Chapter 4 #3
Nathaniel regarded him with interest. "And what do you intend to do?"
Tristan smiled faintly. "I am uncertain there is anything I can do.
Helena is not the sort to defend herself by spreading her own account through society, and I would not betray her confidence by encouraging it.
Nevertheless..." He paused. "If an earl continues to call upon the Fairchilds as though nothing has changed, perhaps others will think twice before accepting Lord Ravenscroft's version without question. "
Nathaniel nodded slowly. "I should like to meet Miss Fairchild."
"You shall." Tristan regarded him with a small smile.
"I dislike seeing a lady's reputation become entertainment for idle gentlemen." A comfortable silence followed before Nathaniel's expression became distinctly more amused. "There is something else."
Tristan looked at him.
"You have spent the better part of half an hour speaking of Miss Fairchild."
Tristan said nothing.
"You insist your concern is for her reputation," Nathaniel continued, "yet not once have you spoken of her as your family's friend. Every time you have referred to her, it has simply been..." He smiled. "'Helena.'"
Tristan raised an eyebrow.
"I wonder," Nathaniel said with a quiet chuckle, "whether you have noticed that yourself."
"Beatrice," Tristan said, changing the subject as they rose to continue their walk, "has asked whether you might be persuaded to join us for dinner this evening."
"I should be delighted." After a brief pause, Nathaniel asked, "And how is Georgiana?"
Tristan smiled faintly. "Very well. I think London agrees with her."
"I can well imagine that." Nathaniel responded softly.
Tristan looked at his friend for a moment before continuing. "You shall see for yourself this evening."
The two parted ways shortly afterward, and when Tristan entered his townhouse, one of the footmen stepped forward with a sealed letter.
"My Lord, this arrived for you a short while ago. It was delivered by one of the Fairchild servants, who said it was of some importance."
Tristan thanked him before removing his gloves and handing both them and his hat to another servant. Without pausing, he made his way directly to his study. Turning the letter over in his hands, he wondered briefly whether it might be from Helena.
Breaking the seal, his eyes instinctively traveled to the signature before he began reading. It had been written by Lady Fairchild. A slight frown crossed his face.
He had not expected Helena to write to him directly, yet he found himself wondering whether she might have chosen to confide in him after what had taken place left her looking so troubled the previous evening.
Instead, it was her mother who sought him out, and that alone was enough to deepen his concern.
He read the letter through once before returning to the beginning and reading it again more carefully.
Lady Fairchild wrote that, in times of difficulty, Sir Benedict had often relied upon the counsel of the late Earl of Blackmere, just as Tristan's father had turned to Sir Benedict when occasion required.
She hoped the friendship and trust that had long existed between the two families might continue with the next generation and asked whether he would be willing to offer his advice on the unhappy circumstances surrounding Helena's broken engagement.
Tristan understood precisely what she had left unsaid. Lady Fairchild could hardly seek counsel elsewhere when society had already begun feasting upon the scandal. Another gentleman, however well-intentioned, might easily repeat her confidence in another drawing room before the day was over.
She needed someone she trusted, someone who cared more for the family's welfare than for an interesting piece of gossip. Writing on behalf of both herself and Sir Benedict, she had appealed to the long friendship between their families, a confidence Tristan had no intention of betraying.
The request, however, left Tristan in a difficult position. He knew little more than anyone else. Helena had not confided in him, Lord Ravenscroft's account had already spread through society, and the truth remained hidden somewhere between the two.
Without wasting another moment, he drew a fresh sheet of paper from the desk and dipped his quill into the inkstand.
His reply was brief but sincere. He assured Lady Fairchild that he would gladly be of whatever assistance he could but confessed that he knew too little of the matter to offer meaningful counsel until he had heard the full account.
If it suited the family, he proposed calling upon them early the following afternoon.
Once the ink had dried, he folded the letter, sealed it with wax, and rang for a servant.
"See that this is delivered to Fairchild House immediately," he ordered.
"At once, My Lord."
As the servant departed, Tristan remained standing beside his desk. The following day, he hoped, he would finally learn what had caused Helena to end an engagement that only the previous morning, had appeared certain to end in marriage.