Chapter 5
Chapter Five
Tristan had never found his mind so preoccupied by a woman as he had this one.
It could be argued that guilt kept Caroline at the forefront of his thoughts, but standing across from her now in Almack’s Assembly Room, just under the enormous chandelier sparkling with hundreds of candles, he was struck by her simple beauty.
He’d recalled her to be a young girl with pale skin and wide eyes, and she had grown into someone rather fetching.
He wondered why other men hadn’t snatched her up yet.
The musicians played the beginning of the song from their perch in the overhanging balcony. Music swirled, enveloping the room in the gentle swell of violins and flutes. They began to dance, taking each other by the hand high above their heads.
“You wanted to continue our conversation from earlier, I presume,” Tristan said.
He could see no other reason she would wish to elongate their time spent together, nor accept a waltz, of all dances.
Besides, he was eager to return to the topic as well.
Had she truly asked him to find her a husband?
Directly after he offered to fill that role himself?
He was unsure if that had been a genuine request or a jest.
Caroline inhaled. “You offered to help me, but my mother sees weddings in everything. If we were to continue speaking in her presence, she would twist your motivations to my benefit with the skill of a seasoned strategist.”
“I understand.” Tristan peered down into her blue eyes. “You’ll recall my mother has no other purpose than to see her sons married.”
“Charles has satisfied her, then, has he not? I had heard he was recently married.”
“Yes. She is thrilled with his union, which is why I will soon bear the brunt of her prodding letters.” He pulled a face. “My sweet mother is not subtle.”
“You do not sound overly upset about the prospect. Are you looking for a wife?”
How much of the wager should Tristan reveal to this woman? She had a sharp mind and a sense of practicality he vastly appreciated, so he imagined it would not put her off. Besides, she had already turned him down and restated how deeply she did not wish to marry him.
A man could really suffer from such abuse to his ego. It was a good thing Tristan had grown up with a brother and an entire group of good male friends. He was used to letting things roll off his back.
The process of the dance made conversation difficult for a period, and when they were away from listening ears again, Tristan dove into his explanation. “I have a wager with a group of my friends, and the last of us to marry must pay out a sum to each of the other six.”
Her eyebrows shot up. “How many of them have married?”
“Three.”
Caroline nodded, her eyes growing narrow. “Which was your true motivation for offering for me, I presume.”
“Not entirely. That was for a number of reasons, chief above all, your striking personality. But I will admit the wager was a motivating factor.”
“Hm.” Caroline pinched her lips in a flat line. Her blue eyes sparked, and Tristan could immediately sense he’d said the wrong thing.
“Listen, Miss Whit—”
“We will run out of time soon. We ought to discuss what we’ve come here for.”
He took her by the hand and raised it above her head. She looked up into his eyes as they proceeded with the dance, giving him an unblinking stare he felt clear to his toes.
“I’ve come here to dance with you,” he said.
Caroline broke the eye contact between them and released a low sigh of long-suffering, but the tinge of pink to her cheeks meant she was not immune to him. “Can we be serious?”
“I am always serious.”
“I would like to accept your offer,” she said, forging ahead.
“Which offer was that?” He was hazy on the details.
Her smile swam in his thoughts instead, clouding everything else.
The woman intrigued him. Anyone who would invite their maid’s sister to live with them out of sheer charity was worth taking notice of.
There was nothing she stood to gain from that scenario.
Tristan tried to recall what offer she could mean.
“You’d like me to speak to your brother? ”
“James won’t be of much use. If it is amenable to you, I would like your assistance in reinstating Mr. Dennison’s affections. He believed himself capable of marrying me once. I think you are right, and he can be made to feel that way again.”
Caroline was beautiful, whip-smart, and a good conversationalist. Of course Dennison would want her if he was reminded of those things.
“There is the matter of him feeling deceived,” she continued. “That is my greatest obstacle. But I think, with time, he will understand.”
Tristan’s hand tightened slightly on hers.
There was the strangest feeling in his gut, as though he didn’t like the idea of helping her win Dennison back.
Yet he could think of no valid reason for feeling that way.
There was nothing inherently wrong with the plan.
It was his fault she had lost Dennison to begin with, and Tristan owed her his assistance.
Caroline must have taken his slow response or tightened hand as hesitance, for she began to speak again. “If that feels unfair to you, I can make it worth your time.”
Well, that was intriguing. “How do you propose to do that?”
They lowered their hands, moving to the next and final portion of the dance, where they would be intermingling with other couples. She would need to speak in something of a code. “I will assist you with your similar dilemma.”
“I have lost no one,” he reminded her.
“You need to find someone if you do not wish to lose your wager, correct? I will help.”
She wanted to help him find a wife? “How?”
Caroline chewed on her bottom lip, drawing his attention there. Tristan nearly missed his queue and stumbled before dragging his attention away. He needed to pull himself together.
“I am not sure yet, but I will think on it,” she finally said.
It was good enough for Tristan. He didn’t necessarily need her help to find a wife, but perhaps she would know women he’d not yet considered.
When the song ended, she dipped in a curtsy and he lowered his torso in a bow.
When they lifted their attention to one another again, he felt a tug in his chest, which he promptly ignored.
“You have yourself a deal, Miss Whitby.”
Tristan hadn’t remained long at Almack’s, but he had made certain to take his leave of the Whitby women before departing, promising to call on them later that week.
The idea to rent a box at the theater came to him in a fit of madness, and he saw to the arrangements before dispatching a letter inviting Caroline, James, and their mother to accompany him.
He scheduled a dinner at the Clarendon following the entertainment and was gratified the following day when a note was delivered accepting the invitation.
It had been written by Caroline, evidently, for the final line was a post script.
I hope our acceptance does not cause you to swoon.
Tristan chuckled to himself a few days later as he tied a fresh cravat in preparation for the evening.
He’d never been overly anxious to attend the theater, but the last few days had passed in steadily increasing anticipation.
When he brought round his carriage to fetch his guests, he didn’t need to travel far, for Berkeley Square was only a few streets away from his house.
“Didn’t take you to be a fan of the theater,” James said, waiting outside while his mother climbed into the carriage. “Thought you were more of a sporting man.”
Tristan didn’t intend to reveal that he had felt it would be a good avenue to spend time with Caroline so they could discuss their plans. James would think it meant something entirely different than the harmless evening he’d intended it to be.
“I love the theater,” Caroline said, passing both men and putting her gloved hand in Tristan’s. “Surely you must have remembered.”
Had he? Perhaps in the recesses of his mind that fact had laid dormant, but he had not actively recalled it when making his plans. It was as good a reason as any.
He helped her up into the carriage, both women sitting on the forward-facing bench, and the men taking the opposite.
“I’ve had a letter from your mother, Mr. Shepherd,” Mrs. Whitby said once the carriage rolled down the road, the cobbles under the wheels jostling them gently. “She told me of Charles’s new wife. Have you had the opportunity to meet her?”
“Only once, and it was very brief. I’m eager to spend more time in conversation with her. I leave tomorrow for Surrey for that very purpose.”
Caroline looked at him swiftly. “How long will you be gone?”
“I’m not sure yet.”
Was she disappointed? The words hung in the air between them until James broke the silence. “You will call to let us know when you’ve returned, I hope. I had a plan in mind for us.”
“Yes, I should like that.”
The conversation shifted to the play, Othello, they would be watching at the theater that evening.
When they arrived and filed onto the steps of the theater, Mrs. Whitby immediately took her son’s arm, leaving Tristan to offer an elbow to Caroline.
She took it, laying her graceful, gloved hand over his arm.
Her burgundy cape covered her gown until they stepped inside, where he helped her remove it and leave it at the door.
The stunning white gown she wore cut close to her figure and was in such opposition to her dark hair as to make it deep and warm. Her blue eyes watched his reaction, and she lifted an eyebrow. “You flirt with your eyes as well as with your tongue, Tristan. Do you do it with intent?”
That was not flirting. It was raw appreciation, but he had a feeling she would not believe him. “Shall we?” he said instead.
She took his arm again as he led the group toward the stairs where their box was situated.