"But I have only"—he glanced at the tall-case clock—"four more hours to match Alexandra."
"Four hours? I hesitate to dash your expectations, but it's likely to take longer than that. I've been searching for a husband for four seasons."
Four seasons, Griffin thought. Good God. If it took his sisters that long, he'd be well into his thirties before he could concentrate on his own life. "Have you had no offers in all that time?"
"Oh, only about a hundred." She laughed with him for a moment, but then sighed, the tip of her tongue sneaking out to moisten her lips. The sight generated a ball of heat that smacked him in the chest and spread down, making his body stir in areas it had no business stirring. "My parents shared a special love," she said softly. "I wish for no less. I'll wait until I find it."
"I see." Griffin danced silently for a few measures, wondering if his sisters were that idealistic. He wanted them to be happy, but four seasons was a long time. Of course, Rachael had been busy overseeing the earldom during that time, too. Perhaps she hadn't paid enough attention to her courtships. "Have you made progress preparing the master chamber for your brother's arrival?"
"Yes, much." Her good cheer returned. "It hasn't been as difficult as I expected. I haven't gone through anything very personal yet, but packing Mama's and Papa's clothes away has actually recalled many pleasant memories."
"I'm glad," he told her with a smile. She smiled back—a smile that lit up the entire great hall as they whirled across the crowded dance floor. No one else smiled like Rachael—she put her whole soul into it. He couldn't imagine why, in four seasons, no man had managed to snatch her up. She was so open and refreshing.
The music stopped, but he held her a little longer, a little closer, thinking that if he were in the market for a wife, he'd want one exactly like her.
Had he really thought that? he wondered, pulling back. He must be getting soft in the head. This matchmaking business was entirely too much pressure.
She looked bemused, her cerulean eyes wide and opaque. "Um, thank you for the dance."
"Thank you," he said, "for being such a sport. I shall have a talk with Juliana. It won't happen again."
TWENTY-THREE
"WHAT DO YOU think of my son?"
"Oh, he seems a fine young man." Casting about for a way to redirect the conversation, Alexandra lifted a silver tray off a nearby table and held it out to Lady St. Quentin. "Would you care for another marzipan fruit?"
"Why yes, dear, I would." She chose a miniature bunch of grapes. "These remind me of your sweet mother."
"There you are!" Corinna barged into the refreshment room. "You must see something, Alexandra."
"One moment, Corinna." Alexandra smiled apologetically at Lady St. Quentin. "Indeed, Mama made these most every time she held an entertainment. We could but do the same. It's one of our traditions."
"I admire a traditional lady. Do you expect you and my son might suit?"
"Alexandra—"
"I'm pleased the marzipan brought back good memories, Lady St. Quentin. If you'll excuse me." Still carrying the tray, Alexandra hurried off with Corinna. "What could be so important?"
"Did you really want to answer her question about her son? Just come with me."
Huffing out a breath, Alexandra lifted her skirts and followed her sister to the far end of the great hall, into the corridor, and up a dark, narrow flight of stairs. "You know what a gossip Lady St. Quentin is. I danced with her milksop son, hoping she'd think well of us. Now she'll be telling everyone we're rude."
"Oh, do stop being such a fusspot," Corinna said as they stepped onto the landing.
Juliana was waiting there by a door. "What are you worried about now?"
"Nothing," Alexandra said.
"Not nothing," Corinna disagreed. "She's fears Lady St. Quentin might think her less than a perfect hostess."
"If you stopped worrying about what everyone thinks, maybe you could find happiness." With that annoying proclamation, Juliana slowly opened the door. Music floated up and through it from the great hall. "Look," she whispered.
There, in the minstrel's gallery, stood Tris. His back to the door, he leaned on the balcony's rail, gazing down on the festivities below.
Alexandra didn't know whether she was angry with her sisters or grateful to them. She wasn't sure whether she should go to Tris or leave. Juliana solved her dilemma with a little push. By the time Alexandra turned around, the door had been quietly shut behind her.
The torches in the great hall threw light and shadow into the minstrel's gallery. For a moment, she just drank Tris in. His shoulders looked tense beneath the fine, dark blue tailcoat; his hair grazed the collar in the back. He'd be leaving before nightfall tomorrow. This might be the last time she'd ever be alone with him.
Taking a deep breath, she walked closer. "Would you care for a sweet?" she asked over the music.
Tris started, then turned to face her. "No. Thank you."
He looked different tonight. Perhaps it was the formal clothing, or perhaps it was because his hair was combed neatly for once. Or perhaps it was because the more time she'd spent with other men, the more she'd become convinced he was the only one she wanted.
As he met her eyes, an odd tingle erupted in the pit of her stomach. She held his gaze for a moment, finding nothing encouraging there, nothing to lead her to believe anything had changed. But over the course of the evening, everything had changed for her.
She was just now realizing how much.
Although he was stone-faced, she gave him a little smile. "How did you get back inside?"
"One of the servants' entrances, a few passageways, a set of back stairs. I learned my way around long ago, playing hide-and-seek with Griffin."
Of course. Tris had history here. It just wasn't with her.
"I thought you were
