Chapter 20 #2
“Glad to hear it,” Tristan replied, ignoring the questions filling his mind. “How are you feeling now?”
“Still foxed,” Alistair admitted between bites, “But I have a better hold of my wits now. Apologies for the horrid display earlier. It is a wonderful watch, though.”
Tristan forced all of his focus on his brother-in-law and offered an understanding smile.
It was hard on all of them at times, being a well-known aristocrat.
One could only be one of two things: Jolly or Enraged.
There was no room for other feelings for men of their society.
No fear or sadness was permitted to be shown.
“Do not think twice about it,” Tristan encouraged, “I am glad you enjoy the watch. And that you are having such a splendid time at your party.”
“Yes, but to keep it splendid I believe I shall withhold from sampling the rest of my presents for the evening,” Alistair replied.
Tristan chuckled and nodded his head.
“Probably a wise choice,” he said as Alistair took the last bite of his cake.
“Should we get you another slice?” He then asked.
“I think I shall need at least another three before I soak up the distillery that is in my belly,” Alistair said in way of agreement, “Come, you must try it. It is delicious.”
Tristan followed his brother toward the large cake, where slices of it were already laid out on Theo’s fine China plates along with silver forks. He picked one up as Theo came to join them, and for a moment the three of them chatted gaily on how well the party was going.
However, when Theo leaned up to whisper something in her husband’s ear and the giant of a man blushed, Tristan rolled his eyes as he turned away; not wanting to know what other sort of celebration his sister had in store for her husband.
He picked up his fork, ready to take his first bite of the cake, when suddenly the plate disappeared from his hands.
“Lord Perfect,” Ophelia purred, sending goosebumps down his arms as he looked up at her, “You retrieved a slice of cake for me? How so very polite of you.”
Tristan smirked as a surprising shot of joy sparked in his heart.
“You know me, chivalrous at all times,” he replied sarcastically.
Ophelia laughed, nearly choking on a bite of the cake she’d just stolen from him.
“Oh yes,” she answered with equal sarcasm, “All times.”
Normally such an innuendo would have Tristan chastising her, but this time it only made his grin grow wider.
“Where is your suitor?” He could not help but tease, “Is he not supposed to be obtaining your sweets for you?”
Ophelia gave a careless shrug as she sliced off another bite of cake, her eyes on her plate.
“Apparently he had to go. Some sort of business matter,” she replied.
Tristan raised a curious brow, but felt another shot of glee at her unbothered tone.
“A nine o’clock in the evening?” He questioned.
She looked up at him, her eyes narrowing slightly as her tip of her tongue slipped out of catch the tiniest bit of icing from her lip. The small movement caused his manhood to stir to life in his trousers, and he immediately lost interest in Weavington’s whereabouts.
“You have plenty of business of handle at this time of night most of the time,” she countered.
Tristan smirked as he took a step closer.
“Ah yes,” he said in a quiet voice, “But we both know what that business is about, don’t we?”
Pleasure surged through him as he watched Ophelia’s pink cheeks turn crimson, and she darted her eyes back down to her cake. Tristan’s smirk grew into a satisfied smile and he glanced up, taking in the multiple people nearby. He decided that his teasing would have to wait for another time.
“How is your father doing?” He asked, changing the subject.
Ophelia’s expression grew a little more somber, and he felt his heart twist in a surprising bout of empathy.
“His improvements have been frustratingly slow” Ophelia said with a sigh.
“Though he is able to get out of bed for a couple of hours a day now. So I suppose I should be thankful for that. Mr. Grimes insists he uses a cane now, though, and the sight is…” she paused, sighing as she picked at her cake with her cake.
“I knew my father was getting older,” she murmured on, “But seeing him with a cane is difficult. He always seemed so strong before."
“My sincerest apologies,” Tristan offered, his tone sincere.
He waited for Ophelia to express her doubt of his sincerity, but to his surprise she only thanked him for his concern.
“He is at least not fading,” Ophelia went on, fiddling with her fork, “He is quite determined to see me wedded and with child before he lets go. Part of me believes that I should hold out on marriage forever, just so that he will fight longer.”
Tristan let out a dry chuckle, then both of them looked up as a bout of mirthful laughter came from Theo.
Alistair was by her side, a hand wrapped around her waist as the other was bringing a forkful of cake to her mouth.
Their foreheads were pressed together, their eyes fixed on each other as they smiled.
“They truly do make marriage and children look as if it will not be all that bad,” Ophelia noted.
“Oh, they make me sick,” Tristan retorted. Ophelia laughed and poked his hand playfully with her fork.
“Oh, come, even you have to admit they are perfect together,” she goaded.
“Yes,” he sighed in resignation, “With that I must agree. Even their parenting skills are perfect. Their children are lucky.”
“Mine will be too,” Ophelia said matter-of-factly, then helped herself to another bite of cake.
Tristan raised an amused brow.
“Oh, will they now?” He asked.
“Oh, yes. I will raise wild daughters who never have to brush their hair or wear skirts if they do not wish to. They will be heathens bent on disrupting society and I will love them all the more for it,” she replied.
Tristan let out a genuine laugh, the image forming readily in his mind.
“And if you have boys?” He asked.
Ophelia made a face as she shook her head.
“Oh, no, the good Lord knows better than to give me boys,” she replied, “He will give me daughters and that is that.”
“And if your husband wants a boy?” Tristan asked.
Ophelia gave another careless shrug.
“Then he will go find a woman who will give him a boy,” she said plainly, surprising Tristan.
“You…would encourage your husband to infidelity?” Tristan ventured.
“It is not as if we would truly care for one another,” Ophelia said with another passive shrug. “Besides, I doubt he will want to touch me after I make myself as plump as possible. And what man would not want a wife’s blessing to dally whoever he wants?”
Tristan found himself unsure of how to answer.
He had found her amusing at first but as she went on, he felt pity begin to grow for Ophelia.
She may not be the most well-behaved woman in their society, granted, but she did seem to understand the ugly truth behind most marriages.
He just hated that she was expecting such a marriage to be hers.
The urge to protect her from such a fate came on sudden and strong, disarming him so greatly that it rendered him into silent confusion. What did he care? This woman was a menace. To society and to him!
An image conjured in his mind then, one that made his heart feel pulled in two very different directions.
He imagined being married to Ophelia and nearly groaned aloud.
Their life would be filled with arguments.
Arguments and…passion. His mind flashed to the other night.
To pleasure-riddled annoyance she had made him feel.
To the heady satisfaction he’d felt when he made her release on his tongue as payback.
“Here,” Ophelia’s voice shook him from his reverie. He glanced back at up at her and saw that she had replaced the plate in her hand with a flute of champagne. A second one rested in the grip of her other hand and was extended to him.
“You look as if you could use this,” Ophelia said, nudging the offered glass toward him.
“God, I really do,” he murmured under his breath as he snatched it from her fingertips. He barely raised it toward her before he upended the glass and drained it of its contents.
“You on the other hand, are going to make an excellent parent. Your children will be perfect.”
Tristan choked on his champagne, barely covering his mouth in time to stop droplets of spraying over Ophelia’s face.
“I beg your pardon?” He coughed out.
Ophelia was grinning now and he scowled at her obvious pleasure of catching him off guard.
“You would,” she insisted, her tone off-puttingly kind, “We all saw the way you looked after Theo. Even before your mother passed on. She was never without your guiding hand or comfort.”
“Yes, well…she is my little sister,” he muttered, darting a glance toward Theo.
“Yes,” Ophelia agreed. “And if you are that protective and nurturing over a sibling, one can only imagine you would be even more so with your children.”
Tristan opened his mouth to argue, but his mind blanked. It was not the first time someone from his inner circle had said such things. The truth was though…he was terrified of being a father. Terrified of leaving behind children the way his parents had left him and Theo.
“Ophelia!” Seraphina called, “Would you come here, darling? Hugo and I have a favor to ask.”
“They probably want me to watch their children for another trip,” Ophelia sighed, setting down her champagne glass. “I do not know why they allow me to do so. I spoil their children rotten.”
Even though she tried to sound annoyed, Tristan could see the pure joy shining from his eyes.
“Well, have a pleasant evening, Lord Perfect,” Ophelia goaded with an impish smile.
He only nodded as he watched her walk over to Hugo and Seraphina; the three of them already laughing at something Ophelia said.
He pictured it then. Future children with Ophelia. With her overly loving hand and his overprotective one, their children would be perfectly loved and protected.
“I know you hate one another, but I do love watching you with Ophelia,” Theo said, drawing Tristan from his bewildered thought.
He turned and looked down at Theo, who was giving him the same impish smile Ophelia had.
“Why on earth would you say that?” He demanded.
Theo’s eyes softened as her smile grew wistful, and she reached up to smooth a tuft of his hair back behind his ear.
“You grew up so fast, you know,” Theo sighed.
“Having to take over the family business and title. Having to chase after me when I rebelled. You never truly got to be a boy. Yet when you are with Ophelia, this…this look takes over you. Young. Mischievous. It is like she brings out that part of you always had to tuck away.”
He looked back at Ophelia, realizing that his sister spoke the truth. It was, he understood, why his chest suddenly hurt and it felt so hard to breathe. It was because he felt free with her.
He set his glass down, and forced his eyes away from the woman he was starting to have feelings for. It did not matter. Even if he wanted he could not let go of his control. Not now. Not with Perley still out there, threatening to bring them all down.
“I do not know what you are talking about, sister,” he said, then leaned down to kiss her cheek.
“You are leaving? She asked, catching his arm as he moved to turn, “But we are just about the start playing the games!”
He gently pried his arm away from Theo’s grip as he shook his head.
“Have a wonderful time,” he encouraged, sparing one glance at Ophelia. “I, however, am done playing games.”