Corinna had a pretty voice, and the music Juliana coaxed from her harp was nothing less than exquisite. But Tristan had eyes only for Alexandra. She'd removed her gloves, and her bare fingers, long and elegant, flew gracefully over the keys of the pianoforte. Though his ears told him the resulting tune was proficient rather than inspired, her playing had him enthralled.
She was wearing the cameo he'd sent her several years earlier, and he found himself entirely too pleased about that.
"Would you care for more?"
Tristan looked up to find Griffin standing over him with the bottle of port. "My thanks," he murmured, raising his glass.
Griffin settled beside him on the small gold brocade sofa. "Civilized, aren't they?" He gestured toward his sisters, all seated primly on dainty chairs with brocade seats and gilt backs. His chuckle was low enough not be heard across the room. "Whoever would have thought they'd actually grow up?"
Tristan smiled, but he'd always known Alexandra would turn out to be something special. A rather gangly girl, she'd grown into her looks during the years since he'd last seen her. Sweet curves now softened her slender frame. Her sooty-lashed brown eyes, which had always reminded him of warmed brandy, looked large in her delicately featured face. Her chestnut hair was the same as it had always been—so springy it seemed alive, refusing to stay pinned primly atop her head.
Any man would find her alluring.
But there was something else about her—something harder to put his finger on. Even as an adolescent she'd been responsible beyond her years, accomplished and more than competent…and yet, underneath, he'd sensed a melting romanticism, a yearning for love that the younger, more idealistic Tristan would have given anything to fulfill.
Then, as today, he'd sometimes sensed his feelings were returned—something in the way her eyes would soften when he caught her looking at him. But there had been no sense in pursuing anything. From the start, he'd known the Marquess of Cainewood would never allow his high-born daughter to wed the son of a common drunkard.
And nothing was different now.
True, his situation had changed, and his friend was the marquess now. But Griffin had new reasons to reject Tristan's suit—reasons even more damning than the ones Griffin's father would have objected to all those years ago.
Alexandra glanced over at him again, and a gentle smile curved her lips. He looked away and sipped. He would have to have a talk with her. He disliked discussing his circumstances, but honor compelled him to explain.
"What is life like at Hawkridge?" Griffin asked quietly.
Lonely, Tristan thought. He hadn't realized how lonely until now. But he wasn't looking for pity. "I keep busy," he said. "Doing very ungentlemanly things."
"Are you implying you work?" Griffin asked in mock horror.
"Incessantly, I'm afraid."
Griffin's laughter brought Alexandra's head up once more. She met Tristan's gaze, her eyes melting in that way that threatened his resolve.
But he wouldn't allow her to pierce his armor. Especially because, as her older brother, Griffin would see that nothing ever came of it.
"Hawkridge's restored vineyards are the least of my improvements," he said, turning deliberately to Griffin. "I'm building a gasworks. And I've found that careful land management produces significantly larger crops."
Griffin sipped slowly. "According to rumor, you've begun a new breeding program as well. Not just for horses, but common swine and sheep."
"Yes, I'm importing stock from distant estates. I ascribe to the theory that interbreeding produces weak animals."
"I look forward to learning more of this."
"I look forward to explaining it," Tristan told him with a smile.
Miraculously, it seemed that Griffin had remained his friend. Still more reason to steer clear of Alexandra. It wasn't worth ruining such a long-standing relationship over something that could never be.
When the song came to an end, instead of launching into another one, the sisters held a short, murmured conversation. Tristan saw Juliana nod before they all rose. As they started across the parquet floor, Alexandra's hand went up to touch the cameo she was wearing.
Yes, he had to explain things, difficult as that would be. Perhaps feigning indifference wasn't the hardest thing, after all.
"That was very nice, girls," Griffin said.
Although he knew his friend used the term with affection, Alexandra no longer struck Tristan as a girl. He looked away, staring blankly at the large gilt-framed mirror that hung above the white marble fireplace. The room seemed too hot. He tugged to loosen the cravat his valet had so carefully tied early that morning.
"Are you overly warm?" Juliana smiled sweetly. "Perhaps a walk along the battlements in the night air would help."
That sounded like an excellent idea. "I believe I shall take your suggestion," he said, beginning to rise. He needed to get out of here. He needed to think. He needed to plan carefully what he would say to Alexandra. Out of sight of her, and her beautiful eyes, and the cameo he'd given her dangling near her pert, filled-out breasts.
"I'm pleased you agree," Juliana said, still smiling. "Alexandra would be happy to accompany you."
FIVE
ALEXANDRA WAS shocked at Juliana's bold suggestion, and even more shocked when Tris—Lord Hawkridge, she reminded herself—paused, then nodded rather grimly and said, "That would be delightful."
He didn't sound delighted.
"Tristan," Griffin said in a quiet tone laced with warning. But Lord Hawkridge ignored Alexandra's brother, rising and taking her elbow, and she was too excited to pay Griffin any heed. She'd always followed the rules and obeyed authority, but it seemed she was changing more and more by the minute.
Lord Hawkridge had agreed to walk alone with her outdoors. Whether he was actually delighted or not, it was almost too good to be true. Maybe she would prove able to make him notice her in the short time he'd be here.
In silence he steered her from the room. In silence they descended the staircase and walked outside into the quadrangle.
