Chapter Twenty-Three – A Jealous Heart
After spending the better part of the day walking around Hyde Park to clear his head, Tristan reluctantly returned to his townhouse, his mind still a fuzzy mess, and as if that weren’t enough, a mild headache was slowly creeping up his temples.
“Just in time for supper,” Derek observed as Tristan walked through the front door into the foyer. His dark eyes narrowed as he looked his friend over. “You look awful. Did the walk not clear your head?”
Frowning at his friend, Tristan stopped. “How did you−? Did you follow me?”
Derek merely shrugged before walking off in the direction of the dining room. “I’d advise you to stay away from your uncle’s house. However, since you’ll disregard anything I say on the matter out of principal as it seems, I’ll save my breath. Come, I’m famished.”
Following his friend, Tristan grumbled under his breath despite the relief he felt at Derek’s presence. “Where have you been the last few days? Considering you’re a guest in my house, I was surprised not to see you at breakfast or supper? Were you avoiding me? Is something wrong?”
Stopping in his tracks, Derek turned to look at him, the touch of an incredulous smile tickling the corners of his mouth. “Whatever made you think that? As you are aware, I am not one to evade an issue that bothers me. If something were indeed wrong, I would have informed you of it.”
Tristan nodded. “Yes, mostly that is true. However,−”
“Mostly?” Derek asked, a frown drawing down his brows.
“−you tend to keep things to yourself,” Tristan went on, ignoring his friend’s objection. He drew in a deep breath. “Then, where were you? It’s not as though you could afford a place of your own, and you’ve made it perfectly clear that it is only your concern for my hide that keeps you in Town.”
Although Derek’s face darkened at the reminder of his financial predicament, he merely sighed. “I did sleep here. However, as your friend, I felt it my obligation to keep my distance to give you time to get better acquainted with your new wife.”
Tristan’s eyes narrowed in disapproval. “Then what are you doing here now?”
“Since you’ve made it a habit to evade your charming wife,” Derek chided, “I might as well enjoy the superior skills of your cook.” Then he turned on his heel and marched off toward the dining room.
Rubbing his temples, Tristan followed. His feet, however, instantly stopped when he found his wife enter the dining room from the opposite direction. For a long moment, they stood across from each other as he took in the stunning glow of her azure eyes as well as the hauntingly beautiful smile playing on her lips. A touch of mischief seemed to rest in her gaze as it slid over his face in intimate perusal, reminding him of the night of the masked ball.
Their eyes meeting across the room was how it had all begun not too long ago, and he once more felt that strange magnetism as though he needed to get closer, as though his place was by her side.
“My lady,” Derek greeted her with a slight bow. “I hope you don’t mind me intruding on your supper.”
For a moment longer, she held Tristan’s gaze before turning to look at his friend, a charming smile on her face that sent a rather unexpected jolt of jealously through Tristan’s heart. “Not at all, Lord Ainsworth. Since my husband is a rather taciturn man, I am delighted to have someone to converse with.” Again, a mischievous twinkle lit up her eyes as she glanced at him, and Tristan could not help but wonder how she could be so cheerful under these circumstances.
Seated at the head of the table, his wife opposite him and his friend in-between, Tristan soon found himself a mere observer as they conversed about Derek’s barony.
“It is a beautiful piece of land,” his friend explained. “Unfortunately, the last baron was quite negligent. The manor is in awful condition and, therefore, in dire need of improvement.”
“Have you hired people to work on it while you’re staying in town?” Beth asked, her attention completely fixed on Derek. Once again, Tristan felt a touch of displeasure. The previous nights she had done her utmost to engage him in conversation, but now barely noticed his presence.
To Tristan’s great displeasure, it stung, and he cursed himself for caring so much. After all, his uncle still expected him to send her to Hampton Hall.
“Unfortunately, that is not possible, my lady,” Derek explained, “since the barony−while not in debt−is barely able to sustain itself now. Therefore, it falls to me to travel there as soon as I possibly can,” he gave Tristan a sideways glance, “and see to the improvements myself.”
“Oh, how fascinating!” Beth exclaimed, her eyes sparkling with a sense of adventure. “Do you have the skill to restore the building yourself?”
Derek nodded. “I’ve only recently been made a baron, but grew up in simple circumstances and am used to working with my hands. I do not mind at all. Quite on the contrary, I find such work immensely satisfying.”
“I quite understand,” Beth mumbled, momentarily lost in thought before she returned her attention to their guest. “I myself grew up in similar circumstances, and although it is delightful not to have to do back-breaking work from sunup to sundown, there is something infinitely pleasing about accomplishing something on one’s own without relying on others.”
Derek nodded knowingly, and Tristan could not help but glare at his friend.
Despite his misgivings, Tristan had felt strangely proud of the instant connection he had felt with his wife upon meeting her. However, now it seemed she might have chosen the wrong man. In fact, his wife’s radiant blue eyes and golden tresses contrasted in a striking way with his friend’s raven black hair and dark countenance.
Rubbing his temples yet again, Tristan took a deep breath as his emotions ran rampant. What was he to do? Ought he truly send her away? Or was there a chance for them to become husband and wife in the truest sense? Did she truly care for him? Or did she merely find him passable as a husband but would get along equally well with his friend?
As his head hammered with unanswered questions, Tristan sat back in his chair, willing himself not to care that his wife’s eyes no longer sought his attention, but were completely taken in with Derek’s explanation of how he intended to fix up the old manor house.
By the time, they finished dessert, Tristan was fidgeting in his chair, the muscles in his jaw tense as he glared from one to the other, annoyingly irritated by the fact that neither one of them seemed to be aware of his presence any longer.
“Well, that was a wonderful meal,” Derek exclaimed as he rose from his chair. “Thank you, my lady, for such a wonderful evening.” Bowing to her, he stepped back, and his gaze fell on Tristan. “Are you all right? You seem a bit out of sorts.”
Gritting his teeth, Tristan stood, forcing a smile on his face. “I am merely a bit tired,” he said, waving away his friend’s concern without being rude. After all, it was not Derek’s fault that Tristan currently lived in an emotional hell.
“Then I shall take my leave,” Derek announced. “My lady. Tristan. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
As he strode toward the door, Tristan belatedly realised that with his friend gone, he would be forced to interact with his wife−a thought which immediately brought on a sense of doom. “Would you mind if I accompany you?” he blurted out a bit too hastily, a sense of desperation in his voice.
Derek stopped, and his gaze narrowed as he looked back at him. “I suggest you get some sleep,” he declined, the look in his eyes insistent as they shifted from Tristan to his wife. “We shall speak in the morning.”
And then he was gone.
And Tristan was alone with his wife.
“Well, I’m off to bed,” he mumbled without a look at his wife and immediately strode toward the door.
His wife chuckled, “It’s barely nine o’clock, Tristan. Are you truly tired or are you running away from me?”
Unable to keep himself from turning toward her, Tristan found the muscles in his jaw tight to the point of breaking. “I’m not running away, my lady,” he forced out, barely aware that the tone in his voice could easily be interpreted as threatening. “I am merely tired and plan on reading a little before turning in. Does that satisfy your curiosity, my lady?”
Smiling, Beth stepped around the table, her dainty feet carrying her closer and closer. “Do you do this a lot? Read before bed?” Her eyes held his as she waited for his answer.
Tristan swallowed. “Indeed, I do.” Then he quickly turned around and all but fled the room. Walking down the corridor, he crossed the hall and then headed toward the library, hoping to give his words at least some credibility by at least choosing a book.
As he stood before the large rows of volumes, Tristan did not know where to start when dainty footsteps echoed on the parquet behind him. Steeling himself, he drew in a deep breath. “Can you recommend something?” he asked, hoping to change the subject as the fresh scent of her skin and the soft aroma of honeysuckle drifted to his nose.
“Why don’t you call me Beth anymore?”
Reluctantly, Tristan turned to face her. “I never did,” he replied, surprised to see honest regret in her blue eyes. “Not once.”
“Yes, you did.” She nodded, then took a step closer, her gaze burning into his. “Once.”
Tristan frowned, fighting down the urge to approach her. “When?”
Instantly, her eyes lit up, and a mischievous curl came to her lips. “Let me remind you,” she whispered before crossing the short distance between them and sliding her hands up his chest in the next instant.
Tristan drew in a sharp breath as his pulse began to hammer in his veins, and the world around him started to fall away.
As she pushed herself up onto the tips of her toes, her hands brushed by his neck, her skin warm and soft against his, before they drew him down toward her. “Do you still not remember?” she whispered against his lips.
Closing his eyes, Tristan fought down the overpowering desire to pull her into his arms when he suddenly realised at what point he had spoken his wife’s name.
Damn you, Beth.
The words echoed in his ears, and he remembered only too well how he had kissed her that night. “I do remember,” he whispered, then opened his eyes and found her smiling back at him.
“Say it again.” Holding his gaze, she brushed a finger along the line of his jaw, sending chills down his back. “I like the sound of my name on your lips.”
Tristan swallowed as her last word drew his attention from her eyes down to her mouth.
Instantly, it curved up into a wickedly alluring smile, beckoning him to kiss her again.
For a long moment, Tristan hesitated, rooted to the spot as though time had stopped. Then ever so slowly he lowered his head to hers, all rational thought abandoned by the memory of their shared night.
However, a hair’s breadth away from her lips, he stilled as the sound of his uncle’s teacup shattering against the wall once more echoed in his ears.
Instantly, his head snapped up. “I should go,” he mumbled, stepping back and freeing himself from her embrace.
In answer, the smile slid off her face, and honest disappointment came to her eyes. “Is this about your uncle?”
As though slapped, Tristan spun around to face her. “What?”
“Your uncle,” she repeated, the line of her lips hard as she regarded him with disapproval. “I admit I only met him once, but that was more than enough to know that he despises me. He looked at me as though I took something from him, as though I robbed him of his place in life.” She shook her head. “And it was not out of concern for you.”
“Do you truly believe you can do what you did without consequences?” Tristan hissed, crossing his arms before his chest as he stared down at her. “Of course, he dislikes you. Honourable people do not act the way you did.”
Again, she shook her head as she came toward him. “Convince yourself of that if you want,” she said, a hint of warning in her voice. “However, I fail to see the reason for your uncle’s disregard for me when not even you see me like that.”
Stunned, Tristan stared at her for a long moment. “Have I not told you how I despise the way you lured−”
“You have,” she interrupted, her blue eyes piercing his soul. “Again and again, you’ve accused me of trapping you into marriage even after I offered to explain how this misunderstanding came to be.”
Again, she took a step closer, and as though in answer, Tristan took a step back.
Instantly, her eyes narrowed, a knowing smile coming to her lips. “Why are you so afraid to admit that you care for me?” she demanded, her voice impatient as she placed her hands on his arms, urging him to drop the barrier between them. “You liked me that night at the ball. You liked me on our wedding night.” Tristan swallowed. “You do even now, or you wouldn’t have cringed every time I smiled at your friend at supper.”
Tristan opened his mouth in protest.
“Tell me I’m wrong!” she demanded, her jaw clenched as she fixed him with a hard stare. “Why won’t you admit how you truly feel? Am I such a disgrace to your family that you cannot allow yourself to care for me? I don’t believe that’s the case. To tell you the truth, I believe that it is merely your uncle’s opinion that keeps you from calling me by my name, that keeps you from kissing me, from sharing my bed because you clearly want to.” With one last step, she stood pressed against him, her arms grasping the sides of his head, pulling him down to her as she held his gaze. “Tell me what you want.”