Page 67 of Lord of Temptation
“But sometimes necessary.” She could not—would not—believe Walter had died in vain.
“It takes a toll on a man,” Chetwyn said. “On his family, on those who love him. And on a country actually. A lot of men returned with missing limbs, unable to work.”
“I suspect they could work if people would only give them a chance.”
He gave her a small smile. “Quite right. But until they are given that chance, some are living in the gutters. I want to change that, Anne. In Walter’s memory. I want to arrange a home for soldiers where they can stay until they get back on their feet.”
“Oh, Chetwyn.” Without thinking, she placed her hand over his where it rested on his thigh and squeezed. “What a lovely idea.”
He turned his hand over, threaded his fingers through hers. “I’m arranging a ball, with help from Mother, of course. Only a select few shall be invited as we’ll solicit monetary contributions. A crass endeavor in one way, but I feel I must do something.”
“I think it’s an exceedingly generous undertaking.”
He held her gaze. “May I feel free to seek your advice on certain matters?”
“By all means. I would love to be involved.”
“I feared it might make things more difficult for you. I know you’re striving to move on.”
“Moving on doesn’t include forgetting.”
“My brother was exceedingly fortunate to have you in his life. I don’t believe I received a single letter from him that didn’t mention you. Although I have to confess that even without his assurances, I knew you were extraordinary.”
She wondered if she was blushing as deeply as he was. “You’re too kind.”
“Hardly.”
She tried to imagine what it would be like to gaze across a room every evening and see his face, to hold the majority of her conversations with him, to have him kiss her. She was fairly certain it would all be comforting enough. Pleasant even. She would have no surprises, no—
Her eyes widened as she caught sight of Tristan sitting astride a beautiful ebony horse, trotting toward her. He looked as magnificent as she’d imagined. Did any setting exist in which his mere presence didn’t dominate? It was as though the lovely park suddenly became smaller, insignificant. As though—
“Anne?”
She looked at Chetwyn, his furrowed brow, his concern. “I’m sorry. I became distracted.”
Then as though her attention had become metal shavings and Tristan were a magnet, she was again gazing past Chetwyn.
“I see,” he muttered and ordered his driver to draw the carriage to a halt.
She wasn’t certain if that was good or bad. It would certainly make it easier to speak with Tristan, but it would also make it easier forhimto speak and she dreaded what he might say, how he might insinuate an intimacy between them.
He brought his horse to a halt on her side of the carriage, even though it meant going around the contraption and confirming that his interest was in her. He swept his beaver hat from his head and bowed slightly, his ice blue eyes glittering with a possessiveness that she wanted to deny. “Lady Anne.”
She wished they were in the country so they could go galloping over the rolling hills together. She wished she hadn’t felt a need to be polite and accept Chetwyn’s offer to accompany her. She wished she understood this excitement that thrummed through her simply because Tristan was near enough to breathe the same air as she. “Lord Tristan, what a pleasant surprise.”
What in the world was wrong with her voice? She sounded like a pesky little dormouse.
“Surprise indicates that you weren’t expecting me. Did I not make clear that I would join you at the park?”
She stopped breathing, waiting in horror for him to reveal exactly when they had the conversation, but apparently even he realized that would be a step too far and would neatly slice her reputation to ribbons. With her worry dissipating, her anger sparked. She’d not have him playing games with her in public that would serve only to start tongues wagging. “During our dance I recall mentioning, offhandedly, that I would be riding this afternoon. I expected to be alone. Instead Lord Chetwyn was kind enough to give me the pleasure of his company.” Ignoring the tightening of Tristan’s jaw, she turned to her traveling companion. “Lord Chetwyn, allow me to introduce—”
“I’ve had the privilege.” He spoke the last word as though it left a bitter taste in his mouth.
She’d never heard him speak so succinctly, and realized he was no happier than Tristan. “Oh, I see. Of course.”
Tristan’s gaze dropped to her lap. No, not hers. Chetwyn’s. Her hand was still entangled with his. She wanted to snatch hers free, but he closed his fingers so tightly around them that they were beginning to go numb. To separate them now would do little more than cause a scene.
“A lovely day isn’t it?” she offered.
