“The horse, if you please. Have my bags taken to my rooms,” he added, before turning toward the house.
He needed a quiet evening and fewer conversations.
I’ll have a hot bath and some hearty food. Some meat—perhaps some fish, which I did not have at Redcliff Manor. Or perhaps I should send some. It has been a while since I was betrothed to someone. Besides, we are in the country, and she has little family. I could even ignore some of the…
He lost that train of thought as he entered through the nearest door, making his way into the grand hall to see a familiar figure talking jovially with his housekeeper. His mouth dropped open in disbelief.
The old woman never smiled at anyone except for one person. Never him.
Except that the tall man with the golden hair couldn’t be who Tristan was seeing now.
But when Mrs. Burns nodded in his direction and the man turned, Tristan was forced to accept that it was indeed Julian Ashcombe.
He was now the Duke of Southwick, Tristan heard. They hadn’t discussed it in their recent correspondence, but the papers he had read confirmed it, and his other two friends had also mentioned that Julian was well, alive, and managing his duties with aplomb.
“Tristan!” Julian cried out.
The hall echoed with his loud clap. He was immediately a cacophony that Tristan wanted to walk away from, for he only desired peace.
“Hello, old man! I’ve been looking everywhere for you!”
Too late, his old friend was hastening over to him.
“What are you doing here?” Tristan asked.
I only just sent a letter last week, and I did not think I mentioned this short trip. He must have been close. Ready to pack his bags—and I assume he did bring his bags—for however long.
A duke has responsibilities; he shouldn’t be so easily led by his interests. Surely he has more important matters to attend to than irritating me?
Plans for a quiet evening were squashed as Julian pulled him into a quick handshake and a short embrace, before stepping back to beam at him.
“Look at you!” he cried, ignoring his question. “How dreadful you seem. I see that nothing has changed. But it sounds like you have had an adventure of your own. I arrived only four hours ago and could not believe it when the staff told me that you were not at home despite the invitation you sent me.”
Tristan frowned. “I don’t remember inviting you.”
A wicked grin crossed his charming friend’s face. “The mere mention of you here is invitation enough for me. I read between the lines. I heard of your ungodly loneliness and came to keep you company. Truth be told, I feared you might have already taken your leave. What a pleasure it is to see you again! It’s been nigh on two years, has it not? The other lads have been wondering about you as well. I will have plenty to tell them. But after supper, of course. Mrs. Burns?”
They both turned to the housekeeper, who kept smiling at Julian as she bobbed a curtsey like a debutante. “Your Graces, please make your way to the dining room. The first course should be ready.”
“You’re a madman,” Tristan muttered as he led his friend down the next hall. “There was no invitation. Have you come only for gossip?”
“Certainly not. I came to ensure that you still live. Your hiding in Scotland won’t deter me,” Julian added with a wink and an elbow to the ribs. “Truthfully, I needed to escape my aunt. Elspeth is visiting the county. I came as soon as I could.”
Tristan let out a quiet snort. “You’re still running from her, then.”
But his friend wasn’t going to be embarrassed over such a matter. He grinned as he said, “Indeed. Are you not most fortunate? Come, I’m starving. It’s been hours since tea.”
The two of them made their way to the dining room, both hungry and eager for a chance to sit. Seats were taken and drinks were served.
Tristan took a sip of his brandy and nodded to the footman bearing a tray of soup.
After his first mouthful, Julian asked him, “How are you?”
Tristan frowned at his bowl, not certain he enjoyed the leek soup. Someone had changed the recipe. “That’s the second time I’ve been asked that question this evening. How odd.”
“What’s more odd is you not answering the question. How did you answer it the first time?”
Eyeing his friend, who took the opportunity to slouch in his seat, Tristan avoided meeting his eyes. “I didn’t. The stable boy didn’treally care about the answer, and I had no cause to give him one.”
