Page 85 of Lord of Temptation
Brooding, Tristan sat alone in Sebastian’s study, slowly sipping good whiskey and staring at the portrait above the fireplace. It was late. The house was quiet. He supposed he should go to Rafe’s for a bit of sport, but he’d had enough of games for the day.
Once Lady Hermione had latched onto him, he’d been unable to shake her. He didn’t want to hurt her but she was becoming quite the nuisance. Not that he’d listened much to what she’d had to say. Instead his mind had drifted off to a lazy afternoon when he’d been fishing with his father. He’d been happy. That’s what he’d been unable to tell Anne. Standing beside his father, he’d known contentment. A month later he’d been running for his life, and he’d not experienced that sort of contentment again until he’d been standing beside Anne on his ship.
What was it about her that made her different from every other woman?
Hearing the door open he glanced over and watched as Sebastian strode toward him with the confidence of a duke. He’d once used Sebastian as a mirror, but now they were far too different, and it had little to do with the scars that puckered their flesh.
His brother was settled with a wife and son. He had his estates. He was again in possession of his titles. He was where he would have been had they never been forced to leave everything behind. Yet it wasn’t the same. It occurred to him only now that Sebastian and Mary should have been at that blasted and utterly boring garden party.
Sebastian stopped by the cherrywood cabinet and generously filled a tumbler with whiskey before taking the chair across from Tristan. “You were awfully quiet during dinner.”
“Did Mary send you down to prod me for answers?”
“She was a bit concerned.”
Tristan ran his finger around the lip of his glass. “I attended an affair at Fayrehaven’s this afternoon. Croquet, little pastry delicacies that would hardly fill a boy much less a man, and nothing stronger than champagne.”
Sebastian arched a brow. “Are you courting Lady Hermione?”
“God no! Can you truly see me with such a flighty chit?”
Sebastian studied him intently for a moment. It was disconcerting to realize that even with his solitary eye he could probably see more clearly than Tristan. “Someone, though. Do you want to talk about her?”
Tristan shook his head. “No.”
What he had with Anne was between them, and while he knew his brother wasn’t one to gossip, Tristan wasn’t ready to give voice to his thoughts where she was concerned. He couldn’t quite sort them out. He should be back at sea by now, and yet here he remained in dismal London.
“Whoever she is, was she the reason for your lapses into silence during the meal?”
“No, I ... I spoke with Lord Chetwyn for a bit this afternoon. He mentioned his father fishing at Pembrook. I’d forgotten about that—the fishing.” And his father guiding his hands, teaching him how to properly bait the hook, to cast his line...
Sebastian’s lips rose on one side, the other too burdened with scars. “The pond is still there, the fish still abundant. You should come for an extended visit, longer than it takes to bury a man anyway. Mary is quite pleased with the new residence.”
Two years ago he’d ridden by Pembrook on his way to the abbey ruins where he was supposed to meet with his brothers to begin their quest to reclaim their birthright. He’d returned to see his uncle buried at the village church. He’d had no desire to linger. Pembrook was not where he called home.
“Did you tear the old one down?” With crenellated walls and towers, it was more castle than manor.
“No. I had planned to but Mary convinced me that it still had a purpose. She is a wise one, my Mary, so I have a tendency to heed her advice.”
“She is also a stubborn one. I suspect she’d make you pay for not doing so.”
Sebastian chuckled softly. “Yes, she would.”
Tristan downed his whiskey. “She should have been at that damned party today.”
Sebastian did little more than nod. “Acceptance will all come about in time. How long do you anticipate being here?”
“Until my business is done.”
“Your business with this lady who shall remain unnamed?”
“I have yet to tire of her.”
“That is indeed a strong endorsement for her qualities.”
Tristan heard the sarcasm in his brother’s voice, but he wasn’t offended by it. He suspected it spoke more to what was lacking in himself. “It truly is, Keswick. I’ve never had much trouble leaving before, which I fear doesn’t say much for my character.”
“Do you love her?”
