Chapter 6 #2
Mention of her name put a little knot in his belly that felt a great deal like eagerness.
“Why wouldn't I be kind to her?”
She lifted her shoulders. “I presume you will be, but Hyacinth be rather shy.”
Tristan cocked his head at that assessment. It wasn’t how she’d been with him at all. She’d been warm and engaging.
“If you let her, I suspect she’d want to see all of this.” She fixed her gaze on the rows of bones he’d meticulously cleaned and sorted. “She might even be eager to help you.”
Tristan had never allowed anyone to assist him with his work and would normally bristle at the very prospect. But he wasn’t bristling now. Odd.
“Will you make sure to ask her to dance?”
The thought of it sent a rush of heat across his nape. His throat was suddenly too dry to answer. He swallowed thickly and said, “If her foot is recovered.”
Emma laughed brightly. “She sent me a letter and she says her foot is fully recovered, and she doesn't want to hear another word about it.”
“I see.”
“I know that you will tease her about it, and she'll probably enjoy that.” She laughed again.
“Does Miss Bridewell—”
She’d just turned to depart, but glanced over her shoulder. “Hmm?”
He was going to ask if Hyacinth liked to ride horses. If she enjoyed walks in gardens in general, or simply during balls. If she would be interested in seeing the nearby pond where he and Emma had snuck off to play as children.
In short, he wanted to know her better.
But that was what the house party was for.
“Never mind,” he told his sister. “I’ll find out soon enough.”
Emma’s eyes widened at that. “You’re fond of her, aren’t you? And after only once dance.”
“And crushing her toes.”
Emma looked far too much like a cat who’d just stumbled on a dish of cream.
“Don’t,” he warned. Their father’s expectations were quite enough to contend with.
“I’m just pleased that you two seem to enjoy each other’s company.” She faced him again, then tipped her head down, scuffing the toe of her shoe across the tiles, hands fidgeting with a ribbon at the front of her gown.
“She lost her brother, you know.” The words emerged quietly, hesitantly.
“No, I did not know.”
“Remember when you came home from university after your twentieth birthday and caught a terrible fever?”
Tristan frowned, confused by the sudden shift to topic. “Yes, of course.”
He’d been bedridden for a week and so ill that at one point the family doctor had urged his father to prepare himself for the worst.
“When she told me about the loss of her brother, it reminded me of that terrible week. I thought I might lose you.” When she met his gaze, her eyes were glistening. “That’s why it pleases me that you two get on. Everyone should have a brother as lovely as you.”
Tristan chuckled at the compliment, but then her meaning settled over him.
“So I’m to be a kind of brother to Miss Bridewell too?”
Emma laughed, then turned and finally left the conservatory.
Tristan let out a breath.
Hyacinth Bridewell viewing him in a brotherly light? He grimaced.
No, he didn’t like that prospect at all.
Hyacinth watched the Kentish fields pass by as they made their approach to the Brooke family’s country house.
A few of the trees had begun to show their fall colors, as the temperatures had cooled as soon as September came. The chill in the country air was delightfully refreshing, and the sun seemed to cast a golden glow over the hay stacks dotting the fields.
Opposite her in their private train car, Griffin and Lily sat in quiet conversation.
Beside her, Marigold had tipped her head back and fallen asleep a couple of hours into their train journey, but Hyacinth couldn’t rest. She’d woken early, full of excitement and not a small dose of anxiety.
Now, with their arrival so close, the feelings or trepidation mixed with eagerness had only increased.
Not twenty minutes later, their train pulled into the station, and the four of them and their luggage were all bundled into a hired carriage for the journey to Oakhill.
“I wonder if there will be music and dancing,” Marigold mused.
“There will be,” Hyacinth affirmed, eyes fixed out the carriage window, nearly breathless for her first glimpse of Tristan and Emma’s home.
“In a letter, Emma mentioned some of what she has planned. She’s eager for everyone to enjoy themselves.
” She flicked a glance at Griffin and Lily.
“I think she’s a bit nervous about you two.
Their family isn’t used to hosting dukes. ”
Lily and Griffin exchanged an amused look. “We promise to be on our best behavior,” Lily said with a smile.
In truth, they’d all grown up in a country house that Hyacinth suspected was a great deal like Oakhill before moving onto the ducal estate after Lily became duchess. She missed Briarfield to this day.
“Oh, is that it?” Marigold asked from her side of the carriage.
Hyacinth turned to peer out her sister’s window and gasped.
And as she peered out the window, she saw the prettiest country house.
It’s sandstone face a warm caramel color and its leaded glass windows sparkling in the autumn sun.
And it did remind her of Briarfield, where she and her sisters had grown up.
Nothing ostentatious, and yet all the more appealing because it was not gaudy in any way.
Flowers bloomed in flowing beds around the front of the house.
And two pillars holding up the pediment above the front door were covered in climbing vines whose blooms had faded and whose leaves were beginning to turn.
Hyacinth loved all of it on first sight. And she could admit to herself that he was part of the reason. Somewhere behind the thick oak front door of the charming country house, she’d find Tristan.
She rolled her hands together. Felt a trickle of sweat at the back of her neck and a little sheen of perspiration on her forehead.
Would it be awkward when they saw one another again? Would he remember how easy things had been in the garden? Or would it be formal and uncomfortable?
A footman emerged from the front door of Oakhill, and their coachman jumped down to assist with their traveling cases. Griffin climbed out of the carriage first and handed each of them down.
By the time Marigold climbed out, Hyacinths could see Emma. She gulped at the sight of Tristan emerging through the front door behind her.
He looked magnificent in a dark charcoal morning coat, darker trousers, and a rich blue waistcoat that reminded her of his eyes.
Emma rushed off the front step to greet them.
“We're so glad you're here. Welcome, Your Grace and Your Grace.” She beamed at Hyacinth.
“And Miss Bridewell and Miss Bridewell. You're our second guests to arrive.” As she hooked an arm through Hyacinth’s she leaned in to murmur, “Only Lord Cartwright and his aunt have arrived so far.”
Tristan gestured for them all to enter Oakhill, his gaze catching Hyacinth’s for a moment that made her cheeks immediately and traitorously begin to heat.
“Welcome,” he said once they were all gathered in the house’s foyer.
“Cartwright and Lady Hemphill have gone up their rooms, and Mrs. Paxton will show you to yours.” He nodded toward a middle-aged woman in a mobcap, who Hyacinth guessed was Oakhill’s housekeeper.
“We plan to have everyone gather in the drawing room in a few hours.”
Mrs. Paxton bustled forward, introduced herself, and then started the climb up the main staircase.
Hyacinth lingered at the back of the procession.
“I’ll try to sneak up and speak to you before we gather in this evening,” Emma whispered to Hyacinth.
“I look forward to it.” Hyacinth could all but feel the excitement and nervousness vibrated in Emma’s voice. “We’ll all so pleased to be here,” she added, in an attempt to reassure her.
Emma reached out and gave Hyacinth’s fingers a squeeze.
The whole time, Hyacinth was intensely aware of Tristan standing nearby, watching the whole exchange. When their gazes met, it was a bit like looking up into a bright sky. Lovely and a touch overwhelming. Hyacinth dipped her head, determined not to stare, and began making her way upstairs.
“Thank you for coming,” he murmured.
Hyacinth stilled and looked back at him, uncertain if he was speaking to her.
He was. His gaze was fixed on her.
“Of course,” she replied.
That brought the merest flicker of a smile to his face, then he nodded, and strode off down the hall.
He’d spoken to her. Noticed her. Hyacinth ascended the stairs feeling a bit as if she was walking on air.