Midnight Temptations With a Forbidden Lord (30 page)

“I just need time,” she pleaded.

“Time for what?” Would she look for reasons not to make their marriage work because she wasn’t sure how to deal with his children? “Do you want to mope about? To think through the consequences now that we are already married? I will say this one more time; you cannot hide in our bedchamber. You are now a part of this family and will participate in its activities.”

She drew back from him. “What of the adjustment for your children? Are you going to force my company on them?”

“You’ll find they are more forgiving and accepting than most grown men and women.”

Charlotte’s shoulders slumped as she released a long frustrated breath. “All I’m asking is that you give me the rest of the day to sort out my thoughts, Tristan.”

He nodded. “No more than today.” He put his fingers under her chin and gazed into her dark blue eyes. “We’ll have to share our chambers again soon. I don’t want anyone questioning the distance between us.”

She opened her mouth to protest.

“If it makes you more comfortable, I can sleep on the sofa. Now, I’m off to get ready to see Jez. She’s been hiding away at the Fallon residence these past few weeks, and I want to draw her out before she becomes a hermit.”

“Is she a close
friend
?” She squeezed her fists in the material of her dress.

“Yes. And before you let jealousy spark any thicker in your tone, you should know she’s like a sister to me. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for her.”

He left her standing in the middle of the room as he went into his dressing room. He pulled a bell to call his valet up. If he dressed quickly enough, he’d have at least half an hour with Jez and he’d be home in time for luncheon with Charlotte and his children.

Charlotte followed him, standing at the threshold of his private dressing room. He should move his things out of here and into the other master bedroom. She would need a place to hang her dresses, and it wouldn’t be practical to share. He’d think on it when he returned home.

“I might not know you well yet, Tristan, but I do know you have one of the kindest hearts of any man I’ve ever known—and that includes my father.”

Dixon interrupted his response. Not that he knew precisely what he intended to say to her compliment. Charlotte retreated back to the bedchamber. He heard her scribbling out the rest of the note he’d stopped her from writing. Their first conversation since yesterday hadn’t turned out too badly.

*   *   *

Jez was in the garden. Why in bloody hell was she here? Tristan was positive she’d never pruned a rose in her life. The footman closed the door behind him and Jez stood up from the ground where she knelt and wiped the back of her gloved hand across her forehead, smearing dirt over her temples.

Her red hair was upswept, a wide purple bandeau tied around it, but strands of hair had escaped here and there. He wasn’t sure he’d ever seen her so ill presented, not even when she was under the weather. Why hadn’t he stopped by sooner? They attended a ball together a week ago, but apparently a lot could change in that time.

“What’s gotten into you, love? I’ve never seen you holding a pair of gardening shears for as long as I’ve known you.”

There was a pile of roses and other flowers in the center of her back garden. Some were in perfectly good condition, others gnarled, twisted, and dead.

“I am pulling out all the rot left in this house.”

So she was still purging herself of whatever reminders her husband had left behind. Tristan couldn’t blame her in the least; she’d had a hard life with that man—a life he wouldn’t wish on his worst enemy.

“Can I help you? Or, better yet, can I fetch your gardener?”

Jez stabbed the shears deep into the ground, and smacked off the dirt encrusted on her gloves on the coveralls she’d donned to protect her … trousers? Since when did Jez wear men’s clothes? Too many firsts today were throwing him off balance.

“I think we should get you inside, have some lemonade brought to the drawing room.” He motioned with his hands toward the door. Jez only looked at him with her face screwed up tight.

“If you’re parched, lemonade can be served out here. Time is of the essence now, there’s too much to be done. I can’t stop yet.”

Jez picked up a towel, poured out some water, and washed off her face. She invited him to sit on the lawn furniture.

“What’s brought you by?”

“I wanted to tell you that I am leaving for the country—for an extended stay. I couldn’t leave without a proper good-bye.”

“Leaving?” she asked.

“In light of the events in my household that have unfolded these last few days, yes. It’s quite necessary, you see.”

She gave him a thorough look. “What events would drive
you
to the country in the middle of a Parliament session?”

Her question gave him pause. “You really don’t know?”

“I’ve not left the house for … a few days.”

Why had she hestitated in answering? How long had it been since she’d left the house? “Are you quite all right?” Since when did his friend not know the latest gossip?

“Believe it or not, I’m starting to feel more like my old self. I’m still not sure what I’ll do when I lose this house.” She looked around her with a frustrated sigh. “I asked Warren to put me up in the dowager house, but he refused. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised.”

“When did you speak with him?”

“He stopped by a few days ago, asked how I fared. He’s probably looking for signs of whether I’m increasing or not. He is anxious to take on the title.”

“He’ll be doing so without a wife,” Tristan informed Jez.

That got Jez’s attention, for she stared at him curiously, a slow grin forming on her lips. “The new Earl of Fallon won’t have an heir in the belly of a new bride? I take it you’ve succeeded where the Ponsley chit is concerned.”

“You might say that, but I wouldn’t be so callous about the situation. I married her instead.”

Jez wasn’t often shocked, but the way her eyes widened and her mouth dropped open ever so slightly, he knew he’d done just that—shocked her.

“When precisely did you have time to wed?” she asked in a rush.

“Only yesterday.” Tristan grinned, knowing full well that he’d have to explain himself in more detail. He hadn’t told Jez of his developing relationship with Lady Charlotte since that first ball—truth was, he hadn’t discussed it with anyone.

“Only yesterday? You make me feel as though I’ve been living under a rock.”

“Hastily done, it was.” There was a measure of pride with the revelation of his swift union.

“You didn’t waste time with the banns, I see.” Jez leaned back in the cushioned wicker chair. “It’s probably for the best. Ronnie is going to need a mother if she’s to be given the opportunity to debut.”

“You know that is impossible.”

“All I know is that nothing is truly impossible. You could find her an impoverished lord. They’re always looking for an heiress. By the time she’s grown up, there will be more than a few titles her fortune could save.”

“She’s ten. Let’s not make haste with my daughter’s future.” Tristan tugged at his cravat, uncomfortable with the direction of their conversation. “Why don’t you join us in Birmingham, Jez?”

“Thank you, but rusticating is simply not my style,” she said drolly. “I have a house to clean my husband’s stench from. I daresay his evil has seeped into the very foundation.”

He hated to leave his friend—she was somehow … broken. After all the years of abuse she’d suffered, the endless excuses she’d had to make for the bruises on her arms, her neck, even her face on occasion, she’d always held her head high. Was she truly defeated now that she was free of the bonds of the horrid marriage she’d endured?

“It was worth asking. And if at any time you want to join me, I’d be more than happy to entertain you, introduce you to my wife. Ronnie would love to have you, too.” He reached over and took Jez’s hand; it was cool to the touch. “No worries if you can’t spare the time. While you’re here, though, you’ll have to keep Leo in line. He’s after that chaperone.”

Jez gave him a wide smile. “Leo has gone back to the countryside only this morning. He, too, has news to share.”

Had Leo taken Tristan’s advice and obtained a special license for when he found his missing chaperone?

“So Miss Camden did stay here with you. I thought the rumor balderdash when I heard it.”

Jez used her straw hat as a fan to cool her reddened cheeks and neck. “What a darling creature she is. She was here less than a week, and she kept me in high spirits with her tenacity and her verve for life.”

Had Miss Camden kept Jez on her feet as she had Tristan and Leo all those weeks ago at the Carleton dinner party? He smiled, knowing full well she probably had.

“You find that amusing,” she said.

“I do. I’m acquainted with her and find her charming beyond reason.” Tristan stood, needing to be on his way. “You don’t require an invitation if you feel the need for some solitude up north.”

“Your offer is kind, but I have Hayden to keep in line while the rest of you are off
rusticating.
” She stood from her chair and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “You seem happy with your decision. Congratulations on your marriage, Tristan.”

“I am happy.” He brushed a few loose strands of hair from Jez’s brow. “You really look a mess. Let your gardener handle this and spend the afternoon outdoors under an elm with an ice in hand. Otherwise, I’ll worry while I’m away.”

“Hayden’s dragging me about Town tonight for this and that.”

Hopefully Hayden could keep Jez in higher spirits, enough to return her to her old self. She was a changed woman and hopefully for the better.

“I’ll write while I’m away,” he promised.

Jez ushered him out of the garden and toward the house. “You’ll be here all day if you don’t leave now. I’m doing much better than I was at my husband’s funeral. I promise you.”

He shook his head. “I hope that to be true. But honestly, Jez, what kind of man would I be if I didn’t worry after my friends, especially in their time of need?”

“My time of need has passed. And luckily, I have a long future without that blackguard husband of mine. We both know that he would have eventually been the death of me.”

Tristan wasn’t sure if she meant Fallon would have gone too far and killed her with his hands, or damaged her in some way psychologically. Thank God they’d never have to find out the answer to that question.

“My bride is probably wondering where I am.”

“I’m not the one keeping you,” she pointed out.

“Adieu, darling.”

He left with a heavy heart. He would have to trust Hayden to look out for her. In fact, he’d send a note to his friend on his return home.

Chapter 17

Lady H
^____
has been banished to the countryside. I do not imagine her daughter’s prospects to be very good with all the sordid business surrounding their family right now.
—The Mayfair Chronicles,
August 1846 “Welcome to Hailey Court,” Tristan said as he took Charlotte’s hand to assist her from the carriage.

Charlotte stared up at the house before them. It was larger than anything she’d ever had the pleasure of being in and very nearly a castle. The road leading up to the grand house must have been three miles long. Unlike the Carletons’ estate, there didn’t look to be any houses nearby.

The Tudor-style house stretched up three stories in yellow stone, and there was a turret and walkway atop. On either side of the center building there were two-story structures that turned into a U shape where she could just make out the deep brown wood and masonry siding covered with climbing ivy.

At least thirty staff members were lined up outside on the yellow-cobbled road. Tall wildflowers danced along the edge of the building and trimmed hedges were lined up neatly beneath each window like tin soldiers on watch.

Tristan stopped to speak to each of the maids, kitchen staff, footmen, and finally the butler and housekeeper. He introduced Charlotte to everyone along the way. He knew their work lives and something of their personal affairs. Her father had never cared about the staff in this way and Charlotte found the marquess’s personable manner refreshing.

Finished with introductions, he held out his arm for her to take. “Shall I show you around the house, or would you prefer to rest until the supper hour?”

“I’d like a small tour.” She slipped her arm through his as a footman opened the Gothic double doors into her new home.

The entrance hall was large, airy, and welcoming. The walls were paneled with dark walnut that stretched the length of the room and toward a vaulted ceiling painted the lightest of blues. A rich Persian rug was centered beneath a round wooden table over the gray shale floor. A massive set of closed double doors lay directly across from the front door of the entrance hall. There were Gothic-style doors to her right and left. One was open, revealing a long corridor that stretched the length of the house; she could make out inlaid doors at various intervals.

Tristan led her straight through to the closed door ahead of them. Pushing the door inward, he revealed a large sitting room that stretched two stories high with a wall of paned windows.