He could think of better ways to find release, but none that could be indulged this night at Ember Hall.
At that moment, Mirrie returned holding a heavy tray, which she carefully lowered onto a wooden table beside Tristan. Too late, he realised he should have taken it from her.
“I have brought in some freshly-baked honey cakes,” she said with a small smile.
“Just what we need.” Tristan strained to inject enthusiasm into his voice.
“Aye, to sweeten the atmosphere in here.” Esme widened her eyes when Tristan shot her a disapproving look. “’Tis true, brother. You should stop this ceaseless complaining.”
Tristan bit into one of the soft cakes and allowed himself a moment of pleasure as his mouth filled up with sweetness. “I do not want to find myself in a situation like Isabella,” he said, after he had swallowed.
Even Callum chuckled at that. “With a spouse some forty years your senior?”
“In a marriage that has not brought her happiness,” Tristan persisted.
Callum shook his dark head, eyes twinkling. “The Earl of Felsham was an old man when Isabella danced at her first ball. An equivalent match, for yourself, would hardly help with your need to continue the de Neville line.” He lifted a honey cake in a mock salute. “I do not expect that to be your destiny, Tris.”
Esme nodded approvingly at her brother-in-law. “Exactly.” She returned her gaze to Tristan. “You know as well as I do that Mother and Father will invite a dazzling array of young heiresses to the midsummer ball. Many a man would welcome such a fate.” She swiped another cake from the tray. “Just pick a bride and hurry up about it. ’Tis I who will suffer, being obliged to stay all the way up here, far from anything of import, until you do.”
Tristan glanced down at Mirrie, still standing by his side. “What do you think?” he asked her gruffly. “Are you on their side, or mine?”
She straightened up but did not meet his eye. “I think your attention is fixed on the wrong thing.”
Her unexpected reprimand was a shock. Mirrie kept her eyes fixed on the floor, but her sweet voice was firm.
“Your father is ill,” she continued, her voice gaining volume and conviction the longer she spoke. “That is, after all, why he is ordering you to marry with such haste. That is why you have brought Esme here from Wolvesley.” She looked up pointedly at Esme, who pouted a little in return. “’Tis all so your father can recuperate in peace. And so your mother can concentrate on finding you a suitable bride.” Mirrie’s shoulders hunched. “It is unlikely you will be given no choice in the matter, Tristan. And in that, you are far more fortunate than I can ever hope to be.”
He was winded by surprise. But Mirrie had not yet finished.
“Imagine yourself a spinster without a dowry. Then consider what marriage prospects you may have.”
Tristan recovered his wits and waved her concerns aside with what he hoped was a reassuring air. “First of all, my father’s health is bound to improve before long. He’s the Earl of Wolvesley. He’s as strong as an ox.” He nodded to give emphasis to his words and saw Esme nodding along with him. Both of them were utterly convinced that their hale and hearty father would soon bounce back to his customary excellent health. “Second of all, what is this talk of you not having a dowry?” He put his hands on his hips and lowered his brow. “You are Father’s ward and he loves you like his own. Of course he will see you rightly settled, when the time comes.”
“And the time might come soon, might it not?” Jonah interjected, with something of a challenge in his voice. “The new physician in the village has shown quite an interest in our Mirrie.”
Mirrie sniffed and turned her face away. Callum was the one to speak up next.
“Methinks dear Mirrie can do better than a blabbermouth who thinks mainly of coin.”
“What’s this?” Jonah cocked an eyebrow.
“David Bryce became most attentive toward Mirrie when he discovered she was your father’s ward,” Callum drawled. “’Tis no crime to have an eye to an advantageous match. But no great credit to him either.”
Tristan had opened his mouth to agree, but now he found he had lost his train of thought.
Why does the notion of some village physician paying court to Mirrie make me so uneasy?
Mirrie pulled her shawl about her shoulders, despite the heat, and walked closer to the window. “You are wrong about the physician. David Bryce is polite and attentive to everyone,but he pays no special notice to me,” she said mildly, alleviating Tristan’s alarm only a little. “Your family have always been very kind to me,” she added. “I did not mean to appear ungrateful.”
“And nor did you appear so.”
Tristan glanced over at Jonah who was seated comfortably in an over-stuffed armchair. That was the first sensible thing he had said all evening.
“Quite right,” Tristan agreed. He had to get out of this stifling hall and walk over the fields. Some vigorous exercise would surely clear his head.
But Jonah fixed him with his piercing blue gaze. “If you will hear me, brother, I have a suggestion.”
In truth, Jonah was the last person Tristan would look to for advice. But he brushed cake crumbs from his tunic and nodded with what he hoped was a genuine-looking smile. “I will gladly hear you.” Suppressing his urge to flee, he settled himself in the nearest chair and crossed his long legs at the ankle. “Forsooth, I am relieved to know that at least one member of my family has some interest in my happiness.”
