He had done something right only moments ago.
Tristan felt like an absolute ape. Maybe he should have let her keep talking, but it was too late for that.
“No.” Verity straightened up suddenly with a sharp smile that cut him in half. He couldn’t look away. “No, I don’t wish to go. I’ve apparently said more than enough. I only came to-to ensure that you were well.”
“I am. I came in here for peace and quiet.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Of course. Very well, I shall leave you to it.”
Off she went to the door. Tristan hesitated before following her. Perhaps he could explain some more, after all. Having her leave him twice in one evening didn’t bode well. He didn’t want this to happen. He didn’t want to have a repeat of the past.
Why can I not get her out of my head?
“Wait, Verity. Please.”
He winced as the door slammed shut. An uneasy silence fell over the room. The candlelight flickered.
Tristan sighed. Now he was alone in there, just like he had wished.
Only it seemed his wish was changing, though he didn’t know how just yet. He collapsed onto the sofa and rubbed his face.
Their encounter had left him more out of sorts than he had been before finding her there. Why had she even come to him? Nowhe might never know. She might very well never talk to him again.
Although he knew he shouldn’t have interrupted her, he hadn’t thought she’d take it so seriously. Or perhaps she thought he meant?—
“Blast it,” he muttered and rose to start pacing. “I’ll make amends on the ride home. That’s what I’ll do.”
He stewed over the matter for several minutes before taking a short turn about the smoking room. For once he found the smoke too much for him and the taste too bitter, and thus he reluctantly made his way back to the ballroom.
Perhaps Verity has grown tired and is ready to go home. Though I suppose I could take my leave and send the carriage back to her. It would be the honorable thing to tell her in person.
Tristan didn’t make it far before someone tugged at his elbow, pulling him back to a corner. He stiffened and then glowered upon finding his friend there, smirking as he tousled his hair.
“What are you doing here, Ashcombe?”
“Favor to one of my cousins. She has debuted this Season. But the right question is, what are you doing here, so far away from your wife?”
Something about his words caught Tristan’s attention. “What were you doing with her?”
“What? Good Lord, man. Do you have no faith in me? I’d never dally with another man’s wife. Well, not yours.” Julian winked. “No, we merely enjoyed a dance earlier. She’s a very fine dancer, but I’m sure you already know that.”
“Certainly,” Tristan forced out.
“Then go on. Dance with her.”
Wrinkling his nose at the crowd, Tristan replied, “Another evening. I’m sure she has a full dance card. And I was told that it is very unfashionable to dance with one’s own wife.”
Julian snatched a glass of champagne from a passing tray. He downed half of it before arching an eyebrow at his friend. “Tristan, you’ve never cared for conventions.”
“Perhaps I should if I’m in London,” Tristan grumbled.
“Don’t be ridiculous. You should be creating fodder for gossip, not listening. It’d be a much better use of your time. Now, stop your groaning and go find your wife. She’s a charming lady. Marriages among the ton are not always perfect—we all know this. And I do mean that every gentleman knows this.”
“I know.” Tristan scanned the crowd in search of his wife, wondering if she was indeed dancing. But feeling his friend’sgaze on him, he heard the words again in his head and reared back. “Ashcombe, don’t be ridiculous. You cannot insinuate that she would look elsewhere.”
Julian drained his glass and motioned for a servant nearby. “I’m not saying anything. But one of the duties a husband has to his wife is to keep her happy. At least, that’s what my uncle says. So, are you keeping her happy?”
“She is… content,” Tristan said, before thinking of the conversation they had only an hour ago.
