Page 5 of Courting the Country Miss

She chuckled softly. “Do I take myself too seriously?”

“Perhaps on occasion. So, the wager is, if I fail to find you this paragon in possession of all these fine virtues before Christmas, I will give you a hundred guineas.”

“It won’t happen. First of all, you don’t know anyone who matches that criteria. However, if you’re itching to give me a hundred guineas, I’ll take it in the form of a donation to our school for the poor.”

He grinned. “Done. Now, what remains to be seen is; what will you give me if you lose?”

She thought a moment. “If I saved all my pin money for a decade, I could never come up with a hundred guineas.”

He waved it away. “Not your money. No, it must be something more personal. Hmm….” He stroked his chin, exaggerating his pensiveness. Then he snapped his fingers. “I have it. If you marry a man I find for you before Christmas, you must name your first son Tristan.”

She laughed at his vanity. “Very well.”

She’d never lose this silly wager. After all, who could measure up to Richard? And if she did meet this paragon, he’d never marry her, the daughter of a country gentleman with a paltry dowry.

Nor would she risk her heart to such a risky venture as love.

Chapter Two

Tristan grinned as Leticia tasted her future victory, so certain she’d win. She must have forgotten how tenacious he could be. Or perhaps she thought him incapable of rubbing shoulders with the kind of men who’d make an appropriate husband. But all he’d have to do is arrange to introduce her to some of Richard’s acquaintances. Surely among them, one would make a suitable husband for a prudish lady such as Leticia.

And if not, he’d play dirty and enlist Elizabeth’s help. His sister-in-law would no doubt feel obligated to help the girl who’d once planned to marry Richard. Elizabeth had been a willing participant in that kiss resulting in the challenge that set the rest of the events in motion. No doubt she still nursed some guilt over Leticia’s plight enough to help Tristan’s quest. Although, truth be told, Elizabeth would help him out of the kindness of her heart.

Tristan resisted the urge to rub his hands together, picturing his victory. He’d find Leticia a husband. Then maybe at last he’d stop feeling so confoundedly guilty about the whole sordid affair.

Leticia rubbed her arms and folded them tight.

“Chilled?” he asked.

“A little.”

He removed his superfine tailcoat and placed it around her shoulders. “Let’s return.”

She nodded and they turned, passing a fountain similar to the place where he’d been caught alone with Elizabeth, which had started all the trouble. Leticia stiffened and quickened her steps. Another bolt of guilt shot through Tristan.

Yes, he’d find some way to atone for his crime. Although, Richard so clearly loved Elizabeth, more than he had ever cared for Leticia, that Tristan couldn’t truly regret his actions. Once he found Leticia the love of her life, all would be well. Then he could return to enjoying his bachelorhood without a squirming conscience.

Before they reached the terrace, Leticia returned his tailcoat and stepped inside the ballroom. After donning the coat, Tristan entered, scanning the room for potential husbands for Leticia. More than the house party attended; all the families in the area had also come for the ball, including a few prospects for Leticia. He’d have to give them some thought.

Leticia gave him a knowing smile and moved to her mother. Tristan looked Leticia over with a critical eye. She’d grown from a knobby-kneed, freckle-faced little tag-along into a lovely young lady. Her figure, a bit fuller than strictly fashionable, curved in all the right places. Her brown hair held a touch of red that shone almost auburn in the ballroom lamplight. Her features were pleasant if not striking, but her expressive eyes had an arresting quality that made men take a second look, eyes the color of…hmmm. What color, exactly, were her eyes?

Frowning, he sifted through memories. Odd that he’d known her all his life and yet couldn’t recall the exact color of her eyes. Lightish, he thought. No matter, he’d look again when next he conversed with her. Still, she had much to offer a man. Her dowry might be a deterrent for some but would prevent fortune hunters from sniffing around her like hungry dogs.

Tristan cast a casual glance about the room and moved in the direction of a group of bachelors in the corner, all holding glasses of brandy. He joined them, greeting the two he knew.

“Rowley, Seton.” He nodded.

Rowley clapped him on the back. “Ahh…Barrett. Good of you to join us. Jolly good hunt today, eh?”

“Yes, indeed.” Tristan accepted a glass from a passing tray. “I thought the hounds would actually climb the tree.”

They chuckled at his poor joke. Tristan sized up the men, searching his memory regarding their worthiness as a potential husband for Leticia.

Rowley gestured at the man Tristan didn’t recognize. “I don’t believe you know Wynn, here.”

“No, I’ve not had that pleasure.”

“Tristan Barrett, meet John Wynn.”