Page 79 of Courting the Country Miss

Tristan nodded and waited for them to approach. They exchanged greetings, the other two lords declining an invitation to accompany them, and Tristan joined his brother in Richard’s waiting coach.

Seated across from Tristan, Richard eyed him. “What is on your mind?”

Tristan clasped his hands together. “Don’t laugh. And don’t faint. But I am here to ask you if I can help with the estate. Or anything.”

Richard’s eyebrows shot up.

Tristan added, “I could take over some small detail. Perhaps manage one of the properties, or help with a specific aspect that affects all of them. I don’t know much about crops, but I have a passing knowledge of structures, bridges…” He shrugged. It had all sounded better in his head. Now that he had voiced it, it seemed paltry.

Richard cocked his head to one side. “You want to help? Why?”

“I want to do something to pay you back for all the times you’ve been there for me. I’d like to try to ease your burdens. To be honest, I don’t know what to suggest, except…” an idea came to him as he spoke. “I could visit some of the properties, inspect the house and the tenants. Speak with the stewards. You wouldn’t have to travel as much. You could spend more time with your wife.”

Richard’s disbelief transformed to speculation and then serious consideration. “I could have you view the property in Northumbria—I haven’t been there in years. And I have never visited the property in Cornwall that came as part of Mama’s dowry. It’s fallen into a fair state of disrepair with only an aged caretaker.”

Tristan nodded. “I’d be happy to see what it needs. I could go to both places.”

Richard studied him. “What’s on your mind?”

Spreading his hands out, Tristan searched for an answer. He shook his head, rejecting every poetic phrase that entered his mind. Richard hated when Tristan waxed poetic. Finally, he settled with, “I owe you much, so I thought you were the one I should try to help first.”

A pause. A long one. Richard went still, a sign of deep thought. At last, he shifted and gave a loose wave. “Very well, I welcome the assistance. Cornwall is a higher priority. It will take you at least a week to get there, and this time of year, the roads could be bad. Perhaps visit this summer, but in the meantime, open a correspondence with the caretaker?”

A week. If he left town to oversee that property, he’d be gone two and a half to three weeks, which would take him away from Leticia for far too long. But if that’s what Richard needed, Tristan would see to it.

He nodded. “I’ll begin at once.”

Richard’s mouth quirked to one side. “You’re serious about this.”

“I am.” Tristan looked him straight in the eye.

As if realizing the reason for Tristan’s change in behavior, Richard sobered. “You don’t have to do this as penance, you know.”

Tristan studied his hands before spreading them wide. “I want to do more. I want to be more.”

Richard leaned forward and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Then let’s help you find more.”

“Thank you.”

For the first time in who knew how long, Tristan had goals; learn all he could about the possibility of running in the next election for the House of Commons, ease some of Richard’s burdens, help Elizabeth and Leticia with their school, and become a man who could hold up his head in polite company, the kind of man Leticia deserved.

If he were to crowd out Kensington and Bradbury, he must get more creative. No matter. He excelled at creativity. He looked forward to the challenge of winning the heart and hand of his dearest friend, whom he could never let out of his life.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Leticia fastened the frog closures of her plumb-colored pelisse, and donned a bonnet before she went to the morning room to await Tristan. She sank into a striped armchair and put on her kid gloves.

Why on earth had Tristan been so insistent on taking her somewhere? And why did he seem so crushed when she explained her plans with Lord Bradbury and Captain Kensington? The idea that Tristan would be jealous…no, a ludicrous thought.

What would it be like to be pursued by a man like Tristan, though? She almost sighed at the thought. Memory edged into her mind of her lips accidentally brushing his. The shock of that contact had sent alternating hot and cold chills straight down to her toes. Then he’d kissed her a second time and…oh my…

Instinct must have prompted that second kiss—nothing more. Heaven help her if he ever kissed her on purpose!

Perhaps all kisses were so exhilarating. She tried to imagine sharing such a moment with Lord Bradbury, a remarkably handsome man, as well as kind and attentive, with a wry sense of humor. She’d enjoyed viewing the Bridgewater Collection at Cleveland House with him. How would his kiss affect her? Somehow the idea fell flat. Perhaps she would not know until she shared such a moment with him.

Or Captain Kensington? He had not actively courted her, but he’d sought her out on occasion. Also handsome and kind, with a lively, albeit dark humor, the captain would make a desirable husband. In moments, she detected an underlying sorrow, the source of which she had yet to learn. He was mysterious. What would it be like to kiss him? That thought also failed to invite any excitement.

The idea of kissing Tristan—a real, purposeful kiss, left her breathless.