“And,” he continued, “I’d like to spend more time with Matthew, if you’ll allow it.”
Her smile brightened further. “I would love that as would he.”
“I’m afraid we’ll need to be discreet though, especially in public. I wouldn’t want to cause Samantha’s reputation any harm.”
Grace nodded. “I understand. Your thoughtfulness only makes me care for you more.”
Worry trickled through his mind. He took her hands from his neck and held them in his, unable to think clearly when she touched him like that. “I want you to truly consider this...relationship we might have. You’ve mentioned how Daniel smothered your opinions until you lost sight of yourself. You are only now starting to find you again. I wouldn’t want to interfere with that process. I would understand if you’d prefer to wait and give yourself time to enjoy your new life.”
“I don’t know that I was enjoying anything until I met you.” She glanced down at their entwined hands for a moment before looking up again. “I don’t know where our...friendship is taking us either, but I’d like to find out. That is, if you do.”
The tension in Tristan’s shoulders eased as he smiled. “I would like that very much.”
He didn’t think he’d ever been quite this happy. Struggling with anger seemed a distant problem in this moment. Perhaps that was what had been missing from his father’s life—happiness.
Could the solution to his dilemma of taming his temper be as simple as finding happiness? He wasn’t certain but he looked forward to trying it. Especially with Grace at his side.
Chapter Nineteen
“It is consoling to know that in the last year (1867) this number [of sturdy beggars] was decreased considerably, and that no more than 311 were sentenced.”
~The Seven Curses of London
“What on earth are you about?”
Tristan didn’t appreciate his mother’s question or her tone as she strode into his library. He glanced up from the papers he’d been reviewing from his man of business and reluctantly rose. With the recent events and distractions, he’d put off the correspondence he needed to take care of and had already spent the better part of the morning buried in it.
Losing Crawford House in two weeks would require adjustments and tightening on all fronts. His heart hurt at the idea of never going there again, but not as much as it would’ve hurt if he’d lost the chance of having Grace in his life.
“I demand an explanation.” His mother struck the arm of the chair in which she’d just sat to emphasize her point.
“You are starting to sound like Father.”
“You’re going to lose everything.”
“I sincerely hope not.”
However, Crawford House was unentailed, and the stipulation in his father’s will had been clear. Tristan would not inherit it, nor could he purchase it, if he hadn’t married by the time he reached five and thirty. It would be sold to whoever wished to buy it, as long as they had no ties to the Hawke family. Losing the estate would be a significant loss, both financially and personally.
The rents it received, the fertile soil that allowed crops to flourish, and generations of clever land management made that particular holding profitable. One of the few that was. The surplus income it provided had made it possible to maintain the other holdings that were entailed.
The idea of never riding the hills and valleys of Crawford House, of no longer having ties to the quaint village there, not to mention living in the one house where he’d felt at home, greatly saddened him.
But none of that was worth tying himself to Lady Samantha for the rest of his life.
“Well? What are you about?” His mother’s lips formed a thin line. She rarely smiled, but her displeasure this morning was blatant.
“I’ve asked Lady Samantha to call off the engagement and advised her to give whatever reason she feels is appropriate, within reason, of course.”
“You’ve gone mad. What possessed you to do so?”
Though his mother’s reaction wasn’t unexpected, he wondered how different his life might have been if he’d had the support of a mother like Grace.
“I do not want to marry her.”
“From what little you’ve told me in recent years,” she continued as though he hadn’t spoken, “Crawford House is the only estate earning money.”
“That is true. Perhaps if Father hadn’t placed such a requirement on my inheriting it, we wouldn’t be faced with this predicament.”
“Nor would we if you proceeded with your marriage as planned. How do you intend to fix this mess?”
“Adjustments will have to be made to our spending.” He rubbed his finger over his upper lip as he watched her, wondering if she understood what he was saying.
“What does that mean?” The outrage on her face would’ve been amusing if it had been for some other reason.
“Exactly what you suspect. Money will be much tighter without that income.” He leaned forward, his gaze holding hers. “Why did Father feel such a stipulation was necessary?”
“I’m sure I have no idea.” She glanced away, which clearly said she did.
“Mother.” Anger colored his tone, and he could only grimace at how much he sounded like his father.
“He did not confide in me when it came to such matters.”
Tristan only raised a brow. While he knew that to be true, he was certain she knew about this. “Surely you know.”
“He added the stipulation only a year or two before he died,” she admitted at last. “He didn’t believe you truly understood the need to put the title and the responsibilities that come with it before your own wants. He said that despite all his efforts, you still carried the seeds of rebellion.”
Tristan slammed his hand on the desk. “I did everything he asked, but still he wanted more.”
His mother pursed her lips once again. “I can only surmise that he thought you spent too much time at Crawford House when the other holdings needed your attention.”
How many times had they argued over that very topic? His father had done his best to control him long after he’d come of age. It shouldn’t have surprised Tristan that he’d managed to find a way to continue to do so beyond his death. Obviously, he’d made this provision to punish Tristan if he didn’t toe the mark.
Tristan turned to look out his window, remembering rolling, wooded hills rather than the front walk of his townhome. He loved everything about Crawford House. It had always eased his unrest when he stayed there. Perhaps because his father had never cared for it and never bothered to put his own mark on it.
No matter how long he lived, he was certain he’d never understand his father or the reason he’d acted as he had. He’d treated everyone in his life as an adversary, regardless of whether they were family, friends, or strangers. He was so sure they were all out to gain the better of him.
In reality, the reasons mattered little. His father was gone. Now it was up to Tristan to determine if he wanted his long shadow to darken his own life. Somehow, someway, he needed to forgive him and move past it. Was he capable of doing so?
“What are you thinking?” His mother demanded. “I can see something is on your mind.”
Perhaps. But he didn’t intend to share it with her. This would be a topic better served by speaking with Nathaniel. He was the one who’d truly understand.
And Grace.
How interesting that he now added her to the short list of people he trusted.
“I’m afraid we’ll lose Crawford House,” he said at last. “I hope that pleases Father, wherever he is.”
“Tristan, you shouldn’t speak of your father like that.”
Tristan scoffed. “I doubt he’d take notice. Besides, it would most likely please him.” He picked up the papers he’d been reading prior to his mother’s arrival. “Now then, if there’s nothing else, I have other duties to which I must attend.”
His mother’s mouth gaped at his dismissal.
Why did it surpr
ise her when she’d been doing it to him most of his life?
He kept his attention on his correspondence as she marched out of the room, head held high. The idea of warning Nathaniel that he’d no doubt have a visitor crossed his mind, but he decided Nathaniel might be expecting her visit due to the end of Tristan’s betrothal. His brother always seemed to be one step ahead of him when it came to such matters.
With a sigh, he again swung his attention to the window. He would miss Crawford House immensely. Yet what else could he do? He would eventually marry. After all, he knew his duty as the Earl of Adair.
Deep inside him bloomed the hope that Grace would welcome his suit when enough time had passed to avoid any sort of scandal. Right alongside that hope was guilt that refused to be dismissed. He mustn’t rush his proposal to her when she was only now finding her wings as a woman and a viscountess. It seemed to him that she’d always known her way as a mother.
With luck, the hope would soon outweigh the guilt and he could make Grace his.
Grace breathed a sigh of appreciation as she rode alongside Tristan early the next morning in Hyde Park. Matthew cantered ahead of them, Frederick, the footman, rode at his side.
Her son had been ecstatic at the idea of another outing with Tristan. Nearly as ecstatic as she. The thought brought a smile to her lips.
A thin fog laced the trees, lending an otherworldly view to the park this morning. The damp air provided a freshness that she dearly missed from the country. London air left much to be desired, as the coal used to chase away the damp chill of early mornings and evenings left soot in the air and on every piece of furniture in the house. The maids waged a constant battle against the black dust. Grace was grateful for their efforts else everything in the entire house would be coated.
She glanced at Tristan, noting he was especially quiet today. Not that he ever spoke frequently. She debated whether to ask if something was on his mind. Silly to think she could help, but she wished she could. He’d done so much to assist her and Matthew, and she’d dearly like to return the favor.
Then she berated herself. Of course, he had much on his mind. He’d just lost a fiancée. That had to be creating some complications in his life.
“Is all well?” She pursed her lips as the question popped out before she could stop it.
“I’m poor company this morning, aren’t I? How rude of me.”
“Not at all. I’m sure you have much to think about these days.” She bit her lip before she said anything else so obvious.
“I have some concerns as to how Lady Samantha will behave in the days to come.”
Grace’s heart lurched. Did that mean they would reunite? She waited, hoping he’d say more to explain his worry, hoping it wasn’t what she thought it might be.
He glanced at her then ahead to Matthew, his mouth curving as he watched her son laughing as he rode. Then he sobered as he turned to her once more. “She can be...difficult at times.”
“Oh?” She had no idea where he was going with this conversation.
“Unkind even. I realize you don’t normally see her, but I would suggest you avoid her if possible. I don’t want her unpleasantness to spill onto you.”
Grace drew a deep breath as relief filled her. How kind of Tristan to worry over her when he was the one whose future plans were changing. Whether his future involved her remained to be seen. She was happy simply taking one day at a time and enjoying outings such as this one. While they’d agreed they were friends, the kisses they’d shared spoke of so much more. At least they had to her.
What she still wasn’t certain of was whether their embraces meant more—or anything—to Tristan. Maybe he shared such things with other women and this was all normal for him. The idea had her glancing at him from beneath her lashes, dismayed at the thought.
Oh, how she hoped not. Surely this was special—meaningful—to him as well as to her.
“Shall we stop by the water for a few minutes?” he suggested, gesturing toward the river, not far from where they’d found Matthew.
“That would be lovely.”
Tristan rode ahead to catch Matthew and Frederick, who slowed and turned toward the water. She caught up to join them.
After dismounting, Tristan stepped close to assist her. She placed her hands on his shoulders as he lifted her down, his grip holding her tight, lingering longer than necessary. Her breath hitched as their gazes met. Did he feel these eddies of emotion that pulled her to and fro?
His grey eyes darkened as she reached the ground. Still he didn’t release her. The horse blocked them from Matthew’s view. The intimacy of the moment had her attention falling to his lips, wondering if he’d kiss her. Wondering what it might be like if he did far more than simply kiss her.
Her curiosity went unfulfilled as he merely squeezed her waist before releasing her to secure their horses. She attempted to gain control of her reeling emotions as she moved toward Matthew, who searched for rocks along the riverbank.
“Oh, look,” he cried with delight then rose to show her his colorful find.
“That is a good one.”
“May I see?” Tristan asked from her side.
Matthew proudly displayed his prize before rushing off in search of others.
“He seems to be settling into life in London quite well.” Tristan offered his arm as they strolled behind Matthew.
Grace kept a watchful eye on her son, not wanting him to venture too close to the water. “I believe so. He’s had a few fitful nights filled with bad dreams since his venture here, but those are rarer and rarer. He is fond of his nanny and enjoys her lessons.”
“Obviously, you chose her well.”
Grace halted, looking at Tristan in surprise.
“What is it?”
“I suppose I hadn’t taken the time to realize I actually did choose the right person.” When Tristan sent her a puzzled look, she continued, “Charles often told me I didn’t know how to raise a titled lord and that was why they should stay with us. I suppose he picked up on eroding my confidence where Daniel left off.”
She shook her head, hating to admit how easily manipulated she’d been. It made her feel weak and stupid.
“Stannus had no business commenting on your affairs when you were already vulnerable from grief and shock.”
“When he and Lynette came to stay, I thought it would be helpful. After all, he was right. I knew nothing of how to properly raise a viscount, nothing of how to prepare Matthew for his future.” She turned to watch her son who so happily sorted through rocks on the bank. “Daniel never cared for Charles. I suppose I thought it was because they were so close in age, practically raised as brothers though they were cousins. Daniel insisted Charles had a mean streak and that he resented Daniel for inheriting the title and all that came with it.”
“Children are often mean to each other. Some adults don’t grow out of that.”
Tristan’s somber tone had her looking more closely at him. “It sounds as if you speak from personal experience.”
“My father was not a kind person. Perhaps he and Stannus would’ve gotten along well.” He offered a half smile as though to lighten the conversation, but it didn’t reach his eyes.
“That must’ve been difficult. To have a father like that.”
“More so for Nathaniel than me. Father was very hard on him.”
“Painful for you to bear witness to when you couldn’t say anything.”
“I should’ve said something.”
Grace took one of his hands in hers. “Such as what? Any effort to curtail your father’s words might’ve made the situation worse.”
He lifted a shoulder as though uncertain if he agreed.
“Your brother certainly doesn’t seem to resent you for any past hurts. Quite the opposite. His admiration and respect for you is evident when he speaks with you.”
His look of disbelief had her nodding. “It’s true. I’ve seen it.” She turned to watch Matthew. “I recognize it for a similar ex
pression is on Matthew’s face when he is with you.”
That comment had Tristan smiling, and this time, his eyes did as well. “I hope so. I enjoy spending time with him. That is one of the many things I admire about you. You’re an excellent mother.”
Grace hoped he was right. “All I know is that I love him dearly.”
“He is so kind and gentle with you. Very respectful. I think the best thing you can do as a mother is raise children to be good people who tend to do the right thing more often than not. The world would be a better place if parents taught their children that simple rule.”
Tristan’s wise words touched Grace deeply. “You will make an excellent father when you have children.”
He released her hand abruptly, his face tightening. “Perhaps one day.” He moved closer to Matthew, bending down to inspect the rapidly growing rock collection.
Had his childhood been so painful that he questioned her statement? She remembered how Lettie had mentioned that he was constantly compared to his father. Maybe this was a way she could help him and repay the many ways he’d helped her—by helping him see what a remarkable man he was and how much he had to give a child.
While she still wasn’t certain where their relationship might lead, she was growing more and more certain of what she wanted. She wanted Tristan, and, if she wasn’t mistaken, he felt the same about her.
For once in her life, she intended to put her own needs and wants first and pursue what she wanted. The idea of acting so boldly made her nervous but she was determined.
But how did she make it clear to Tristan that he was what she wanted?
Chapter Twenty
“When, however, we come to regard the long column that at a glance reveals the figures that pertain to vagrant committals for fifty successive years, a decided damper is thrown on one’s hopes that the trade of the shiftless roving vagabond is becoming surely though slowly extinguished.”
~The Seven Curses of London
Grace was relieved to see Julia and Viscount Frost upon her arrival at the party the next evening, as they’d promised. Learning to be brave enough to attend social events on her own must be a challenge for many widows. Grace was still working on her courage. It wasn’t that she missed having a man there, but she worried instead that she wouldn’t know anyone and would be left standing alone.
Rescuing the Earl (The Seven Curses of London Book 3) Page 20
