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Marie stared after him with a small smile. “I like him,” she said softly, then she promptly turned toward the stairs.
What had she meant by that? Did she like him, or was she merely amused by him? That unwelcome feeling of jealousy he’d grown so accustomed to knocked once more at his door, but Charles didn’t answer. Tristan was a flirt, but he knew boundaries—and Marie was Charles’s wife.
“Are you well?” Marie asked from over her shoulder as he followed behind her up the steps.
He had to avert his gaze from what was directly in front of him. “I’m...well enough.”
In truth, he wasn’t well at all. He couldn’t speak—not only due to his inability to lie, but also due to the shifting emotions and feelings within him. He felt as unstable as a ship rocking about at sea.
They reached the top step, and she cast him a smile over her shoulder as she opened the door to her bedchamber. “Do not tarry. Heaven knows what he’ll think we’re up to if we take too long.”
Her eyes lingered a moment on his lips, then she entered her room and closed the door promptly behind her.
Charles stood there for a moment, blowing out a slow breath and holding his hands at the back of his head. He stared at the door handle. Had she not locked it on purpose?
He took a step toward it, then shook his head and made for his room instead.
No tarrying, indeed.
Within a matter of moments, both he and Marie were sitting with Tristan, enjoying tea and Shrewsbury biscuits as they warmed themselves by the small fire.
Charles remained on edge as he listened to Tristan share all of the goings-on in London—where Tristan typically housed in their family townhome to avoid Mother’s meddling—for he knew what conversation was being kicked down the road.
Sure enough—and far too soon—they arrived at what he’d been dreading.
“Well, that is enough about me,” Tristan said, leaning back in his chair as he finished off the last of his biscuit. “I wish to hear more about the both of you. Last I heard, Charles, you hadn’t ever had the privilege of meeting Marie before this week, unless I’m mistaken.”
Charles was about to avert his gaze, but Tristan caught him before he could. All at once, he knew Tristan was aware of the truth. They’d never been able to keep secrets from one another, but Charles had hoped, for Marie’s sake, that just this once, he’d be able to keep his mind to himself.
So much for that.
Still, Charles had to maintain the façade for the comfort of his wife.
“It all happened rather suddenly,” he said stiffly.
“May I ask how?” Tristan asked in a clear challenge.
“Have you not told him yet?” Marie asked before Charles could falter again. She gave an amused shake of her head. “Never trust a man to share the details. He is right, though. Everything did happen rather suddenly. Well, from his perspective, at least. The poor man put off meeting me for over a year. When we did finally manage to meet, there was no denying a marriage was in our future.”
She was remarkable, really. The way she spun her words to never tell a falsehood.
“Sounds like a dream,” Tristan said, clearly not buying Marie’s explanation. He faced Charles again. “I cannot believe I wasn’t informed in more detail of all that had occurred.”
Charles opened his mouth, but again, nothing came.
“That surprises you?” Marie asked with a laugh. “Is Charles not the worst communicator? Never responding to his parents’ letters, never returning home. I am unsurprised in the least that nothing else was mentioned before now.”
Poor Marie was doing her best, but she had no hope with Tristan’s astuteness.
Still, his brother remained kind. “That is true. I was surprised he even informed me of his canceling the hunting party.”
They shared a laugh, and even Charles smiled before Tristan’s condemning eyes reached his again.
“It is all rather strange, though,” he said with a shadowy tone. “Is it not?”
Charles’s chest tightened. Tristan was not pleased with all this trickery. Nor was Charles. But he could not injure Marie.
Please, he pleaded with his eyes. Let it be, brother. I will explain soon.
