Page 71 of Courting the Country Miss

“Your wounds sickened but Dr. St. Ives came and cleaned it all out and applied herbs. Unconventional, but effective.”

“I remember being cold, too, and feeling like I was drowning.”

“We gave you a cool bath to help bring down the temperature.”

He lifted a brow. “We? So…you bathed me?”

She let out a snort. “Yes. I bathed you. I got in the hip bath with you and we frolicked in the water like a couple of mermaids.”

His grin broadened. “I’m sorry I don’t remember that. You must have been glorious, all naked with your hair floating all around you.”

“Shh! Gentlemen are not supposed to think naked thoughts about nice young ladies, much less use the word.” A twinkle in her eye revealed the playfulness hidden behind her rebuke, and a blush bloomed in her cheeks.

Tristan portrayed the picture of contrition. “You’re right. Forgive me. I vow from this moment on to be the perfect gentleman.”

“That, I’d like to see.”

He sobered. “You will, just wait. I am in earnest. I’ve considered my life, and I vow to be a better man. No more meaningless activities. I will no longer be Tristan the Rake, but I will be Tristan the Paragon.”

“Paragon of what?” she teased.

“You may laugh now, but you’ll see. I’m going to settle down and run for the House of Commons and push to help the poor. I may buy an estate of my own and become a responsible gentleman farmer.”

“You?”

“I’ve made some very lucrative investments over the past year so I could do it.”

“I see.” She grew thoughtful, no longer teasing, but clearly unable to believe his words as anything more than idle talk.

He added, “And one day, I plan to marry.”

She choked out a laugh and touched his forehead again. “You have been very ill.”

“I’ll show you.”

“I can’t wait.”

“He’s been talking like that ever since that blow to the head.” Richard’s voice rumbled next to him, amusement lacing his gruff tones.

“I thought you’d be happy,” Tristan said.

“I am happy.” A rumpled Richard propped himself up on his elbow and smiled. “I hope you’re in earnest. But don’t do those things because that’s what I want you to do; do them because you’re really committed.”

Leticia touched his arm again. “I think you’d be wonderful serving in the House of Commons. You’re a natural leader and you’re so good managing people and seeing to their needs. It’s about time you embraced your potential.”

“Thank you, Tish. I appreciate your faith in me.” Did she believe he’d do it or merely being supportive? It didn’t matter. He’d show them all he could be a better man.

****

Over the next few days, his vision cleared and the pain in his head subsided. Leticia visited him each day, bringing him news, and sometimes staying long enough to beat him at backgammon or chess. When his strength returned, he returned to his bachelor’s rooms, which ended Leticia’s visits. Her absence opened a void inside him.

With the return of his health, he turned his mind to the unpleasant task of calling upon Appleton’s family. He dressed with care in all black except for his white cravat. He left off his usual stickpin, his signet ring his one adornment. After his valet, Bentley, finished, Tristan checked his appearance in the mirror, frowning at the purple, green and yellow bruise on his forehead surrounding a large black scab. At least the lump had gone down. It resembled a large grape instead of an orange. The rest of the bruises on his face had faded to a greenish yellow-brown. Fortunately, he had not knocked out his teeth. He was lucky to be alive.

“Shall I have your…er, shall I hail a hackney?” Bentley asked.

Tristan shot his valet a look of sympathy. The man had been about to call for Tristan’s curricle but it had been destroyed in the accident. Tristan would need a replacement, not to mention a new pair of carriage horses; his rider and his hunter were unsuitable for pulling a carriage. Tristan let out his breath and stared out the window. His last pair had been the finest, most perfectly matched team he’d ever seen. Good-natured, too, for racers. How sad to lose them.

“Sir?” Bentley prompted.