Chapter 13
thirteen
Effie ran the tip of her tongue over her bottom lip that kept tingling after Tristan had touched and kissed it. She didn’t know what to think of his behaviour, her behaviour, and the whole world. But whatever had happened between them had been intense and shocking.
In the carriage with her friend, she was still shivering from the kiss. He’d stared at her with passion and hunger, as no man had ever done before. She hadn’t had any choice but to stop him before the kiss went too far.
Actually, she didn’t have a proper reason for having stopped him aside from the moment of panic that had caught her.
If he’d kissed her properly, he would have found her lacking in technique.
She’d kissed a few boys when she’d lived in the country, but the Marquess of Montcrest didn’t seem like a man who would be satisfied by a simple country-style kiss.
And kissing him would have been inappropriate.
She was a coward. She was a liar as well, because she had no idea why she hadn’t kissed him back.
The rocking of the carriage caused the bag to slip from the seat, and she was so focused on thinking of Tristan’s eyes she let it drop.
“Did something untoward happen with Montcrest?” Jane asked, picking the bag up while Turi stuck his head out of the window and enjoyed the breeze.
“No.”
“I beg your pardon, but you were and still are flushed, and there was an awkward silence in the room. I shouldn’t have left you alone with him. There are rumours about him being a rake, and rumours are usually true.”
She tried again. “Nothing happened.” And she was debating if she was disappointed or not. “You listen to rumours too often, and they’re usually wrong.”
“They can make or destroy your reputation. What’s more important?”
“Honesty. Lord Montcrest is very honest in my opinion.”
Jane looked taken aback. “Heaven, do you fancy him?”
Good question.
“I’m not sure.” She rubbed the spot between her eyebrows. “He confuses me.”
“You shouldn’t have danced with him, especially in that scandalous fashion.” Jane held Turi in place as he tried to lean over the window. “You two were practically hugging and became the talk of the evening.”
“He isn’t as terrible as everyone thinks. Sometimes he’s serious and cranky, but other times, he looks fragile and vulnerable.” And his lips were surprisingly soft, gentle, and deliciously wicked.
“The marquess? Fragile and vulnerable? He’s a grinder.”
“That’s what I thought until I saw another side of him.”
Jane put Turi on the seat next to her. “Well, I hope you don’t see any other side of him.”
Effie couldn’t stop thinking about Tristan as she lay on the sofa with Pepper and Kettle.
Pepper had his head on her lap while Kettle was busy with a thorough cleaning of his glossy black coat and sharp nails while showing off his sense of balance and flexibility.
Tristan had stared at her as if she’d been the most attractive woman in the kingdom and he couldn’t resist her, and she would be lying if she said she didn’t find his look fascinating. That look alone had made her feel desirable and…powerful?
He was such a commanding man that having the power to make him ache for her was ridiculously heady.
How vain of her. But admittedly, he was attractive, scary at times, but definitely attractive.
He could also be cold, and she didn’t understand his relationship with Rowan.
He was a lovely boy but seemed terrified of his brother.
Did Tristan mean to become her suitor? She had no idea what she was supposed to do with that possibility.
“Darling?” Papa entered the library.
“Papa.” She closed the book she’d been pretending to read and stroked Pepper’s head. “You’re early.”
“I gather you visited Montcrest today.” He had the same tone as that morning, and she didn’t like it.
“Yes, well, not exactly. As I told you, I met with his young brother, Lord Rowan. He wants to learn everything about horses and animals.”
There was no need to mention her second visit.
He sat in front of her. “And you didn’t see Montcrest?”
“Briefly.” She had no intention of receiving another lecture on how terrible Tristan was. She could draw her own conclusions. But while she was there. “Did you see Colin the other day? Did you go to Greenford?”
A corner of his eye twitched. “Of course I did. Why?”
Kettle stopped licking himself and stared at Father with his large eyes; one of his paws remained stretched out over his head.
“I heard you were in London.”
“I visited Colin.” He didn’t sound confident, and she didn’t believe him.
“Why don’t you want to sell to Lord Montcrest?” she asked before he could press her on. “The land in Easthollow doesn’t have any value, and the railway will help the people in a small town.”
Papa stood up, hands clasped behind his back.
“I don’t want to help Montcrest get richer.
His father was a ruthless man who didn’t deserve his good luck, and I don’t see why I should help his son.
I helped them in a moment of need, and when it came to return the favour, the late Montcrest didn’t show any mercy.
He robbed me of the deal that would have let me expand my railway company.
But no, he was too selfish to remember I’d fed him in a time of need. ”
She looked at him. “I can’t believe it. You refuse to sell the land to Montcrest out of spite.” A bitter taste filled her mouth. “Remember the truth is you didn’t want to help them. I insisted. And you don’t help someone in the hope they’ll return the favour.”
Sensing her distress, Kettle quietly left the armrest to jump on the top shelf from which he could keep an eye on the world and stay out of trouble.
“That’s quite enough!” He paused, then exhaled. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be so harsh.”
She straightened. “I don’t want to meddle with your affairs. I’m trying to understand why you want to punish Montcrest for something he didn’t do.”
“Darling.” Her father took her hand. The change from outraged to sweet was so fast her head reeled. “Trust me. Montcrest is the same as his late father. Ruthless, greedy, and conniving. His father used every dirty financial trick he knew to make money without caring about whom he was hurting.”
“Again, what does Montcrest’s father have to do with anything?” She slid her hand out of his. “He and his father aren’t the same person.”
“Montcrest learnt from his father. He’ll stop in front of nothing.
He regained his fortune and more, but it’s not enough.
He wants more. He’ll never be satiated. And his grandfather plotted against the monarch!
” The outraged tone was back. “Don’t listen to anything he says and please don’t visit him anymore. ”
Nothing Papa told her made her want to stay away from Tristan. “His grandfather was never charged with treason.”
“Because he was a cheater.”
She threw a hand up. “You have all the answers. But Rowan is a fine boy and a friend of mine.”
“Who will become a remorseless man like his brother.”
She gathered her patience. “Nothing you’ve told me so far has convinced me of Lord Montcrest’s bad character. Quite the opposite, I must say.”
“If Montcrest and his father had been gentlemen and played by the rules, the London and West Marches Railway would be mine! But no, the late marquess found some tricky way to secure the licence to build the railway.” He put a fist on his chest. “That licence was mine. He stole it out from under me and his son was his accomplice. That’s the kind of man Montcrest is. ”
She was still sceptical. From what she’d seen, every business deal involved one trick or another. Those gentlemen kept stabbing each other in the back. Papa was being resentful and unreasonable, only because he’d lost a deal.
“Surely, it wasn’t the first business deal you have ever lost,” she said, trying to make him see reason.
“No, it wasn’t, but the Montcrests are traitors to the crown, and I don’t deal with criminals.” He fixed the knot of his cravat.
The situation was clear now. She folded her arms over her chest. “You’re angry because a ruined, disgraced, and penniless man beat you at a business game. Had it been any other lord, you wouldn’t have minded that much.”
He worked his jaw. “Think about what I told you next time you want to see him.” He left the room and closed the door with a thud.
She must have struck a nerve.
Pepper raised his ears. Kettle jumped on the sofa again and put his soft paw on her arm.
“What would you do, Kettle?” She stroked his velvety head.
Kettle would do whatever he wanted, as he usually did.