After returning from the chapel, Tristan decided to take a walk to clear his mind. But now he found himself raising an eyebrow at his friend, who stood in the middle of the path.
“I cannot believe that if you are still here. We already said our farewells.”
Overhead, the sky was growing drearier by the hour. It had yet to rain properly. Just a drizzle here and there. The ‘almost’ aspect was beginning to make his nose itch. Why couldn’t it simply rain or clear up?
If only mankind could control the skies. But then where would we stop before reaching the heavens? What a bane of an existence this is.
Up came Julian to distract him.
Tristan supposed that was for the best, since his mood was rather morose. He didn’t usually feel unease like this unless something particularly awful had happened.
I suppose that a wedding is not meant to be awful. Even a second wedding. And yet…
“Yes, but you know I adore surprises and attention. Besides, I nearly forgot my horse. I left him in your stables. They’re preparing him now, and then I’ll be on my way. Nosy aunts and cousins complaining about one illness or another will always have me turning my head all the way around. But what a perfect opportunity it is for me to check on you.”
Tristan stopped. He squinted, tilting his head as he wondered if that was the truth. “We already talked.”
Julian nodded with a cheery grin. “Yes, but you hardly said a word, and that doesn’t count for a conversation. Honestly, Tristan, you should know better by now. And now that you’re back home with your new wife, I wanted to see how you two are getting on.”
The two of them glanced back at the manor as though they were expecting Verity to appear and join them. Tristan was relieved that she did not.
If Verity did join them out here, then they would have to speak to one another. And he would not know what to say in that instance. They did not know each other well enough for casual conversation. A skill like that required years of practice.
Good Lord, that will happen if I don’t do something about it beforehand.
At least he could clear his conscience now about his tenants, that being the entire reason he had come down here in the first place.
His wife was a decent negotiator. Confident and unyielding. They had discussed when the wedding would take place—getting the special license to wed earlier than the usual three-week minimum for the reading of the banns had been much easier than any conversation with her—as well as what would cross over into his hands once wed.
“Legally speaking,” Verity had said to him, “as my husband, you will have rights over everything I have and am. But I am not willing to ask you for pin money. And I want to keep responsibility over as much as possible.”
Not her aunt, as he had assumed.
Verity had explained that Lady Wetherby had her own money and had stayed put all this time for her. She had been too stubborn and proud to accept a farthing from her.
Tristan had heard her demands before finally nodding. “I want copies of every document. One for my steward and one for my records. We’ll need everything confirmed. If you need a second steward, you only have to ask. And should you need anything for yourself or our tenants, you’re welcome to use mine or the estate’s resources.”
That had caught her by surprise. “I won’t need anything.”
“But your tenants will. Do you intend to leave them struggling merely because you don’t wish to take advantage of what will also be yours?” he had asked, pointing out that she would gain more out of this marriage.
It must not have occurred to Verity. She had scowled for a short spell, pausing to think the matter through.
Watching her get lost in thought had given Tristan a moment to study her. She was thoughtful and intelligent. Stubborn, too, however, and could easily become a problem should she demand too much from him.
But if he gave her enough money and kept her busy with her own affairs, perhaps this time he would be safe from the woman he called ‘wife.’
“Very well,” she had eventually agreed. “And you won’t stand in my way?”
“So long as you do not stand in my way,” he told her with a nod.
It was not exactly the marriage-related conversation Tristan had expected. When the papers had been drawn up and delivered, they had been returned to him the following morning. Clean, tiny script detailed a few requested changes, which he made without complaint, since she didn’t seem to mind access to every one of his properties.
Strange. Perhaps she doesn’t like to travel. If she wishes to stay put here, then that would certainly be ideal. Then, we could encounter one another every few years. She can manage matters here with the steward.
Yes, I think that would suffice. So long as she makes no demands on my time, my person, or my attention beyond what I have offered her.
Suddenly, his friend’s voice called, bringing him back to the present.
