Tristan ceased their banter. A waiter set down a glass in front of Bradbury. The lord sipped as he took measure of Tristan.

Bradbury turned his attention to Richard. “I received an invitation to your subscription ball. I suppose that’s your lot now that you’re a married man.”

“Will you come?” Richard asked. “It’s for a good cause.”

Bradbury traced the edge of his glass with a finger. “I suppose I should.”

Tristan and Richard waited, but he didn’t elaborate as to his reasons.

Richard’s lips twitched. “I’d be indebted to you if you would attend as well as help me with a project of my wife’s. We are having a bid for the pleasure of the supper dance with certain ladies, the proceeds of which will go toward her foundation. May I count on your participation to help get things started? I’ll be bidding, of course, and my brother here, and a few others, including Suttenberg and Pemberton, but in case there are a few in attendance who are reluctant to join in, your involvement may help tip the scales, and get things moving along.”

Bradbury nodded. “I see what you mean. Very well, then, count on me.”

“Much obliged.”

Fascinated, Tristan fingered his signet ring as he watched the lord. He’d never met someone whose mannerisms and deportment reminded him so much of Richard. Leticia would find it hard to resist such a perfect replica. Tristan must find a way to introduce them.

Bradbury’s gaze swung to Tristan. “Have you made up your mind about me yet?”

Tristan started. “Excuse me?”

“You seem to be trying rather hard to take my measure. Have you come to a conclusion?”