The admission sounded pained, but Tristan could sympathize. He didn't imagine that military officers sat around at night baring their souls. And as for himself, it had been a long time since he'd had anyone to confide in.
"I understand," he said. He hadn't been raised with expectations of inheriting a title, either. Quite the contrary, he'd been born the son of a second son, a mere mister who'd attended the right schools only on the largesse of his uncle. "I'm trying to make the best of my life, too."
Griffin nodded, looking uneasy.
These days, most everyone was uneasy around Tristan.
"Shall I have a look at your vineyard?" He drained his glass, set it down, and began to rise.
"It will have to wait until tomorrow." Waving him back down, Griffin refilled their glasses. "It's a good hour each way by horseback, and I'm expecting another caller shortly. A very acceptable suitor for Alexandra's hand."
Alexandra. Tristan pictured long dark curls and innocent young eyes. He wondered how she'd look all grown up.
He wondered if she'd have the same effect on him she used to.
"We'll ride over in the morning," Griffin added. "You'll stay, won't you? At least long enough to evaluate the situation?"
"I'll stay as long as I'm needed." Though Griffin's problem wasn't as pressing as Tristan had imagined, it had been a long time since he'd felt needed.
And a long time since he'd seen Lady Alexandra Chase.
THREE
"YOU LOOK lovely, Alexandra." Standing in the high gallery, Juliana tweaked her sister's low, ruffle-edged neckline. "Lord Shelton won't be able to resist you."
"Especially after he tries your magical ratafia puffs." Corinna grabbed one of the small sweets from the tray on a marble side table and popped it into her mouth. She sighed as it dissolved on her tongue. "François said they turned out perfect."
"Lord Shelton won't be able to try one if you eat them all first." Alexandra lifted the silver tray, smiling at the little golden puffs, which had been beautifully arranged by François, their French cook. "Come along, now. Lord Shelton is surely waiting." She hurried through the gallery, lifting her blue sprigged muslin skirts with one hand while carrying the fancy tray with the other.
Her sisters flanked her going down the wide stone staircase. "Gentlemen expect to wait for ladies," Juliana said. "It's not the thing to appear too eager."
"I don't care to play those silly feminine games," Alexandra said, gazing down at her sister.
Juliana was exceedingly short—so short she made Alexandra feel tall, although she and Corinna were rather average in height. Juliana, Alexandra had noticed in the brief time Griffin had been inviting his friends to pay calls, attracted men like bees to honey—most especially the shorter men.
Thankfully, Lord Shelton was tall.
On the first floor, Alexandra paused in the picture gallery outside the drawing room's door. Masculine voices drifted out. Griffin must have been entertaining her guest—or, more likely, trying to talk him into a proposal.
With any luck, his efforts would pay off.
She schooled her expression into a welcoming one and rounded the corner into the room. "Lord Shelton," she said pleasantly, "please excuse my tardiness. I hope these sweet confections will make up for the wait."
Lord Shelton turned and smiled, walking toward her. But her gaze shifted past him, to where another man stood beside her brother. As he turned slightly and she met his eyes—intense gray eyes she recalled from years before—her heart gave a little skip.
Tristan Nesbitt.
He still had the same strong jaw, the same long nose, the same heavy, straight brows. His skin was unfashionably bronzed, as though he'd spent much time outdoors, and his streaky brown-blond hair still looked tousled, as it used to—and still made her wish to run her fingers through it.
The mere sight of him robbed her of breath.
"Good afternoon, my dear," Lord Shelton said. "I was more than pleased to receive your invitation to take tea."
She tore her gaze from Tris. Lord Shelton looked pale in comparison, his skin a pasty white, his hair the lightest blond, his eyes an innocuous blue. Odd, his paleness had never made an impression on her before. It seemed almost as though he'd faded.
And he wasn't as tall as she'd thought. At least not when he was standing in the same room with Tris.
"Thank you for accepting the invitation," she murmured, struggling to remember her manners.
"I'm certain you girls recall Tristan," Griffin prompted.
Juliana and Corinna curtsied. "Mr. Nesbitt," they said in unison.
Dazed, Alexandra followed suit. "Mr. Nesbitt."
"The Marquess of Hawkridge now," her brother informed them. "Tristan inherited four years back."
Tris was titled now? How had that happened? And where had he been all this time? she wanted to ask. That and a million other questions. She hadn't seen him in…sweet heaven, was it seven years? While she hadn't precisely forgotten him in all that time, she had forgotten how just looking at him made her insides melt like butter.
Or maybe she'd banished that from her thoughts.
"Lord Hawkridge," she corrected herself.
"Lady Alexandra," he returned with a vague if polite nod. "And Ladies Juliana and Corinna. My, if you haven't all grown up since I saw you last."
Of course, when he saw Alexandra last, he'd paid her little mind. If he'd noticed her at all, he'd thought of her as Griffin's bothersome younger sister.
And he didn't seem to be paying her any mind now, either.
He turned back to Griffin. "Do you know what time of the year Charles planted the vines?"
"I haven't the foggiest idea," Griffin said.
Lord Shelton stepped closer.
