Page 87 of Courting the Country Miss

With exaggerated delicacy, she cleared her throat. “I’m trying not to look.”

He laughed at her partially pained, partially playful expression.

They browsed a few minutes longer, reading from the paper guide before they wandered to other rooms and other displays. Leticia strolled on his arm, her delight in exploring, and the tones of her voice, sometimes playful, sometimes awed. Tristan let out a sigh of contentment. A missing piece inside him returned and fell into place. Without moving his head, he looked at her as she admired a painting.

Her lively face, so familiar, and yet more dear than ever, entranced him. How had he missed what a beauty she’d become? How much time he had lost looking for a sense of belonging when she had been here, practically under his nose, all his life! He ached to gather her into his arms, press his mouth to hers. That very moment. In public. Or better yet, haul her off to some vacant room and do a thorough job of kissing her in private.

He must resist. He must move slowly to gain her trust and prove to her, and to himself, he had changed, that his intentions truly were honorable—but not so slowly that Kensington or Bradbury had a chance.

Upon leaving the museum, Tristan glanced at the sky again. Though still early yet, the gloom had deepened to near darkness as storm clouds thickened.

Leticia eyed the heavens and said in mournful tones, “Your offering may prove inadequate.”

Straight-faced, he said, “I suppose I could still try that virgin sacrifice.”

She gave him a withering glare.

He shrugged. “The rain may hold off yet, until we can get home.”

The coachman arrived with the barouche to take them home, and Tristan steadied her as she climbed in. How many times he’d done such a simple act without appreciating the gift of her presence. What a blind fool he’d been.

He leaned back in his seat and affected a casual air. “What else would you like to do while you’re in London?”

“Are you trying to help me see all London has to offer since this will be my last time to town?”

“Your last trip to town?” He turned in his seat to face her.

She looked down. “I may come for the school, or to visit Elizabeth, but I won’t be back for another Season. I’m here at my aunt’s insistence and because it comforted Isabella for me to come with her for her first Season.”

He eyed her. “I doubt very much this will be your last visit to London.”

“Well, I…I suppose if I were to marry a Member of Parliament, I would return.” She lifted a shoulder.

Did she refer to Lord Bradbury, then? Had she developed a preference for him over Kensington? He didn’t know whether to be alarmed at the thought or relieved that she’d eliminated a contender.

Still, she chose to spend time with him today. He refused to give up.

“How is the school proceeding?” he asked.

Her expression softened. “It is most satisfactory. We gather new students almost every day. Although, we appeared to have lost one.” A shadow passed over her face but she cast it off with her usual cheer. “I have begun teaching some of them to play the pianoforte. You never know when a skill may aid in obtaining employment normally closed to members of their social status. Oh!” Her eyes sparkled. “Elizabeth and I want to teach them to dance.”

“Dance?”

“Yes, people of almost every class dance, and public dances are an effective way to meet prospective spouses as balls are for members of our social circles. If these girls know how to dance, they have a better chance of marrying a man with a good position.”

He thought it over. “That’s a good idea.”

“I asked the servants at my aunt’s house to tell me when and where the working classes gather for these public dances, but I don’t want to send the children unprepared. I thought a few practice sessions would be wise.”

Tristan leaned back and eyed her hand. Would she allow him to hold it? “I didn’t see much of the school the last time I went there. Perhaps you could show me around now that it is in full operation?”

“Would you like to go now?”

“There is nothing I’d rather do.” He called out the direction to the coachman, who turned the carriage at the next intersection. “So, your pupils will not only read and do arithmetic, but play piano and dance.”

“Such skills will help them find gainful employment and rise above their circumstances,” she said.

“If they don’t, it won’t be for a lack of trying on your part.” Unable to refrain from touching her, he took her hand and raised it to his lips.