Peter away from the doorway . “Now tell me about the Earl of Danchester’s daughter. I’ve evidently been caught with my accounts too long.”
Peter smiled . “Trying to change the subject again. I would’ve thought you’d know all the gossip. You normally are so far ahead of it that I’ve always figured you started half of it.”
Tristan smile d in response. The door swung open and Marguerite stood before them.
“So you have decided to return home . Are you going to introduce me to our guest, my husband?”
Chapter Six
Marguerite fought the urge to turn and flee as Tristan stalked in the door. Bravery only went so far. The first spurt of words had burst out of her, leaving nothing in their wake. It had been so effortless to plan her return while safe in the carriage. Even this morning when she’d awoken to find him already gone she’d held strong with ease. It was quite another to find courage when under the glare of six-feet of hard masculinity.
Tristan stared at her . The light flowed in the door behind him and she fought to keep from squinting. He was tense, his shoulders drawn back, his neck held stiffly.
“What are you doing here?” he asked.
“I believe that since our marriage I live here.”
Silence again . She pressed her lips together. She refused to start rambling no matter how long he stared.
It was hard to see him with the sunlight filtering in . Marguerite waited another moment for him to speak and then walked down the stairs and turned into the parlor. She did not look back to see if he followed.
She sat in the same seat from which she’d confronted her mother . She drew in each breath carefully and held it. She must be calm. If she could survive this one meeting without giving in maybe she would stand a chance at some independence. She was not a puppet to be moved at will. He had wanted this marriage, pushed her to it – let him live with it.
Tristan strode into the room, a second man following behind . “You were supposed to have gone to the country. I saw you leave – yesterday. We decided it was for the best. Did you forget something? You should have just had it sent for.”
Marguerite concentrated on drawing in another breath. Why did the dratted man do this to her? She counted to five. Focused on the leaves of the palm in the corner. Released her breath. “I decided not to go.”
She looked up, trying to focus on anything but him. Was the man behind Tristan grinning? Had Tristan told this man about the baby? Marguerite wasn’t sure how to respond. Tristan still had not introduced them.
“I will be more comfortable here with you,” she said. “I do not know anyone at Glynwolde and have never been one for long rambling walks and I do not ride – not that I would in my condition. I have a strong dislike of horses and other large animals. What would be the advantage of my being there a few days earlier?”
“Well, the air . As I said, the air.” Tristan nodded his chin decisively.
“I find the air here quite satisfactory and I am sure that your cook has never served anything spoilt in all her days. And I doubt the gardens are producing much given the frost. I imagine that a hothouse cucumber is the same whether in Town or the country.”
The man behind Tristan gave a loud snort . Tristan turned to face him. “Are you still here? Don’t you have someone better to bother?”
“Oh, brother, who could be better to bother than you?” came the reply . “I’ve never seen you at such a loss for words. I swear you could take on every Whig in Parliament with more grace and wit than you presently show. Are you ever going to introduce us? You’re normally known for your perfection of manners.”
“If I must. ” Tristan glared at the man who was grinning even more widely. “Marguerite, let me present to you Lord Peter St. Johns, my brother. Peter, this, as I am sure you have gathered is Marguerite, Lady
Peter smiled . “Trying to change the subject again. I would’ve thought you’d know all the gossip. You normally are so far ahead of it that I’ve always figured you started half of it.”
Tristan smile d in response. The door swung open and Marguerite stood before them.
“So you have decided to return home . Are you going to introduce me to our guest, my husband?”
Chapter Six
Marguerite fought the urge to turn and flee as Tristan stalked in the door. Bravery only went so far. The first spurt of words had burst out of her, leaving nothing in their wake. It had been so effortless to plan her return while safe in the carriage. Even this morning when she’d awoken to find him already gone she’d held strong with ease. It was quite another to find courage when under the glare of six-feet of hard masculinity.
Tristan stared at her . The light flowed in the door behind him and she fought to keep from squinting. He was tense, his shoulders drawn back, his neck held stiffly.
“What are you doing here?” he asked.
“I believe that since our marriage I live here.”
Silence again . She pressed her lips together. She refused to start rambling no matter how long he stared.
It was hard to see him with the sunlight filtering in . Marguerite waited another moment for him to speak and then walked down the stairs and turned into the parlor. She did not look back to see if he followed.
She sat in the same seat from which she’d confronted her mother . She drew in each breath carefully and held it. She must be calm. If she could survive this one meeting without giving in maybe she would stand a chance at some independence. She was not a puppet to be moved at will. He had wanted this marriage, pushed her to it – let him live with it.
Tristan strode into the room, a second man following behind . “You were supposed to have gone to the country. I saw you leave – yesterday. We decided it was for the best. Did you forget something? You should have just had it sent for.”
Marguerite concentrated on drawing in another breath. Why did the dratted man do this to her? She counted to five. Focused on the leaves of the palm in the corner. Released her breath. “I decided not to go.”
She looked up, trying to focus on anything but him. Was the man behind Tristan grinning? Had Tristan told this man about the baby? Marguerite wasn’t sure how to respond. Tristan still had not introduced them.
“I will be more comfortable here with you,” she said. “I do not know anyone at Glynwolde and have never been one for long rambling walks and I do not ride – not that I would in my condition. I have a strong dislike of horses and other large animals. What would be the advantage of my being there a few days earlier?”
“Well, the air . As I said, the air.” Tristan nodded his chin decisively.
“I find the air here quite satisfactory and I am sure that your cook has never served anything spoilt in all her days. And I doubt the gardens are producing much given the frost. I imagine that a hothouse cucumber is the same whether in Town or the country.”
The man behind Tristan gave a loud snort . Tristan turned to face him. “Are you still here? Don’t you have someone better to bother?”
“Oh, brother, who could be better to bother than you?” came the reply . “I’ve never seen you at such a loss for words. I swear you could take on every Whig in Parliament with more grace and wit than you presently show. Are you ever going to introduce us? You’re normally known for your perfection of manners.”
“If I must. ” Tristan glared at the man who was grinning even more widely. “Marguerite, let me present to you Lord Peter St. Johns, my brother. Peter, this, as I am sure you have gathered is Marguerite, Lady
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