He felt, although could not see, Eme rolling her eyes once again. He resisted a childish urge to stick out his tongue at her.
“Speak up, Jonah, and quickly, before Tristan makes another long speech about the hardships he must endure.” Esme sashayed past him before plonking herself down in a cushioned window seat, closely followed by the adoring hound. “We are all ready and waiting for you to scatter your pearls of wisdom,” she said pointedly, settling her chin on her upturned palm.
Jonah cleared his throat. “You’ve said it yourself, Tristan. Father’s condition is temporary.” Jonah waved his hand about in a vague manner. None of the siblings were altogether sure what ailment had struck down their previously invulnerable father. “Your best recourse, surely, is to buy yourself time.”
Tristan leaned forward, his interest piqued. “How so?”
Jonah shrugged expansively. “Father is insisting you marry and produce an heir so that his line will be secure into the next generation.” His blue eyes glowed with momentary angst, causing Tristan to reflect that for as long as he did not produce an heir, Jonah would be next in line behind him to inherit the Earldom of Wolvesley. “But the need to marry you off has never bothered him unduly before. It seems likely that once he is recovered, some other matter will claim his attention.”
Tristan found himself nodding as his fingers drummed impatiently on his breeches. “Aye. But how does that help me now? Mother is planning a midsummer ball with a long line of ladies brought for my perusal.” He wrinkled his nose in distaste.
Tristan was not in the least averse to perusing ladies. But he was most uncomfortable with being forced into any situation. Marriage felt like it would be far more of a constraint on him than a blessing. With the wealth of the Wolvesley estate at his disposal, together with his natural good looks and gregarious charm, the heir to the Earl of Wolvesley had grown accustomed to dancing with whomever he pleased, dining wherever he pleased, and bedding whichever willing beauty caught his eye.
He had no intention of settling down and marrying any time soon.
Jonah opened his arms. “Tell Mother and Father you have already found true love. Then their match-making efforts will cease. And once Father is up and about again, your lady can break your heart and leave you free to return to doing as you please.”
Silence fell as they all digested this. Tristan repeated Jonah’s words to himself, looking for a flaw and finding none. Could it be that Jonah, of all people, had found a solution to his problem?
A low chuckle sounded from the window seat. “’Tis a fine idea.” Esme sat back, a faint breeze from the open windowruffling her blonde hair. “But you would need to be convincing, especially with Mother.”
“I can be convincing,” Tristan declared. His fingers beat out a rhythm on the arm of his chair as enthusiasm took hold. “God’s bones, if it gets me out of marrying some empty-headed heiress, I can be utterly convincing.” Someone tutted and Tristan swung his head to one side to see Mirrie in the act of bending down to collect the now empty tray. “You do not approve?”
She straightened up, hazel eyes looking directly at him. “I think only of the poor young woman you will enlist for this dishonest venture.”
Tristan shook his head, uncomprehending. “What of her?”
A sad smile played about Mirrie’s heart-shaped lips. “Exactly that.”
“She would have to be in on the plan,” Esme piped up, her eyes gleaming with excitement. “Someone we can trust.”
“And someone that Mother approves of.” This from Jonah, who was refilling his goblet of wine.
Tristan had not lifted his gaze from Mirrie’s hazel eyes. The solution was here before him. She was pretty and gentle and kind. A woman well-beloved of both his mother and his father.
And someone that he himself trusted above all others.
“I can think of the perfect person,” he said, softly.
A blush stained Mirrie’s cheeks as she understood his meaning. She shook her head and proclaimed, “Nay, I could never.”
But at the same time, Esme rose from the window seat and rushed forwards to grasp Mirrie’s hands. “Perfect indeed,” she gushed. Mirrie was still shaking her head, but Esme seemed blind to her hesitation. “You will save us all. Tristan will be free. And I will be able to return home. Not that Ember Hall isn’t beautiful,” she assured Callum. “But you know how I love the balls and excitement of Wolvesley Castle.” She turned again toMirrie. “As did you, back in the old days before you and Frida moved up here.”
“That’s right,” Jonah agreed. “I know you’ve missed the dances, Mirrie. You’ve told me so yourself.”
It was indeed the perfect solution. Tristan could not allow Mirrie to say no.
He stood up from his chair and moved into the centre of the circle. Nudging his sister aside, he took Mirrie’s slender hands in his and gazed down into her familiar face.
“What do you say?” he whispered, summoning up his most winning smile. “Will you save me, Mirrie?”
Chapter Two
What can Isay?
She could not escape the intensity of Tristan’s blue eyes, gazing down at her. Nor could she escape the firm grasp of his hands, nor the flush that was spreading up from her chest and neck.
I have ne’er been able to deny Tristan anything.
