Page 63
“I take it you received my letter,” Charles said with a glance in Marie’s direction.
She stood still and silent, though a small smile graced her lips—those lips he’d almost tasted of once more.
Focus, Charles.
“Indeed, I did,” Tristan replied. “After receiving your cancellation of our hunting trip, I knew you had to be in earnest. Nothing would make you cancel such an outing. I returned to Grendale straightaway and spoke with Mother and Father first. They didn’t hesitate to tell me how madly in love the both of you had fallen after a mere day of being with one another, so I simply had to see it for myself.”
Charles drew a deep breath. This was it. He placed a hand at the small of Marie’s back. “It is true. We are married. Tristan, I believe you know my lovely wife, Marie. Marie, my brother, Tristan.”
A few pleasantries were exchanged, then nothing else followed. Charles looked between them, his tongue frozen in place.
Marie was right. He was terrible at playacting.
Instinctively, he glanced at her for help.
It was as if a candle had been lit within a dark room, her expression shifting instantly. She straightened her back and pulled a bright smile upon her features as she directed her attention to Tristan.
“I am so happy to see you again, sir,” she said graciously. “Though I feel I know more about you now than I did before, thanks to Charles. I do hope the fact that I am at fault for his cancellation of your hunting party will not sully your opinion of me before we have had the opportunity to get to know one another better. I assure you, should any event arise in the future, I shall highly encourage your brother to attend.”
Tristan appeared pleasantly surprised by her words, though Charles was even more so. He’d seen Marie shift from stoic to honorable, from conversational to silent, and from flirtatious to angry. This was a side to the woman he hadn’t seen until now—the comfortable and secure hostess.
He couldn’t deny how appealing it was.
“I assure you,” Tristan responded, “nothing will sully my opinion of the woman who has managed to win favor with Charles.”
“What a relief,” she said. Then she turned to Charles.
Once more, his mind emptied of all potential words.
“Oh, ignore him,” Tristan said, “As you can see, I’ve startled my brother into a stunned silence.” He shrugged. “I’m sure he’ll come around soon.”
Marie laughed. “It takes a great deal to silence him. I commend you for your quick work.”
Tristan chuckled, clearly impressed with her repartee. “I’ll give you a few suggestions if you’re interested. Might come in use throughout your life.”
“Oh, please, do.”
Charles watched the exchange in silence, half-annoyed with their teasing, half-pleased with how well they were getting on.
He wasn’t certain why it was so important to him that they did, but he knew a sense of relief to see it all the same.
Silence fell, and Charles realized that both of them were watching him again expectantly.
Instead of relying on him to speak—or rather, not to speak—Marie placed a gentle hand on his upper arm. “What a sight we must be, my dear. Appearing so sodden will hardly add to my favor.” She gave a little laugh. “You must excuse me, Tristan, for my appearance. Your brother has allowed us to become caught in the rain—drew it up as some sort of adventure.” She shared a knowing smile with Tristan. “At any rate, I shall freshen up, then perhaps the three of us can take tea in the sitting room just through there.”
“That would be lovely,” Tristan said.
Charles again remained silent, caught up in Marie’s very presence. Was this what life with her would look like if they were truly in love and remained married? Would she play hostess to his friends and family, be kind and loving—offer to care for them and become friendly with them of her own accord?
He couldn’t deny the appeal of such a life. There was something compelling about the image, something feminine about Marie instantly caring for her guest and his brother, that the desire to be cared for himself awakened within Charles’s soul.
“Charles?” she asked.
He blinked out of his reverie, clearing his throat. “Yes, I should like to change into dry clothes, as well. Do excuse us, Tristan.”
“Of course.”
Tristan eyed them with a scrutinizing gaze before leaving for the sitting room on his own.
