Chapter 10
ten
For the second time in a row, Tristan had failed to talk with Winchester. For the second time in a row, he’d been distracted by Effie’s radiance and spectacular eyes.
After the ball, he had trouble focusing on anything that wasn’t sitting and staring at the fire.
Alone in his warm study, he wondered what the hell had happened that night.
He’d blabbered about his family for no reason, but seeing her sweet, kind eyes, he’d known she wouldn’t judge him or dismiss him. Still, he’d talked too much.
It was the first time he’d lacked the focus and determination to complete a task. The first mistake had been dancing with her. It’d been a decision made on the spur of the moment, not to annoy Winchester. He didn’t care about petty teases. He wasn’t that cold-hearted.
Effie had looked so beautiful in her dark red gown and flushed cheeks that he’d ceded to the temptation of holding her for a moment. And he loved how she stood up to him.
And then there was her kindness—the most dangerous and attractive of her qualities.
He put a hand on his stained shirt over his sore flesh. She’d given him stitches. He chuckled, feeling them pulling at his flesh. A beautiful, excellent veterinary doctor had attended to his cut.
He could have easily told her not to bother and sent for his physician although Dr. O’Neil would have asked too many questions. But the truth was he’d wanted her to do it. His skin tingled with the memory of her gentle fingers and fast chatter.
His family had made quite a few enemies in the past years.
Between Grandfather’s mistakes and Father’s aggressive economic expansion, the other peers didn’t exactly sing the Montcrests’ praise.
He didn’t care about that either. He didn’t give a damn about what the others thought of him.
He only cared about his family’s finances and the tenants depending on it.
But Effie had made him realise how much he was used to being treated with coldness at best and disdain at worst.
She’d revealed a side of him he didn’t like. A part of him craved simple social relationships. It would be good to chat with his friends at the club and enjoy a ball without ulterior motives, like a normal person would.
He exhaled when someone knocked on his door. Not George again. “Come in.”
The door was pushed inwards, and Rowan peeped inside. “May I? Uncle George is here as well.”
“Of course.” He buttoned his jacket to cover the blood.
Explaining the injury to Dr. O’Neil would be difficult but explaining it to Rowan would be impossible.
George followed Rowan inside, his gaze immediately falling on Tristan’s abdomen as if he knew. “Was the ball productive?”
“We’ll talk about that tomorrow.” He was too tired to discuss business strategy. “Why are you still up?” he asked Rowan.
“I couldn’t sleep, and I played Ludo with Uncle George.”
George’s facial muscles relaxed as he ruffled Rowan’s hair. “He won. Three games in a row.”
“The secret is how I throw the dice.” Rowan mimicked the gesture of tossing the dice.
They laughed together as old companions.
A pang of loneliness struck him. He was happy Rowan had a good relationship with George, but he’d spent hours working side by side with George and had never developed anything but a strained friendship.
Business had always got between them. Different views, decisions, and the business strategies of two stubborn men weren’t the best premises for a smooth friendship.
“It’s late. I’d better leave.” George hugged Rowan fondly. “And you need to talk to your brother.”
“Thank you, Uncle George.” Rowan squeezed him tightly, and suddenly Tristan felt like a stranger invited to a family dinner.
After they exchanged a few laughs and private jokes, George opened the door and started to leave. “We’ll talk soon, Tristan.”
“I’m sure we will.”
George closed the door behind him, and the atmosphere in the room became heavy as if a pea soup fog had descended.
“Is something the matter?” he asked.
Rowan shuffled forwards in his dressing gown. “I wanted to ask you something.”
“Ask away.”
Rowan chewed his bottom lip and twisted the belt of the dressing gown.
Tristan rubbed his temples. “If you’re waiting for me to read your thoughts, we can stay here forever.”
Rowan nodded and cleared his throat. No words came out of his mouth.
“Why are you so frightened of me?” He wished his tone sounded less intimidating, but hell, Rowan needed to become more determined.
At his age, Tristan had already been working with Father, travelling with him across the country and doing the combined chores of a farmer, secretary, and manservant while George had put his business expertise at their disposal.
Rowan flinched. “It can wait.” He turned around and started towards the door.
“Rowan.”
The boy stopped and faced him.
“I don’t mean to frighten you. What is it?” He forced his tone down.
“I want to ask Lady Effie to come tomorrow,” Rowan whispered.
A little shot of energy went through him, which annoyed him. He might not see her tomorrow, even if she agreed to see Rowan.
“And?” he asked.
“Is it all right?” Rowan regarded him from underneath the curtain of his golden curls.
“Yes, why wouldn’t it be?”
Rowan fiddled with his hands. Tristan waited for an answer, but aside from shivering and tormenting his hands, Rowan didn’t say anything else.
“I’m glad you like her and that you’re making friends,” he went on to encourage him. “I didn’t know you wanted to become a veterinarian.” That had surprised him, but he hadn’t wanted to show his shock in front of everyone.
His half-brother remained silent.
“Rowan—”
“May I go now?” Rowan stared at the carpet.
“Yes, you may.” He threw a hand up.
Rowan ran out of the study before Tristan could say more. His half-brother was terrified to death of him, and he had no idea what to do to change that.
Effie tried to hide behind her cup of tea as she was having breakfast with her father. Her dancing with Tristan had caused quite a stir, and Papa had given her a hard time with his questions.
“Did Montcrest say something about me?” he asked.
She buttered her slice of bread. “The answer isn’t going to change after you ask me the same question for the fifth time. No, he didn’t.”
“But you must have talked about something.” He folded and unfolded his copy of The Times.
“I told you. It was a normal chit-chat.” Aside from Tristan’s heartbreaking story about his family and his obvious loneliness. “Nothing to do with you.”
“I don’t understand why you don’t want to tell me the truth.”
Pepper stopped chewing his rubber ball to stare at him.
She put the knife down. “Honestly, am I at Scotland Yard now?”
“He rushed out of the room, seemingly in distress, and you went after him. I noticed that.” He tapped the table nervously. “There. I didn’t want to mention that, not to embarrass you. But you gave me no choice.”
She tried to remain deadpan. “He didn’t feel too well all of a sudden and left. I simply followed him to make sure he was all right. That’s all.”
“His health shouldn’t concern you.”
Oddly enough, that was what Tristan had said.
“Can’t I be worried about someone feeling sick?” she asked.
“Yes, but…why him?”
“Because I can make my own decisions, as you’ve always encouraged me to do.”
Finally, silence filled the room.
She scowled when he opened his mouth, likely for another round of questions, but the butler coming in saved her from an argument.
“My lady, this is for you.”
“Thank you, Doyle.” She opened the small envelope, and a little flutter started in her chest when she saw the emboldened golden M at the top of the paper.
Dear Lady Effie,
I hope you will see me today to go to the stables with me.
I’m eager to become a veterinarian like you.
Lord Rowan.
She smiled at the simple request. Rowan’s enthusiasm and curiosity were touching, and she would encourage him gladly.
“What is it?” Papa used his interrogation tone again.
She rose to go to the small table to pick up a pen. “I’m going out today.”
“For what reason?”
She wrote her reply on the back of the letter. “Doyle, would you please make sure this is delivered soon?”
He bowed his head and left.
“What is it?” Papa closed a fist around his knife. “Is it him?”
Rebellious traits had never been in her character.
Her eldest sister was the rebel of the family after she’d secretly studied nursing science and paved the way for her younger sisters to do what they wanted.
Yet Papa’s tone and commanding attitude—a novelty—urged her to get closer to Tristan, instead of obeying him.
“Papa, please. No, it’s not a message from Lord Montcrest, but from his brother, Lord Rowan.”
“I hope you aren’t seeing him?”
The more he ordered her to keep her distance from Tristan, the more she wanted to see him.
She stood. “Lord Rowan is a thirteen-year-old boy, Papa. He is very sweet and well mannered. I certainly want to see him.”
“Effie, don’t challenge me on this.”
“I’ll follow your warning and not get involved in your business, but I want to see the boy. I won’t be rude to him only because you have a quarrel with his brother.”
He dropped the napkin on the table. “I don’t understand your attitude. You’ve always been so reasonable.”
“Funny, but I was about to say the same thing.” She left the dining room before he could order her to stay.