Chapter 39
thirty-nine
Tristan wasn’t nervous to meet Winchester but not completely relaxed either.
He wanted to do his proposal right, and even though Effie had already agreed to be his wife, he would talk to her father, aware the conversation would likely end with a mutual ‘go to hell.’
He waited for him in the drawing room when she walked in, beautiful as always, in a pink gown with a tight bodice and roses embroidered along the hem. His chest became lighter.
“Papa is about to see you,” she said in a low tone. “He isn’t going to react well.”
“I’m not here to ask for his blessing. I just want to inform him of my honest intentions.”
She scrunched up her nose. “I’m not sure that is the right attitude.”
“I’m counting on his gratitude for having stopped my attack on him.” He fought the urge to kiss her.
She chuckled. “Definitely not the right attitude. Besides, you’re behaving as he did when he believed your father would be grateful for Papa’s help and leave the infamous deal to him.”
“True.”
She frowned, studying his face.
“What is it?”
“You’re pale.” She put a hand on his shoulder. “How do you feel?”
“Weak.” He lowered his gaze. “And I hate it.”
“I think you’ve never been as strong as you are now.”
He opened and closed his hands. The cuts on his knuckles had healed, and even his ribs were better; he could breathe freely. But fatigue rode him hard.
“A gust of wind could break me. I don’t feel strong at all.”
“The first step is always the hardest, but you’re doing so well.”
“The next time it happens, I fear I might break.” He brushed a curl of her hair from her cheek. “Maybe your idea of tying me down isn’t so absurd.”
“If you think it might help, we’ll try it.”
“Montcrest.” Winchester narrowed his gaze at their closeness.
Effie smiled shyly, stepping back from Tristan. “I’ll leave you alone.”
The moment she left, tension snapped between them like a suddenly tightened rope.
“What’s the reason for your visit?” Winchester sat on the armchair and vaguely gestured at him to take a seat.
“I’ll go straight to the point.”
“Of course you will.”
He placed his arms on the armrests. “I want to marry Effie.”
Winchester’s twitching eyebrow was the only sign the news had shocked him. “Marrying her won’t change the fact I won’t sell anything to you.”
He wanted to tell him he could keep that bloody piece of land and that marrying Effie wasn’t a business operation. She was more important.
“I don’t care about what you will or will not sell. My reason for marrying Effie has nothing to do with my business. I love her.” He couldn’t completely remove the frustration from his voice.
Winchester snorted a laugh. “You don’t love anyone.”
“I don’t care about what you think. I came here out of respect and to inform you of my intentions.”
“Good. Because you’ll never marry my daughter,” Winchester said in a too-confident tone.
“She wants to marry me as well. I’m not interested in her dowry. You can keep it.”
“Money isn’t the problem.” Winchester stood up. His mouth twitched under his beard. “I’d rather not have my new son try to destroy me.”
Tristan rose as well. “I stopped and even reversed my financial moves, and I did it only because I love Effie.”
“Don’t take me for a fool. You’re still attacking me, Montcrest. Not as aggressively and openly as before, but you still are, and I’m still bleeding money.”
“I’m not doing anything,” he gritted out, doing his best not to show his surprise. “I am many things but not a liar. I’m not attacking you, Winchester. It must be someone else.”
“What a coincidence! Two different people attacking me in the same fashion, in a short time. When you’re ready to tell the truth, then maybe you’ll be worthy of my daughter.” Winchester rang the bell.
The butler arrived a moment later. “My lord.”
“Lord Montcrest is leaving.” He didn’t wait for Tristan to say anything and walked out of the room.
Tristan exhaled. He guessed professing his innocence would be a waste of breath.
Effie walked to the hallway as a footman helped him don his coat. “How did it go?”
“Not well. But you know me. I don’t give up. Ever.”
“But is there hope for his blessing?”
He couldn’t say he didn’t care about Winchester’s blessing because it would be a lie. He cared about her father’s opinion only because she cared about it. “Someone taught me that there’s always hope.” He leant closer to kiss her, only to stop himself before the butler yelled bloody murder.
She blushed, her eyelashes fluttering. “That someone is very wise.”
“And stunning. Very stunning.” He touched the rim of his hat and winked.
Pepper barked at Kettle who was curled up next to Effie on the sofa in the library.
She raised her gaze from the latest issue of The Swiss Archives of Veterinary Medicine. Barks and hisses echoed off the ceiling. Now and then, a sharp claw or a white fang made an appearance.
“Pepper, stop this ruckus. There’s enough space for everyone.” She patted the empty spot next to her.
Pepper started to jump on the sofa, but Kettle hissed and hit his muzzle with a paw.
“Kettle!”
Pepper howled, outraged. The barking started again, along with hisses and the menacing glint of fangs.
In the chaos, she couldn’t hear her own thoughts, much less read. She hadn’t expected Tristan’s proposal to go smoothly with Papa, but after his visit, Papa had left in a hurry without talking to her. She was disappointed. He should have found a few minutes for her and discussed the proposal.
Maybe her annoyance disturbed her pets. Growls and yowls were exchanged with lukewarm attacks. She was about to intervene again when footsteps approached.
“Effie!” Papa’s voice echoed in the high ceiling.
The barking and hissing stopped.
She put a hand on her chest. “I didn’t hear you, Papa.”
“I’m not surprised. I called you, but you didn’t acknowledge me.” He sat next to her, taking most of the space on the sofa and ending the argument between Pepper and Kettle.
“I know what you want to tell me. I’ve waited for you all day.” She put the magazine aside. “Tristan.”
His expression hardened. “He had the cheek to come here and ask for your hand. Well, he didn’t ask. He was merely informing me.”
“Do you dislike him so much? I know he attacked you, but now the situation is different.”
“No, it isn’t.” He rubbed his chest, and she worried he might suffer from another moment of panic. “I didn’t tell you because I was too proud and didn’t want to worry you.”
“What?”
“He’s attacking me again, chipping away at my company.”
No, she wouldn’t believe that. “I doubt that. It can’t be him.”
“It can’t be a coincidence. Two people who try to destroy me financially in a short time.” He scratched his beard. “Of course it’s him.”
She straightened her spine. “He isn’t as cruel as you think. Quite the opposite. I mean to marry him.”
“I will never agree.” He meant it. His tone was implacable.
“Then I’m sorry because I love you, but I love Tristan as well.”
He took her hand and stared at her as if she were a child again and being unreasonable. “He isn’t the right man for you.”
“Let me decide that. Please. You’ve always respected my choices.”
“Marriage is forever. I don’t want to see you hurt by a ruthless man who doesn’t care about you.”
“Papa.” She squeezed his hand. “You’re wrong.”
“My lady.” A footman entered, breaking the tension. “It has just arrived, my lady. A coach is waiting for your answer.” He handed her a message.
“Who is it?” Papa demanded to know, releasing her hand.
She unfolded the piece of paper. Only a line from Tristan. I need your help. The breath flushed out of her lungs. He was going through another crisis. So soon.
“Tell the coachman I’ll go with him immediately.”
“What is it?” Papa tried to read the message, but she folded it.
“Horse emergency. I must go, or he might die.”
“Effie—”
“It’s important. I can’t let him die. He’s been under my care for a while.” She kissed his cheek. “Don’t be angry.”
“I’m not angry. I’m disappointed.”
That made her pause because it hurt. “I’m sorry, but I’m disappointed, too. You’re behaving as stubbornly as Tristan did. He came here to talk to you and show respect, and you’re using me to hurt him. But you’re hurting me.”
“It’s the opposite. I’m trying to protect you.”
“It’s my life. I want to marry Tristan. Don’t force me to do something drastic. And after the incident at Aldersgate Station, I confess I trust you less.”
He blanched. “For the last time, I didn’t lie.”
“But you didn’t change either.” She left the room before he could reply.
She got her coat and climbed into the carriage in a hurry both because she wanted to see Tristan and because she was angry with her father. Her pulse raced as she thought of all the possible situations she might find Tristan in. If he’d been boxing again, he might have been risking his life.
What if he asked her to punch him again? No, he wouldn’t, and she wouldn’t do it anyway.
“My lady.” Harris welcomed her with a concerned expression. “Thank you for coming. His Lordship is in such a state. He’s in the small sitting room. He doesn’t want Lord Rowan to see him.”
“I’ll do my best to help him.” She handed him her coat.
“Bless you, dear girl.” He widened his eyes in horror. “Apologies, my lady.”
“No need to apologise.” She touched his arm before running to the sitting room.
Tristan was pacing, his breath uneven and his pupils dilated. He’d dispensed with the jacket, and his waistcoat was unbuttoned. His rolled-up shirtsleeves showed his muscled arms.
“I’m here.”
“Effie.” He crushed her in a bear hug, wrapping his arms of steel around her. “I don’t know what to do. I’m scared.”
“Take deep breaths. I’ll stay with you through it.”
“Tie me.” He shivered. “Unless you do it, I don’t think I can stop myself from going.”
She trembled with the force of his request. “Do you really want me to tie you down in your bed?”
“Yes.” Pain laced his voice, and she nearly sobbed at his suffering.
She rang the bell and waited for Harris. “I need a long, thick rope.”
Harris gazed from Tristan to her. “My lady?”
“Trust me. Please.”
“Of course.” Harris left, puzzled.
“You’re very brave.” She stroked Tristan’s arm.
“I feel the opposite.” His blond curls fell over his face, giving him a boyish look that made his pain more heartbreaking.
“Breathe.”
He did as told, his chest rising and falling quickly.
Harris returned with the rope. “Would that be all right, my lady?”
“Perfect. Thank you, Harris.”
The butler left again, but the worry lines on his forehead belied his mood.
She took Tristan’s hand and went upstairs to his bedroom. He shivered as if he were freezing.
“The fact you sent for me is already a huge achievement,” she said, but he didn’t seem to hear her. “You should be proud.”
He stretched out on the bed. “Please.”
“As long as you’re sure.”
“Unless you tie me down, I’ll flee the house.”
She hoped she knew what she was doing. A thousand doubts assaulted her. She was applying methods used for farm animals to a human.
The idea was as unreasonable as it sounded. She swallowed a few times as she wrapped the rope around his wrist and tied it to the bedpost as if she were hitching her mare. She tied his ankles as well, checking the rope didn’t bite into his flesh too hard.
Only one hand of Tristan was free, lest he feel too constricted.
Growing up close to farm animals had taught her the importance of well-done knots. She would have never imagined she would use that knowledge on the man she loved.
He tugged at the rope. “It’s tight.”
“Too much?” She moved to loosen the knots, but he shook his head.
“No. That’s what I need.”
She really hoped he was right. “I’ll stay here with you.” She sat on the bed and took his free hand, getting ready for a long night.