Page 39 of Courting the Country Miss

Isabella’s laughter floated over the air, and Leticia glanced back. Isabella walked between Captain Kensington and Mr. Dixon while two others tried to impress her with their wit. Most of Tristan’s group strolled nearby in groups of three or four. Music floated over the air, lending a magical quality to the already surreal beauty of the gardens. Lord Bradbury led her past a replica of a castle, complete with cannons, swings, and bowling greens.

“Amazing,” she said.

“There are ruins over that direction.” He gestured. “Replicas instead of the original, of course, but diverting, nonetheless.”

While they admired the gardens, often stopping to exclaim over some charming statue or fountain or artwork, dusk deepened.

Tristan called out. “We should head back to the dinner boxes.” He laughed at something Miss Wynn said. His gaze caught Leticia’s gaze and grinned meaningfully at her, no doubt pleased Leticia still walked on the arm of Lord Bradbury.

Who was she fooling? Bradbury’s position in society soared above her. Tristan must be deranged to think a lord like Bradbury would make a match with a simple miss such as she.

As they returned to the area of the dinner boxes, she looked for Tristan but only found other members of their group. The two ladies Tristan had been accompanying now walked with other gentlemen. Craning her neck, she scanned the darkening gardens for him.

“Our group seems to be congregating by that fountain,” Lord Bradbury said. “Shall we join them?”

“There’s Isabella. I wonder how she’s enjoying the gardens. Please excuse me.”

Lord Bradbury bowed. “It was a pleasure to enjoy the sites thus far in your company, Miss Wentworth.”

“The pleasure was mine, my lord.”

He inclined his head and she curtsied before she moved toward Isabella, trying to appear casual as she let her gaze slip over the crowd, searching for Tristan.

Where had he gone?

She approached Isabella in the middle of the group admiring the fountain. “Isn’t this beautiful?”

“It’s magical.” Isabella linked arms with her. “Tell me about Lord Bradbury.”

“He’s very charming.” She craned her neck, looking out another direction for Tristan’s form.

“And handsome.”

“Yes.” Where could Tristan have gone?

Isabella’s smile turned sly. “I haven’t seen him for a few minutes.”

“Who? Lord Bradbury? He’s right back there.”

“No, goose—your Tristan.”

“He’s not my Tristan.”

“So you keep telling me.”

Leticia spotted him striding toward them from the main pavilion. A woman of questionable reputation wearing a rather low-cut red gown revealing most of her large bosom stepped in front of him, swaying suggestively. Leticia held her breath. Tristan shook his head. Stepping around her, he continued toward Leticia and the others with long, purposeful strides.

Leticia let out her breath to release her tension. Tristan had refused. He hadn’t even seemed to deliberate. She should have known he would never associate with members of the demi-monde.

“Our dinner boxes are ready for us,” Tristan said as he reached her side.

Kensington appeared at Leticia’s side and held out an arm. “Shall we?”

“Thank you.” She took his arm, mystified at the attention of so many distinguished gentlemen.

“I haven’t been here in years,” Kensington commented. “They’ve made a few additions since then. Oh, and wait, any minute now they’ll…never mind. You’ll see.”

“What?”