Page 93 of Lord of Temptation
He nodded. “He seems rather uninteresting to me.”
“Little you know. He is a man of many facets. He’s working to better those less fortunate.”
“Well then, he’s a saint, isn’t he?”
“Don’t mock him. At least he’s doing something larger than himself.”
“You admire that.”
“I do. Rather a lot actually.”
“We should discuss this further. Meet me in the garden three dances from now.”
Glancing around, she saw her brother dancing with Lady Hermione. They were both watching her and Tristan rather than each other. She was surprised they didn’t crash into someone. “Now that my brothers know you’re here they’ll be watching my every move.”
“Then I’ll make certain they see me leave through the front door.”
“You’re very good at these games. I don’t want to think about how often you’ve played them.”
“You’re not a game to me.”
“What am I then, Tristan?”
“I don’t bloody well know. I only know that I have a desperate desire to be on the sea, but my ship remains in port and I am where I would rather not be.”
She couldn’t help but smile. “You sound so terribly unhappy about it.”
“Disgusted actually. I’m accustomed to going where I want to go when I want to go. Yet here I am, floundering in indecision. So meet me in the garden. Or would you rather I crawl in through your window?”
Both, she thought. Whatever was wrong with her? Prolonging their time together would only cause heartache. Still, she heard herself say, “The third dance from now.”
Tristan was in the hallway headed for the door when he heard, “Why did you bid on her and not on me?”
With a deep sigh he came to an abrupt halt and turned around. “Hermione.”
The disappointment in her eyes was enough to make him regret that he wasn’t the man she wished he was.
“I sent word to you about this affair because I wanted you to come and bid on me. Lady Chetwyn had told my mother what she planned.”
And he had come hoping Anne would be here. Not so much to stake a claim, but to ensure that no one else did. It was the reason he’d remained in the shadows until he knew for certain that she was in attendance. If she hadn’t been, he’d planned to slip quietly away.
“Lord Jameson bid on you.”
“Thirty pounds. Not a thousand. A thousand forher? Why?”
That was the question, wasn’t it? The one he couldn’t answer, even to himself.
She took a step nearer, tears welling in her eyes. “I love you.”
“You can’t love me, Hermione. You don’t know me.”
“I would do anything for you.”
Then leave me be.
“Then find your happiness with someone else. I’ll be setting sail soon, and God knows when I’ll be back. You would have a lot of lonely nights, sweetheart.” Why would he use that argument with her, yet deny it as consequential when Anne made the same point?
“I don’t care. I’ll wait faithfully just as I’ve done these two years.”
