Page 53 of Courting the Country Miss

“Yes, you were wonderful.” Leticia’s smile turned impish. “I had no idea you were capable of lifting anything heavier than a riding crop or a hand of cards.”

He raised his chin and assumed a lofty air. “I can lift a gun, as you’ll recall.”

Her smile turned soft. “So you can, for which I am so very grateful.”

Tristan’s mouth dried. If she turned too many of those enchanting smiles on him, he might be tempted again to kiss her, and this time, do a thorough job of it.

He almost smacked his own forehead. Kissing Leticia would be a mistake for more reasons than he cared to enumerate. This threatened to get too serious. He searched for a change of topic.

“How is your mother?” Elizabeth asked Leticia.

Tristan let out a breath of relief that a benign conversation had started.

“She’s well,” Leticia said. “She is growing weary of spending so much time in bed, but she’s making the best of it. She’s taking up sketching again. She says my sisters sit on her bed and read aloud, and they’ve even put on theatrical performances for her.”

“I’m glad they’re keeping her company,” Elizabeth said. “Is she excited at the prospect of a new baby?”

Leticia smiled. “Very much. She’s hoping it’s a boy, of course. I’m sure my father is too, although he assures her he’ll love a daughter as much as a son, but I know it would be of great comfort to them both to have a son to inherit the estate.”

“When is she due?” Elizabeth asked.

“Late August or early September, she thinks.”

Elizabeth smiled, but wistfulness touched her expressive face. “I envy her.”

Leticia patted her hand. “I’m sure you’ll be blessed with a family soon.”

“I hope so. It’s been a year since our marriage…”

Tristan tried to picture Richard as a father, getting his children out of one scrape after another the way he’d always done for Tristan.

The carriage stopped in front of Tristan’s rooms. He bid them both farewell and stepped out of the carriage.

After consoling his valet, Bentley, on the sad state of his soiled clothing, Tristan ate, bathed, and changed, then took a hackney to Leticia’s aunt’s house. Why he felt so compelled to seek her out, he didn’t dare consider. Perhaps duty drove him there to learn whether she’d enjoyed waltzing and dining with Lord Bradbury the other night. Never mind that she’d been smiling and laughing each time she’d danced with the man. Mere courtesy might prompt her pleased expression. But that sparkle in her eyes seemed genuine enough when she spent time with Bradbury. It appeared his plan was working very well.

Blast it all anyway.

Still, he ought to inquire about Lord Bradbury. He had failed to ask her earlier today; he might as well call upon her now.

During the drive, he entertained himself by fantasizing beating Lord Bradbury to a pulp, first at fencing, then at fisticuffs. By the time the hackney arrived at Mrs. Tallier’s house, Tristan found himself whistling. Inside the drawing room where they received guests, Leticia stood conversing with two ladies, and Isabella held court in another corner with five young bucks who tried too hard to impress her and ended up coming across like over-eager puppies.

Leticia’s aunt, Mrs. Tallier, greeted him. “Mr. Barrett. How kind of you to call upon us.”

Tristan bowed. “It’s always a pleasure, ma’am.”

Mrs. Tallier turned to someone behind him. “Lord Bradbury. Do come in. How delightful to see you again.”

Bradbury. Tristan ground his teeth.

Wait. What did Mrs. Tallier mean by saying “again?” How often had the lord been calling? The auction took place two days ago. Surely he hadn’t called since then. Had he?

Tristan stepped to the side and turned, eyeing Bradbury who greeted Mrs. Tallier with a formal bow.

Donning his mask of urbane boredom that he used with the upper levels of snobbery, Tristan inclined his head and drawled, “Bradbury.”

Bradbury’s gaze flitted to him and he returned the nod. “Barrett.”

Tristan made a grand sweeping gesture toward the room in general, as if he were inviting Bradbury in, and took another step back. Folding his arms, he leaned against the wall and pretended to study the view outside. Bradbury strode to Isabella, greeted her, acknowledged the bucks, and chatted. A moment later, he moved to his true target—Leticia. Before he reached her, the Setons stood and bade Leticia good day.