Page 85 of Courting the Country Miss

He handed her down from the carriage and escorted her to the front steps. The noise from the streets seemed loud and busy, as if everyone in the district were nearby.

She made a loose gesture to the door. “I’d invite you in but my aunt is likely still gone with Isabella.”

“Of course.” He bowed low over her hand, then continued to hold it as he straightened. “Tomorrow.”

She nodded. “Tomorrow.”

He held fast to her hand. Her focus fixed on his as if somehow every muscle in her body had frozen in place. He swallowed. Twice. Then he released her hand and backed away. As he strode down the stairs, he glanced over his shoulder, smiling, and looking almost triumphant.

Released from whatever spell she’d been under, Leticia went inside.

What a confusing situation! She should have refused to see him on the morrow. Spending so much time in Tristan’s company had both an unexplained and uncomfortable effect on her sensibilities.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Tristan finished his correspondence with the caretaker of the property Richard had turned over to his care, and signed his name with a flourish. How gratifying this undertaking had been! The caretaker clearly enjoyed someone taking an interest in the “old place” and had plenty of suggestions for restoring it to its former glory. Tristan had half a mind to hire a coach and view the property immediately. But not now. Roads were difficult in the best of times, but this year produced the coldest spring he’d ever seen. He might hit torrential rain or even snow in places. No, he’d best wait until summer.

Besides, he didn’t dare leave now with Bradbury and Kensington competing for Leticia’s affection.

Yesterday, the balloon ride had been turbulent at best—at least in her heart. Heated glances, a few blissful moments in his arms, the exhilaration of flight, comfortable friendship, and that moment when she’d grown angry with him—all creating a confusing combination. Why had she grown so angry with him? Had she felt overlooked as he flirted with every other lady or woman whose paths he crossed?

That didn’t make sense. She’d never shown any signs of desire for him, until quite possibly these last few days, and she still viewed him as a shameless rake.

He craved the love of a faithful woman. To such a woman, he would give everything—his heart, body, and soul. To Leticia, he would give it all. Would she ever see him for who he’d become, or always view him as a dissipated rake?

There must be a way to prove himself to her.

He set the pen in its holder and capped the inkwell. After sanding the ink, he folded and sealed the letter and handed it to a servant to have it posted.

Richard’s barouche arrived and Tristan practically skipped out to it and tapped his toe during the drive as if the cadence would speed his arrival to Leticia. Inside the foyer of her aunt’s house, already prepared to leave, Leticia waited.

His heart sang at the beautiful sight. “Leticia love, you look exquisite.”

She faltered and made a point of adjusting her gloves. “Er, thank you.”

He grinned to put her at ease. “And how refreshing that you are always ready when I come for you.”

It worked. Her eyes took on a playful glint. “I know it’s terribly unstylish not to adhere to the custom of ladies making a gentleman wait. However, I assume he tells her what time to expect him so she knows when to be ready.”

Bowing, he took her hand and kissed it. If only her gloves could vanish. As he straightened, he tucked her hand into the crook of his arm. “I am delighted, as always to benefit from your superior good sense.”

She let out a slight chuckle. “You don’t have to play the part of a besotted suitor, Tristan.”

“What makes you think I’m not a besotted suitor?”

She huffed. “You? I’m hardly your type.”

“Perhaps my type has changed.”

She shook her head, disbelieving. He pursed his lips. He had much to do to convince her.

He made a gesture. “Your carriage awaits.” Walking taller with Leticia on his arm, he led her outside. He glanced at gathering clouds. “I hope the weather holds.”

She looked up. “Didn’t you pay homage to the weather god?”

“Of course, but he may not grant me two requests in a row.”

“Perhaps you need to make a better offering,” she suggested.