Chapter 24
Chapter Twenty-Four
Leaving Caroline behind so he could pass the following hour with her brother was not how Tristan imagined he would spend his first afternoon as an engaged man.
But promises had been made that morning, when they had delivered their funds to Harry and given him consent to move ahead with their investment.
Tristan found James in the dining room, and together they set off for Grosvenor Square. Lord Bengard’s house was imposing, the white stone edifice tall and gleaming, wet with rain.
“Are you certain you wish to do this? You’ve already knocked the man flat once,” Tristan asked as they mounted the steps.
James shot him a look. “I heard him talking of it in White’s. He needs to be silenced.”
“Do you have a plan?”
James clenched his jaw. “Not exactly, but I have been thinking about this moment for weeks.”
“Then I will allow you the lead. I am here for whatever aid I can give.”
James scrubbed a hand over his face. “Thank you.”
They lifted the knocker and waited for the butler to permit them inside. Bengard was home, but needed a moment before he could meet them.
They filed into a pale yellow room with red and gold accents.
The tall, regal drapes were done in the French style, and the groupings of furniture hardly filled the space.
It was easy to see what Kitty liked about the man—she would have been a viscountess and lived in a veritable palace.
If his London house was so grand, his estate must have been enormous.
Footsteps came down the corridor, and the men exchanged a glance. It was time.
Bengard strolled in, his dark brows like slashes above his deep-set eyes. He was elegantly attired as though prepared to go out, and he carried a walking stick. “Whitby. Shepherd. What can I do for you?”
James inhaled. “I’ve come on a matter of honor.”
“Oh, dash it all. If you’ve come here to throw your glove at me, it won’t do. I’ve never once looked at your sister.”
James clenched his teeth. “As a matter of fact, it has nothing at all to do with Caro. I’ve recently become engaged to Kitty Fielding.”
Bengard grew stiff. His hand shifted atop the walking stick. “What does she have to do with anything?”
“You know very well.” James took a step closer. “I believe you still have the marking of my fist on your cheekbone just there.”
“Vauxhall?” Bengard’s eyes flashed. “It might be I who throws a glove today.”
“No one will enter into any duels,” James retorted. “I’ve only come to lay a warning in your ear. If so much as one more word is spoken about that night, I will be certain to inform the ton who laid you flat.”
James waited, but Bengard said nothing. He merely stood with his lips pressed together, seething.
“I know you have something of a reputation at Jackson’s saloon. Heard it from your brother-in-law myself while we were boxing. You wouldn’t want it known you were flattened in one easy hit by a man half your age.”
“Half! That is quite enough,” Bengard said. “You may see yourselves out.”
“Have I made myself clear?” James asked. He was barely a decade younger than the man, but clearly more fit. His threat wasn’t grand, but he only wanted Bengard to know he would not hesitate to do it again, should the need arise—should the man not cease to hold his tongue.
There was a beat of silence. Bengard looked poised to strike, anger evident on his face. Tristan held his breath, ready to come to James’s aid should he need it.
“Quite clear,” Bengard said. His attention shifted to Tristan. “Though I suppose that means Miss Whitby is fair sport? A pretty little figure, she has. Wouldn’t mind trying my hand—”
He could not finish his thought before Tristan had closed the space between them and sent him sprawling with a smart knock across the face.
The very idea of Bengard thinking about Caroline had sent such fury through him, he acted without consideration.
He and James stood looking down at the viscount, Tristan’s hand stinging as though he had tried to shove it through a stone wall.
James looked at him. “Hadn’t expected that.”
“Nor I,” Tristan muttered.
James clapped him on the shoulder. “My sister is in good hands.”
“A broken hand, perhaps.”
“Don’t fear. The pain will abate.”
Tristan shook his head, trying to bend his knuckles, but stopped at once.
When they returned to their carriage, James slumped against the seat. “What do you say to a quick stop at White’s? I could use a drink.”
Tristan was eager to return to Caroline, but he relented. Shaking out his hand, he waited for the stinging to ebb. It would be good to be done with the pain before seeing her again. “A quick one.”
James had his drink, and they made a quick visit to Marblegate before returning to the Whitbys’ house. They found their mothers seated together in the parlor, Kitty and Caroline opposite them, deep in conversation about the best time and place to host the weddings.
A tea tray sat untouched on the table between them all.
“Have you finished your business?” Mrs. Whitby asked once the women noticed them.
“Yes.” James took the chair beside Kitty and breathed out heavily.
Tristan sat on the sofa beside his mother, across from Caroline, placing a paper-wrapped parcel on his lap. They shared a look, and he imagined she wanted to have the room to themselves quite as much as he did.
“Lovely. We’ve been meaning to discuss the weddings, but we keep finding ourselves distracted.”
“Where is Father?” James asked.
Mrs. Whitby gestured toward the door vaguely. “With Mr. Shepherd in the study.”
“Is there anything you would like our help with?” Tristan asked.
Kitty nodded. “The two of you may plan the honeymoons.”
“Leave the weddings to our mothers,” Caroline agreed.
“You will know best how to move forward, Deborah,” Mrs. Whitby said. “You’ve only just had a wedding in the family.”
“Charles and Marie’s event was a…a rather fast affair.” Mother glanced at Tristan, then away. “We shall do things a little differently this time.”
“Not too differently, I hope,” he argued. “I wouldn’t wish to wait too long.”
Caroline nodded. “Nor I.”
James and Kitty agreed.
“Double wedding in three weeks’ time?” James suggested.
“Make it six weeks, and we will have enough time to have the banns read and send out the notice in the papers.” Mother wrinkled her forehead in consideration. “Perhaps five.”
“Five it is,” Tristan said. Once he had Caroline’s attention, he lifted his eyebrows. “May I speak to you for a moment, Caro?”
“Certainly.” She stood, smoothing her hands down the front of her gown.
He ignored the heavy stares from both of their mothers.
They crossed the room and sat together on the window seat on the far side of the parlor.
The drapes fell over his arm, so he pushed them further aside and turned to face Caroline.
She was perched primly on the edge of the cushion, her hands clasped lightly in her lap.
Her chin pointed up slightly, and he wanted to pinch it lightly between his fingers and lay his lips against hers, but there was a task that needed to be accomplished first.
Besides, they had an audience. One quick flick of his gaze toward the seating area proved their mothers were watching them closely, wide smiles adorning their faces. They were enormously pleased by this union.
“I should not ask,” Caroline said quietly, “but you would tell me if I’ve anything to worry about, yes? Your errand did not yield any meetings at dawn, I hope.”
“Nothing of the sort,” he assured her, ignoring his sore knuckles. “James wanted to see things resolved, and I think we can confidently believe matters to be firmly settled on that score.”
Her shoulders relaxed the slightest bit.
Had he known the anxiety she was feeling, he would have put her at ease immediately upon entering the room.
Her blue eyes shone in the light filtering through the window, and her lips were especially pink.
Tristan dragged his fingers along her cheekbone, moving a strand of hair back where it belonged.
Caroline gave a slight shudder, making his mouth go dry.
Stay focused, man. He inhaled. “I have something for you. I found it in a shop outside of London when I went to meet a friend some time ago.”
Caroline accepted the wrapped parcel, taking it from his hands.
She set it in her lap and untied the twine, her brows drawing together.
The paper crinkled as she peeled it back and took in the brown leather cover.
Shifting the book to read the title on the spine, she drew in a sharp breath. “Tristan.”
“Yes?”
“Pride and Prejudice by A Lady.” She glanced at him. “This must have cost you a small fortune. Three volumes!”
“Do you like it?”
She lifted the first volume, holding it against her chest. “I love it. Thank you.”
“Someday we shall have an entire library at your disposal.”
“It is not entirely necessary while I have a circulating library nearby, but I would never be opposed to being surrounded by books.”
Tristan leaned closer. “I will never be opposed to the expression on your face when you look at books.”
Caroline let out a surprised laugh. “You wretch. However will I repay you?”
“My love is not transactional.” He looked up, narrowing his eyes as though contemplating the matter. “But I will never refuse a quiet moment with you alone.”
“Is that not what we have right now?”
He shot a meaningful look toward their family. “No. We are decidedly not alone right now.”
Caroline’s smile widened. “I will properly thank you the next time we are, Tristan.”
His chest grew tight with anticipation at the mention. Her attention returned to the books as she opened the cover of the first volume and ran her fingers lovingly over the title page.
Tristan could not wait to make Caroline his bride and share a life with her. He settled into the moment and felt as though everything had come about all right in the end, after all.