Page 43 of Courting the Country Miss

Tristan took a step back under the force of her verbal blow. Did she have such a low opinion of him? Or did she bear some belated anger over their near kiss at Vauxhall? She hadn’t seemed upset at the time, or later in the evening. It would be like a woman to think about it later and get all riled up over a small thing.

He bristled. “Just because I have a reputation, doesn’t mean I am not a judge of what’s proper. I know the rules of society.”

Instead of looking apologetic, Leticia set her mouth in a challenging glare. “Then tell my sister and aunt that Isabella should not put herself on the auction block.”

Before Tristan could open his mouth, Isabella let out a huff of annoyance. “I’m not selling myself as a slave; it’s a supper dance.”

“She’ll be viewed by every man in attendance,” added Mrs. Tallier, “which could be of great advantage, especially if the bids climb as high as I suspect.”

“Oh, dear.” Elizabeth looked between all four of them, her eyes wide with alarm and her chin quivering as if she were about to burst into tears. “You don’t think this will create a scandal, do you?”

“Certainly not.” Mrs. Tallier turned to Leticia. “You, young lady, ought to trust your elders. Lady Averston would never do anything outside of the pale. If she did, I would not support it.”

Tristan almost pointed out that Elizabeth, younger than Leticia, could not rightfully be her ‘elder’, but thought it a moot point.

Leticia’s mouth worked, visibly torn. Tristan hooked his arm through hers. He walked forward, forcing her to walk backward until they reached the far end of the ballroom away from the others. With his hand on each of her shoulders, he turned her to him.

“Tish?”

Leticia’s eyes grew shiny as if she were fighting tears. “I don’t want this to hurt Isabella; I couldn’t bear it if it did.”

His ire melted under her rare show of emotion. “It won’t. Everyone knows this is for charity. Elizabeth and your aunt are pillars of society and etiquette; everyone respects them. As they said, this is for the supper dance and supper. What could possibly happen?”

She let out a half sob and shook her head, her hands coming up in a helpless gesture.

He lowered his voice into soothing tones. “I’m sure the guests are the picture of propriety. Richard and Elizabeth were very selective with their invitations.”

Leticia drew a labored breath and nodded. “I suppose you’re right.”

He squeezed her arms. “I know you’ve taken some abuse about this school idea, but you’re doing the right thing. I admire your passion.”

She looked up at him with those large green eyes, so trusting, so lovely. “Do you really?”

“Indeed. If anyone dares speak out against you or Isabella, I’ll take them out and thrash them.” He smiled to soften his words, though he meant them.

She laughed ruefully. “To tell you the truth, I was tempted to crack my umbrella over Lord Petre’s head when he was so rude.”

“I’m sure you were. You are downright lethal with umbrellas.”

They shared a smile remembering when she’d done that to him years ago.

Tristan looked over his shoulder as voices filled the ballroom. “It looks as though your guests are already starting to arrive. Shall we?” He held out an elbow.

She placed her hand on his arm. “I’m sorry I impugned your honor. I didn’t mean it.”

He opened his eyes wide in mock surprise. “You impugned my honor?” He donned a fearsome scowl. “That’s it, woman; choose your weapons. I’ll meet you at dawn.”

She smiled at his idle threat. “Of course you know what is and isn’t proper. I merely…”

He waited, not certain he wanted to hear the rest. She shook her head and never completed her sentence.

He finished for her, “You hate what a rake I am and you think me incapable of anything exemplary.” He couldn’t keep the bitterness out of his voice.

She looked up at him, but he refused to meet her gaze. He was starting to hate what a rake he had become, too. It was all so meaningless. Maybe it would become fun again when he had Leticia wedded and his obligation to her ended. Or maybe it had been so long since he’d been with a woman that he had forgotten how well it helped fill his emptiness—temporarily, at least. Perhaps he needed a bracing drink. Or a smack to the side of his head.

The evening began in earnest, guests arriving, gentlemen paying their subscription, greeting, laughing, drinks flowing. Music began and soon dancers obliterated the chalk drawing on the floor. Tristan did his part, dancing with as many wallflowers as he could find and flirting with proper older ladies until they cracked a smile. He didn’t realize until his dry throat drove him to the lemonade table that he hadn’t touched a glass of champagne. He rather became accustomed to having a clear head. Odd, that.

For Leticia’s sake, he kept an eye on Isabella but she had no shortage of partners. Rather, they seemed to be stumbling all over each other for the opportunity to partner her. Overall, the evening progressed flawlessly, which reflected well on Elizabeth as well as for The Cause.