Chapter 11
eleven
Morning tea and arguments were an awful combination to start the day, especially since Tristan had spent a troubled night and awakened late, not refreshed at all. He’d barely got dressed before George had ambushed him in the dining room.
“I didn’t want to bother you last night, especially not in front of Rowan, but you still haven’t talked to Winchester.” George was sitting in front of him at the table, ignoring his cup of tea and buttery scone.
Harris shifted his gaze between the two of them.
“You were supposed to talk to him last night. Did you read the newspaper?” George pointed at The Times, where Tristan’s name had made an appearance on the scandal sheet.
Nothing new. The only novelty was that, for once, they didn’t gossip about his ruthless attitude in business, but about a slow dance with a stunning lady.
His presence had drawn more attention than he’d predicted thanks to his dance with Effie.
“The anarchists planted a bomb in a train station in Birmingham,” Tristan said. “And another one at Liverpool Road Station in Manchester. They’re targeting train stations.”
George leant back. “I read about that. Awful business. But can we talk about Lord Vaughan’s ball? Why didn’t you talk to Winchester?”
He finished his tea and folded the ironed newspaper on the table. “An unforeseen difficulty happened.”
A sweet, very charming unforeseen difficulty that had shown him compassion, understanding—he sniffled, catching a whiff of a pungent smell coming from his abdomen—and iodine. Lots of iodine.
George ran a hand through his greying hair. It might be Tristan’s imagination, but since they’d started to expand their railway company, George’s grey hairs had multiplied.
“Did you go to the ring last night?” George asked in an annoyed tone.
Harris seemed about to say something but remained silent.
The last thing Tristan needed was a double sermon. He rose from the table. “As we ascertained the other night, that’s none of your business.”
George stepped in front of him. He was as tall as Tristan, and his keen gaze saw too much.
“I’m worried, and not because your fighting habit compromises your judgement in our business.
That filthy place isn’t only illegal but also dangerous.
A passing thug could stab you, kill you, and dispose of your body without anyone being the wiser.
The moment one of those crooks realises you’re a marquess, you’re as good as dead. ”
“That’s ridiculous. The Octagon is a place for boxing. That’s all. It’s safer than a gambling den because there’s no money involved.” Although he’d been stabbed the other night, but George didn’t need to know that.
“What if you get seriously injured? What if they break your spine or neck?”
He leant closer. “That’s part of the thrill.” He sidestepped George to leave the dining room, and the footman opened the door.
“Tristan!” George’s voice sounded sharp.
“What?” He didn’t turn around.
There was an exhale. “Be careful. I mean it.”
Not often did George use that kind, fatherly tone with him, and Tristan never dismissed it.
He turned around to face his father’s best friend. “I will.”
He was always bloody careful, but renouncing the ring wasn’t an option.
He walked out of the room, wishing George would understand.
Focusing on his work was easy after a good boxing session, and boxing in a boring, safe gentlemen’s club, where the opponents followed the Marquess of Queensberry Rules, didn’t do anything to silence his twitch.
The rowdy, dangerous men at The Octagon were the best cure.
The cut Effie had stitched was still a bit stiff and itched, but every time a pang bothered him, he was reminded of her. He rushed down the corridor but came to a quick stop in the hallway where footsteps sounded.
Effie and her maid gazed up at him. The surprise froze him although Rowan had told him he was going to invite her.
Effie’s smile in the morning light was exactly what his life was missing.
She was stunning in a rich-maroon gown with burgundy velvet ribbons and a matching hat.
Autumn had always been his favourite season.
Why his mind had conjured up that thought was beyond him.
“Lord Montcrest,” she said. “Good morning. I trust you are well.”
He put a hand on the stitched cut. “I am.”
Quick footsteps came from behind him. “Lady Effie, I’m here.” Rowan slowed down as he walked past Tristan. “Thank you for coming.”
“Lord Rowan, I’m glad to see you again,” she said before turning to Tristan. “I would like to see Zeus and talk to Rowan about veterinary medicine books.” She tapped the large bag she was carrying. “Are you going to join us? It would be lovely.”
Rowan shot a glance at her. Tristan could bet his brother had in mind another word instead of lovely.
He didn’t have any urgent appointments that morning. Well, not very urgent.
While Rowan’s scared face and the maid’s hostile expression urged him to say no, Effie’s bright eyes made him feel welcome. Someone genuinely wanted to spend time with him, as absurd as it sounded. And not because she had a business deal to discuss with him or worse, a marriage proposal.
His brain told him to say no and head to the factory in Pimlico to supervise the production. But his heart believed the factory could wait an hour or two.
“Gladly,” he said.
George walked to the hallway as well. “Good morning.”
Tristan stretched out an arm. “Lady Effie, this is my business partner and friend, Mr. Fleet.”
Effie gave a graceful nod of her head. “Mr. Fleet.”
George bowed. “My lady, you’re Lady Euphemia, Lord Winchester’s daughter, I believe.”
“I am she.”
“Interesting.” George turned towards Tristan who lifted his chin, challenging him to say more.
He had to keep Effie out of the quarrel with Winchester.
“Lady Effie is going to teach me about becoming a veterinary doctor,” Rowan said with a smile that Tristan didn’t remember having ever seen.
George’s face brightened. “Excellent. You’ll be great with your love of animals. Only good things come out of a great passion.”
Rowan blushed. “Thank you, Uncle.”
“Backgammon tonight?” George asked.
Rowan nodded. “Yes! I’ll tell you everything about today. We’re all going to the stables. Even Tristan.”
“Aren’t you going to Pimlico?” George asked as the footman helped him don his coat.
He waved a dismissive hand. “Later. I would like to see Zeus as well.”
“The more, the merrier,” Effie said, but no one seemed to share her enthusiasm.
George shifted his gaze from Effie to Tristan, like a confused dog who didn’t know which squirrel he should chase. “Yes, I often associate the word ‘merry’ with Lord Montcrest.”
Rowan started to chuckle but hid it with a cough.
“Excellent.” Effie seemed oblivious to the awkward atmosphere. “Shall we go?”
“Peter, my coat,” Tristan said to the footman.
George hugged Rowan and nodded to Effie. “It was a pleasure to meet you, my lady.” He angled towards Tristan. “I’ll see you later.”
They walked together to the stables in an uncomfortable silence—though not uncomfortable for Effie. She hummed a tune and smiled at the warm sunlight. She pointed out this or that flowering plant or a cloud with a funny shape.
The maid was so serious and stiff she could be a statue, and Rowan walked close to Effie as if not wanting to stay close to his brother.
He regretted his decision to go with them—a decision that had come from nowhere.
His relationship with Rowan had always been strained, not because Rowan’s mother was a young, ruthless woman who didn’t care about anyone but herself, as Father had said after she’d taken off with a lover.
But because Rowan grew up during those years Tristan had spent with his father working relentlessly, he hadn’t been present in Rowan’s life much.
He shouldn’t be surprised that his half-brother considered him a stranger.
George had spent more time with Rowan than he had.
Stable hands and grooms bowed and greeted them with low voices. Effie had been there only once, but she received warm smiles and devout bows from everyone.
She returned the greetings in kind. “Good morning, everyone. And here is mighty Zeus.”
Upon hearing her voice, Zeus whinnied. His jaw relaxed, and his tail swung. He bumped his head against her palm when she caressed his head.
“How are you?” she said in a special, sweet voice.
Zeus replied with equally soft noises, forgetting about his master.
Tristan smiled. Even his favourite horse liked her, and he felt proud of that for some reason he didn’t understand. But then again, where Effie was involved, many things didn’t make sense.
The maid shifted her position, likely trying to find a clean spot. She would have a hard time. The stable hands did their best to keep it clean, but mud and dung were always present.
“Zeus recovered quickly, didn’t he?” Rowan asked.
“Very quickly. He’s young and strong. It’s important to intervene as soon as possible when the symptoms of colic are spotted.
” She gave Zeus an apple she took out of her pocket.
“Some horses are prone to digestive problems. That’s why it’s helpful to allow them to drink small portions of water at a time, instead of large buckets. ”
Rowan nodded solemnly.
“I once helped a horse with a twisted intestine,” she said, “by using a stomach tube.”
“That sounds incredible!” Rowan’s enthusiasm struck Tristan.
His half-brother was truly keen to care for animals and study veterinary medicine.
Rowan focused on brushing Zeus’s coat while Effie talked about the importance of removing the twigs, tiny pebbles, or parasites from a horse’s coat.
“The bites of a horsefly get easily infected.” She fished out a book from her bag and flipped through the pages. “See? This is a sketch of an infected wound.”
“Nasty.” Rowan brushed Zeus more gently, checking every inch of the coat.
As Tristan stroked Zeus’s muzzle, he watched them talking like old friends, and a fit of longing bothered him.
Although he wasn’t sure what he longed for.
Maybe for happy, carefree days he’d never had with his father.
Not that he blamed Father. Those years had been all about survival, and Father had always been next to him through dark moments.
But he’d never been simply happy, enjoying a moment of freedom with his friends, and even George had been obsessed with making money.
The sun beating on the back of his neck reminded him it was time to go. Oddly enough, he found it hard to leave the stable. Effie’s chatter on how to spot and remove ticks wasn’t just interesting but also relaxing.
He straightened, happy to see Rowan enjoying himself. “I have to go. Lady Effie, thank you for your time.”
“You’re welcome.” She flashed another bright smile as if he were a normal person. If she only knew.
Rowan swallowed a couple of times. “Thank you for letting me be here today.”
Every gaze was set on Tristan. He could bet they were holding their breaths, waiting for his reply.
He patted Rowan’s shoulder. “You’re going to be an expert in animals soon.”
“I hope so.” Rowan flushed. Effie’s enthusiasm was contagious.
“My lady.” He gave her a quick nod and walked to the end of the stable alley.
A smile tugged at his lips as he headed towards the high street. She gave him reasons to smile, and he wouldn’t think too much about why.
He had barely turned the corner when Effie called out to him.
“Tristan.” She ran towards him, her skirt lifting and exposing her ankles clad in leather boots. Nice, slender ankles, that is. And he loved the sound of his name on her lips.
Her bright eyes never failed to hold him captive. They weren’t simply hazel but showed a riot of colours from golden specks to green hues. They changed according to the light.
“How is the cut?” she whispered when she stopped in front of him.
“Very well.”
“No infection?”
“I wouldn’t know.”
She frowned. “Your cut was neglected before I stitched it. It’s important to make sure the stitches don’t get infected.”
“I’ll order them not to.” He cringed inwardly. His attempt at making a joke was pathetic, to say the least.
She laughed, which made him chuckle, too. “If only it were that simple. I would like to take a look at it when you are available.”
He stopped smiling. “Excuse me?”
“You’re my patient.”
“I’m sure you don’t need to check on the cut.”
She became serious. “I stitched your cut. It’s my responsibility to make sure the wound doesn’t get infected. Do you have an idea of how many animals and people die from infections every year? If you prefer seeing your physician, I understand, but someone must check on it.”
If he had to choose between Dr. O’Neil and Effie, he had no hesitation in whom he preferred.
“I’ll be home in my study in the afternoon.”
“Excellent. Send for me when you’re home.” She gifted him with another smile. “I’ll see you later.”
He watched her running back to the stables, enthralled by the light radiating from her. She was like a bright star, and he wasn’t despicable enough to keep her in his darkness.