“Victoria, darling,” the shrill voice set Tristan’s hairs on end.
Victoria stared at him, her azure eyes wide as she mouthed help before turning to face their intruder. “Lady Markham, what a delightful surprise. I didn’t expect to see you in attendance this evening.”
Tristan smiled, amused at the ease with which Tori lied to the dreaded intruder.
“Nor I,” declared Lady Markham, eyeing Tristan with disdain. “What are you doing here … with him?”
There was no attempt to be civil on Lady Markham’s part.
If Victoria thought the question strange or the older woman’s tone rude, she showed no indication. Instead she grinned. “I have come to fetch Tristan. His sister has been looking for him ever since our arrival. Tristan and the Duchess of Davenport are so very close.”
“Yes,” Lady Markham narrowed her eyes.
Tori ignored Lady Markham’s glacial tone. “Forgive my rudeness. Are you acquainted with the duchess’s brother or are introductions in order?”
“We are …” Lady Markham paused as if for dramatic effect, “acquainted.”
Tristan bowed, “It is a pleasure, my Lady.”
“There you are, my dear!” It was none other than Lord Markham, a jovial man with rosy cheeks and a wide grin – his disposition in complete contrast to that of his wife as he surveyed Tristan and Victoria. “Oh, hello, Mr. MacAlistair, my Lady … I have been looking everywhere for my wife. Come with me, my dear, come with me. Lord Thackston has arrived and we must greet him.”
Lady Markham turned from her husband, to Tristan, then to Victoria. “Will you be all right?”
“Rest assured we shall both be fine, thank you,” Victoria replied, deliberately misinterpreting the question. In turn, Lady Markham scowled, pursing her lips as if she’d sucked on a lemon.
Tristan added, “Yes, please do not allow us to keep you from Lord Thackston.”
Lady Markham exhaled an impatient breath before bidding her curt farewells.
“I see you have been making friends in London,” Victoria quipped once her Ladyship was out of earshot.
Tristan winked at her as he offered her his arm, “You know me.”
“Yes, I do,” she looped her arm through his. “Apparently, so does Lady Markham. Dare I ask what offense you have committed against her?”
“What? You don’t think she likes me?” Tristan retorted.
“No,” Victoria watched the thin woman disappear from view. “Unless I am to assume that her frosty reception is part of her charm.”
“Isn’t it, though?” Tristan steered Victoria in the opposite direction of Lady Markham and her husband. “Why were you hiding from her? And when did you arrive in London? I wasn’t expecting you for another few days.”
“We arrived this morning since Sebastian’s business in London took a higher priority than expected. As for Lady Markham …” Victoria paused, reaching for Tristan’s glass of champagne before taking a sip. “She insists upon introducing me to her nephew.”
“Over my dead body.” His harsh statement escaped his lips before Tristan could stop himself.
“My sentiments, exactly,” Victoria raised the flute in a silent toast. “Though, from what I understand, he is a respectable man who possesses an ample living.”
But he was a man, and for some unknown reason, Tristan couldn’t stand the idea of Victoria with anyone other than himself. It was exasperating, really. He hadn’t been able to stop thinking of her or their last encounter since he had returned to London.
“Tristan,” She touched his sleeve. Informal, to be sure. Though it wasn’t an intimate act, he delighted in her nearness, her gentle touch sending a current of excitement up his spine.
“Will you assist me?” she asked.
He nodded, not quite certain to what he had just agreed because, when Victoria looked at him through brilliant indigo eyes currently the shade of the deepest ocean, he’d agree to just about anything.
“Precisely what have I agreed to?”
Victoria tilted her head to the side. “In addition to Sebastian’s business in London, I have my own interests.”
“Do tell,” he winked at her.
“My charities, several of which I shall be meeting with tomorrow. You see, I have devoted much of my time to my charities and I have no intention of crying off the responsibilities I have undertaken. Not for anyone, including a future husband. My betrothed must accept that before I will agree to any union.”
That narrowed down the choices of potential suitors, Tristan noted with a grin. Most men didn’t want their wives as headstrong or independent as Victoria.
“You are smirking,” Tori arched a brow. “You think my statement is ridiculous—”
“Not at all. I am admiring your tenacity.” Tristan patted her gloved hand. “May I offer my opinion?”
“Please do.”
“Don’t allow anyone to deter you or change your mind.”
“Ah,” Victoria’s lyrical laughter echoed through the hall. “Because defiance is such an endearing quality in a bride.”
She said it.
And Tristan couldn’t agree more.
Victoria’s strength was one of the qualities he most admired in her. And her defiance would be off-putting to many an eligible bachelor.
Tristan tucked a stray curl behind her ear, his fingertip gently grazing her silken flesh. “Your tenacity is a quality I adore in you. I wouldn’t want you to change.”
“Then we are agreed,” Victoria’s smile lit the room. “You shall help me find the perfect husband.”
“What?” Tristan’s mind reeled. When did he agree to such a thing?
“You just admitted to appreciating the very qualities most men would despise. Who better to choose the perfect husband for me than someone who understands me as you do?”
“I – I—” somehow, Tristan’s world had shifted. He was never one at a loss for words yet this woman left him unsteady and confused.
Would it be so bad to help Victoria find a suitable husband? One who would respect her and cherish her?
It should be you.
Tristan’s conscience was quite vocal on this particular subject. If only it had been a couple of years earlier. If only …
“I knew you’d be my savior.”
Savior?
That sounded quite respectable.
Victoria leaned forward and kissed his cheek, his flesh burning in response, seared by her soft lips. Tristan placed his free hand in his pocket in an attempt to stop himself from reaching for her and pulling her close.
What in bloody hell was wrong with him?
“I will count on you not to leave my side this evening,” Victoria said as they strolled past several more paintings, each one more repulsive than the last, in his opinion.
“Who proposed the barbaric notion of a marriage mart?” she asked.
They passed a couple and bowed their heads in unison. The man looked miserable, his lips in a pout, while his companion’s eyes flashed in obvious anger.
Tristan leaned towards Tori then whispered, “Someone who is a glutton for punishment?”
“Marriage can’t be that bad,” she shook her head. “Look at Sebastian and Gwen. They’re blissfully happy. One could argue that they belong together.”
Victoria gauged Tristan’s reaction. His brow furrowed as he appeared to contemplate her last statement. When he failed to respond, she added, “I suppose some are fated to be together.”
“While some are fated to be alone.” His baritone reflected a combination of acceptance and what she recognized as remorse.
He was grouping himself in the latter category, she surmised.
“That is why your help is crucial to me,” she teased in an attempt to alleviate the maudlin mood that had settled within him. “I refuse to be shackled to someone related to the repulsive Lady Madeline Markham. We must find someone better suited for me.”
She paused long enough for it to sink in that Tristan
would lose her if he didn’t make a move soon. Then she added, her tone light, “Shall we find Gwen? She is terribly excited to see you.”
They journeyed towards the main staircase when a good-humored male baritone called out, “Mr. MacAlistair, I have been looking everywhere for you.”
Turning, Tristan offered the tall, broad shouldered man his hand. “Lord Bixby, how are you this evening?”
“I detest events like this. They are so dreadfully boring, however, the food is delicious as is the liquor, which redeems the event.” His flushed cheeks hinted that he had indeed imbibed his fair share of the fine liquor.
“Lord Bixby, allow me to introduce Lady Victoria Montgomery.”
Tori offered her gloved hand to the dark haired man with gold wire rimmed glasses. “It is an honor, my Lord.”
“Tell me, my dear, do you find this event as dreadfully boring as I do?”
“To the contrary, my Lord, I find it most fascinating,” her eyes danced at Lord Bixby’s obvious surprise. “Where else can I encounter so many crucial members of Parliament? After all, you and your colleagues will be procuring me the right to vote in the near future, will you not?”
Tristan coughed behind his hand. It was all he could do to hide the smile that swept across his face at Tori’s last words.
Damn, she was courageous!
Bixby noticed it as well. “Brava, my dear!” he said with a laugh. “Where did you ever find this woman, Tristan? Beautiful and intelligent, I dare say.”
“Thank you, my Lord,” Tori tipped her head. “I dare say my fate couldn’t be in better hands.”
Bixby offered her a toothy smile. “Mark my words, a man could accomplish anything with such a wife.”
In spite of his mind’s objections, Tristan’s heart was assured of it.
* * *
Dinner at the Duke and Duchess of Davenport’s London townhome was spectacular. It never ceased to amaze Tristan the opulence in which his sister now lived.
Their London home was a three-story townhouse decorated with lavish bronze statues, Louis IV furnishings, Aubusson carpets, marble floors and vivid artwork.
Tristan was glad his niece and nephew were present throughout dinner. It made it easier for him to appear interested, as talk centered around their upcoming birthday party for the most part. Since the debacle of his engagement to Eve, Gwen had a tendency to discuss his personal life, so concerned was she about the hermit she believed he had become.
Gwen knew not the depths to which it was presumed her twin had sunk. In truth, he didn’t want her to know. Tristan feared that his sister would never understand the man the ton believed him to be or why he allowed his reputation to be ruined. There was a portion of his public persona that was genuine, of course. A convincing lie is always easier when it stems from a modicum of truth.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” Gwen smiled, kissing her brother on the cheek. “We have missed you terribly. Will you stay while I put the twins to bed?”
“Indeed he will. Sebastian and I are in dire need for a third at cards.” Victoria winked at Tristan as she rose from her seat before adding, “Be forewarned, my brother cheats.”
“I do not!” Sebastian said from behind her. “You misplace one ace and you’re branded a cheat.”
Tori tilted her head to the side, “Why must I always remind you that the ace was up your sleeve?”
Sebastian messed her hair as he passed, “A technicality, sweet sister, a mere technicality.”
Tori followed closely behind him, “Don’t you dare deal without me being present.”
“Their banter never changes, does it?” Tristan mused.
Gwen shook her head with a smile. “Victoria is outsmarting Sebastian more often. He admires that, though he would never dare admit it to her.”
After escorting Gwen upstairs, Tristan kissed his niece and nephew goodnight then joined Sebastian and Victoria in the study. It was a warm, inviting room. The fire roaring in the grate illuminated the room in a comforting amber glow, further accentuated by the many flickering wall sconces. Rich rosewood paneling and a burgundy leather sofa and matching chaises added a masculine flair.
Tristan sat at the card table, across from Victoria, who was schooling Sebastian in the art of winning.
“That, brother dear, is how you win piquet,” she placed her victorious suit of cards on the table with a flourish of her hand. “You owe me my winnings.”
“Whist with my wife is far less expensive,” Sebastian teased.
Turning to her brother, Victoria tilted her head to the side. “That is because Gwen allows you to win.”
Her brother considered Victoria’s statement for a moment. “Is that why cards with you are so very costly? Well, then. I’m out,” Sebastian stifled an exaggerated yawn.
“Coward,” Victoria leaned over the table as she retrieved the scattered cards. “I may purchase a new gown with my winnings.”
Tristan tried his best not to examine the way her current violet gown hugged her curves, certain that he would like the new one just as much.
Sebastian rose before kissing his sister on the cheek. “Good night, Tori.” He then turned toward Tristan, “Be forewarned, my sister is wicked when it comes to cards and she will want a pair of shoes or a bonnet to match her new gown.”
Tristan steeled his shoulders. “You have met your match, Lady Victoria.”
“We shall see,” she leaned forward, pushing the stack of cards towards him, allowing him to catch a glimpse of the creamy flesh above her bodice.
Though a quick glimpse, it still caused his muscles to stiffen in response. He must stop this madness! Tristan averted his gaze in an attempt to calm his erratic pulse.
“Tori,” Gwen said from the entryway. “Do you mind if Tristan and I share some time alone?”
Just in time, Tristan thought, grateful for his sister’s unintentional rescue. He turned to Tori, surprised to find her staring at him.
Had she been studying him this whole time?
“We shall continue this at a later date,” she said with a mischievous glint in her eyes as she stood. Victoria then bid goodnight to them both.
Tristan concentrated on her faint footfalls as she proceeded down the hall, a sense of disappointment surging within him.
“I apologize for interrupting your game,” Gwen walked to the sideboard table and reached for a crystal decanter. “I feared you would leave before we had gotten a chance to speak.”
Guilt washed over Tristan for he had considered doing that very thing. “Our last conversation was rather disappointing,” he said, the memory still fresh in his mind as he studied the stack of cards.
“For whom?” Gwen asked, placing a glass of amber liquid on the table in front of him.
Tristan reached for it, taking a hefty swig and allowing the alcohol to burn a path down his throat before responding, “I disappointed you, I'm afraid.”
“I want you to be happy, Tristan,” she said, reaching for his hand. “It is as simple as that.”
“It isn’t as simple as you believe. You can’t snap your fingers and see it done, Gwen. Besides, this isn’t your battle. It is mine.” He downed the contents of his glass before setting it back atop the table.
His sister’s insistence was exasperating. She must have understood, for she squeezed his hand. “We return to the country tomorrow. We shall see you at Kellington Manor for the twins’ party, yes?”
He nodded, unable to trust his own voice.
“I love you,” she whispered, hugging him. “I will never stop trying to reach you. No matter how long it may take, I will not give up on you.”
Tristan sighed, releasing a ragged breath before muttering, “I know, which is why I will undoubtedly continue to disappoint you.”
“I think not,” Gwen’s tone was steadfast as she walked to the door, pausing briefly to say, “I shall see you at the twins’ party.”
He sat frozen for several minutes, concentrating on the faint ticking of the gi
lded clock upon the mantel.
Time.
So much had changed over such a relatively short duration. His relationship with Gwen was just one of the many aspects of his life that were now tattered beyond repair.
Tristan knew his sister would keep attempting to rescue him from himself. He was also aware that she was too late, for he couldn’t turn back, not any longer.
He had made his choices and was beyond redemption. It was a matter of time before his sister learned just what type of man he had allowed himself to become and would despise him for it.
Almost as much as he detested himself.
Chapter 3
Tristan’s lacquered coach swayed to a stop in front of his brother-in-law’s estate known as Kellington Manor. Reaching into his vest, he checked the time on his filigreed pocket watch. He was late for his niece and nephew’s birthday party. It was a deliberate act since the thought of seeing Colin and Eve again, being reminded of the life he could have once obtained was almost too much for him to endure.
Eve’s betrayal had altered the direction of his life in countless ways. How would Tristan’s life be different if Eve had been honest with him from the start? If she told him she was secretly betrothed to his brother? Tristan would have made different choices, of that he was certain, for at that point in his life he was open to the prospect of a family of his own.
One fateful night changed Tristan’s future.
It changed him.
Once Tristan caught sight of Eve kissing Colin, his heart lay slashed and tattered. It was nothing but scar tissue now, closed off to the mere prospect of love and marriage. He no longer trusted anyone because trust leads to misery.
Tristan’s life was proof of that.
He had once trusted his father and no one knew what the monstrous man had put him through or what Tristan suffered to protect his sister. What happened with Eve was just another in a lifelong list of reasons he would never have a family of his own.
Tristan was forced to remind himself that his life after Eve was the sum of his choices. Blaming Eve was easy but it wasn’t fair. Tristan had chosen this path and there was no turning back.
The Skilled Seduction Page 4
