Evelyn’s eyes narrowed slightly, though amusement lingered at the corner of her mouth. “Hamish is in America, on business. And if I had to spend one more hour alone thinking of him wandering about that strange land, I would burn a hole through my brain.”
Tristan arched a brow as he buttered his bread. “It is only America.”
“Yes,” Evelyn said sweetly, “and Dante’s Inferno is only a circle.”
Tristan chuckled again, and he could have sworn he saw the faintest hint of a smile on his grandfather’s face.
Evelyn, who seemed oblivious to the reactions, gave a satisfied nod, then lifted her teacup with poise. “So I decided to see your grandfather instead. Imagine my delight to find you lurking about as well.”
Tristan smirked faintly and glanced toward the duke. “I suppose it was inevitable, was it not?”
The duke ignored the jab and continued to speak to Evelyn anyway. “Tristan is set for London tomorrow to meet my solicitor, Mr. Sedgwick.”
Tristan paused with his fork halfway to his mouth. “Sedgwick? I thought Hayes was your solicitor?”
“He was,” his grandfather responded, setting down his knife with precision. “But unfortunately, I had to drop him after his scandal.”
Tristan’s interest piqued despite himself. “What scandal?”
The duke’s expression tightened. “He was discovered in bed with a married woman.”
“What?” Evelyn asked, her fork frozen beneath her palm.
“In broad daylight, no less,” the duke continued, his voice slightly raised. “The affair could not be contained. Therefore, it was the end of Hayes’ career as a solicitor.”
Evelyn tutted, shaking her head in mock sorrow. “Poor thing.”
“Do not waste your sympathy,” the duke said sharply. “That is the price one pays for such folly.”
“I was not referring to him,” Evelyn replied smoothly. “I was referring to the woman. Imagine the indignity of having Ronald Hayes above you in the afternoon, with no darkness to shield his face.”
Tristan coughed into his napkin, laughter breaking loose despite his efforts to restrain it.
“Evelyn,” the duke snapped, though his glare held little real heat.
“Sometimes, Aunt, you cannot explain away the people you develop feelings for,” Tristan said, once he had recovered enough to speak.
Evelyn waved her hand as if brushing away a fly. “Darling, I have seen vultures more pleasant-looking than your father’s former solicitor. No one should be required to explain such a misfortune in the first place.”
Tristan gave her a sidelong smile as he reached for the ham. “Your honesty is as unyielding as ever.”
“And it keeps me young,” Evelyn said, dabbing delicately at her lips with her napkin.
Breakfast continued, and so did the small talk. The duke spoke of his meetings with other noblemen, and Tristan listened with half interest. Aunt Evelyn spoke as well, of her latest adventures, but none of their words dulled the ringing in his head. The inevitable thought of what would happen tomorrow.
He sipped his coffee and let the thoughts continue to settle deeply in his mind. All he could think of could be summed up in three words. London. Sedgwick. And a marriage looming closer. A marriage he never wanted in the first place.
***
The next morning was colder, even though rays of the rising sun were already digging past the clouds. Tristan stepped out of the manor and walked down the steps with nothing but determination in his face. He tightened the black gloves that wrapped his hand and collected a polished cane from one of the footmen who stood beside him.
“Thank you, Henry,” he said, and the footman only gave a slight bow in response.
The carriage stood waiting at the edge of the gravel drive, two dark horses stamping and snorting as the footman soothed them with a firm hand. As Tristan approached the carriage, he noticed Evelyn was already there.
She stood beside the open door, her shawl wrapped elegantly around her shoulders, and her eyes bright with the satisfaction of a woman who had much to say and all the time in the world to say it.
“Aunt Evelyn, I did not know you would be out here,” Tristan called, tightening his grip around the cane in his hand.
