Page 74 of Courting the Country Miss

“Before Dr. St. Ives came, your head wounds were festering and you were burning up with fever. He cleaned out the sickness and applied herbs to the wounds.”

“I’m indebted to Bradbury, then.” His expression slumped.

“Well, yes, I suppose in a way since he sent Dr. St. Ives who, as I understand, was a doctor in the war but where he learned about herbs, I can’t imagine.”

Tristan hunched over and rested his head in his hands.

Leticia studied him. “Why have you come today?”

“I…” He paused. “I went to see Appleton’s family today, to pay my respects.”

Oh, poor Tristan! What a kind and thoughtful—not to mention courageous—gesture to make to the family. She put a hand on his arm. “That must have been difficult.”

He let out a long exhale. “His father forgave me. He told me to stop feeling guilty. I didn’t expect that.”

Leticia kneeled in front of him. “He’s right. Stop punishing yourself. You didn’t cause the accident.”

He nodded, his head still in his hands. A lock of dark hair tumbled over his brow, so much like the Tristan of her youth.

“Are you in pain?” She brushed his hair back away from his face and admired the way his curls caressed her fingers.

“My head hurts a little.” His gaze moved to a vase of flowers Lord Bradbury had sent her, his card nestled among the blooms. Pain flitted over his expression but he cast it off with a lazy smile. “So, you and Bradbury?”

She looked down. Why did discussing Lord Bradbury with Tristan feel so awkward? She’d never had trouble sharing her thoughts with him before. Since they’d kissed, everything changed. The mere mention of Lord Bradbury to Tristan resonated like an insult or a betrayal…to Tristan. But that made no sense. Tristan was not, could not, be a suitor. He would never settle down, much less be constant to any one woman.

Tristan waited, watching her.

Leticia shrugged. “He has called upon me. I have no true expectations at this point.” Marrying Lord Bradbury seemed a glamorous dream, but empty of true meaning, or joy.

She shook herself. He was perfect. She should be enthusiastic at the idea, not wishing he made her feel the way Tristan did. She should cast off these unfair comparisons. She knew Tristan. Lord Bradbury represented a mystery. That had to be the explanation for her conflicted loyalty.

“He seems to fit your criteria.” Tristan stared out the window.

“Yes, he does.”

His eyes narrowed, but when he returned his gaze to her, something akin to urgency entered his expression. “Don’t rush into promising yourself to him, Tish.”

His words took her aback. “I won’t.”

“I mean it. I know he seems a good match, and he’s a lord, but you have time and you have plenty of other prospects.”

“Captain Kensington, you mean?”

He winced. “And others. Please don’t hurry into accepting him because you think he’s your one chance.”

She took his hand and held it as warmth and friendship and something unexpected came over her. “I promise I won’t rush into anything.” She smiled. “I know you’re against the institution of marriage, but I seem to recall you encouraging me to find a husband.”

“I’m not against marriage. I…I might do it…someday.”

“Really?” she drawled. “You? I don’t believe it.”

He looked away. “Do you have any idea how it feels to believe you’ll be alone for all of your life?”

At his tone and expression, her teasing mood evaporated. She whispered, “Yes. I do.”

He put a hand over hers. In a hushed voice, he said, “I don’t want that for you.”

“I don’t want that for you either.”