melt into the floor. And Tristan was twitching and fidgeting so much, Andrew thought he was trying to invent a new dance.
He needed to help them.
“So,” Andrew spoke up, “I rode my phaeton all the way from London. It’s meant for shorter distances, but I don’t care. I’ve always been a rebel.”
No one said anything. Tristan was as twitchy as ever, and Leona’s shoulders slumped. Andrew frowned at their response, or lack thereof. The silence was maddening, but it gave Andrew a moment to evaluate the situation. He sensed the newlyweds' desire get along with one another, but they didn’t know how to begin. He also sensed a mutual respect between Leona and Tristan, something that could possibly blossom into something deeper, if given the chance. Andrew took it upon himself to light a fire under their feet.
“Soooo…” he went on, “I was wondering if we could all take a ride. My phaeton might not be fit for a prince, but it’s a swell vehicle. And the scenery around Randall Hall is lovely.”
Tristan hitched a shoulder and said, “You want to go for a ride? Well… alright.” He was careful not to show much enthusiasm, as he didn’t want to look too eager. The fact of the matter was, he’d been starving to spend more time with Leona. He wanted to get to know her, but he didn’t think she wanted to be known by him—not after their quarrel.
“My lady?” Andrew spoke again, turning his attention to his friend’s bride.
“I’d be delighted. But… I’m wondering if I can take Mary with me.”
“Mary?”
Tristan answered for her. “Leona’s maid.”
“I know there would be no issue of propriety if I am with my husband. Nevertheless, I would like to have her with me. There’s something comforting about having an even number of men and women.”
“That’s true,” Andrew agreed, though for very different reasons. He wasn’t the sort of man to object to the presence of another female. If the maid was pretty, he might end up enjoying his stay at Randall Hall more than he thought he would. When it came to sharing his bed, Andrew didn’t discriminate based on class. Any pretty face was welcome.
Twenty minutes later, when Andrew was helping the maid into the seat beside him, his hopes were dashed. By no means did Mary the maid have a pretty face. She wasn’t even what he’d call passable. She had the tiniest mouth, pencil-thin eyebrows, sleepy eyes, a cleft on her chin, freckles, and wiry hair that seemed to explode, in rigid wisps, from her tight bun.
He would have a lonely bed after all. Sighing, Andrew flicked the reins, urging his horses to a steady pace.
Tristan and Leona sat behind Andrew and Mary, as silent as ever. It was Andrew who had to break the ice yet again.
“Look at Randall Hall as we ride away. It really is an impressive place, don’t you think?”
Tristan chuckled. “You don’t expect a response out of me, I hope? I hardly think I can praise my own estate.”
“Is this your first time visiting Randall Hall, Mr. Lamb?” Leona asked.
“Goodness, no. I’ve known Tristan since I was a baby. My family’s estate isn’t too far from here… well… there’s nothing close to Randall Hall, but Newberry Park is one of the closest. My father is a viscount as well. Alas, I had the misfortune of being a third son.” He looked over at Mary and sighed. “I could have lived with being a first son, or even a second son. Believe me when I say… there is nothing more depressing than being the third son of a viscount.”
Mary’s lips tightened, and her miniscule mouth almost disappeared. When he saw the bizarre expression on her face, it was all he could do not to laugh. Without a mouth, she almost looked nonhuman. Andrew decided not to look at her again, for fear that he would laugh at her. He didn't want to hurt the maid's feelings. Andrew only liked pretty girls, but he wouldn’t intentionally insult someone who wasn’t quite so blessed.
Poor Mary was the definition of
He needed to help them.
“So,” Andrew spoke up, “I rode my phaeton all the way from London. It’s meant for shorter distances, but I don’t care. I’ve always been a rebel.”
No one said anything. Tristan was as twitchy as ever, and Leona’s shoulders slumped. Andrew frowned at their response, or lack thereof. The silence was maddening, but it gave Andrew a moment to evaluate the situation. He sensed the newlyweds' desire get along with one another, but they didn’t know how to begin. He also sensed a mutual respect between Leona and Tristan, something that could possibly blossom into something deeper, if given the chance. Andrew took it upon himself to light a fire under their feet.
“Soooo…” he went on, “I was wondering if we could all take a ride. My phaeton might not be fit for a prince, but it’s a swell vehicle. And the scenery around Randall Hall is lovely.”
Tristan hitched a shoulder and said, “You want to go for a ride? Well… alright.” He was careful not to show much enthusiasm, as he didn’t want to look too eager. The fact of the matter was, he’d been starving to spend more time with Leona. He wanted to get to know her, but he didn’t think she wanted to be known by him—not after their quarrel.
“My lady?” Andrew spoke again, turning his attention to his friend’s bride.
“I’d be delighted. But… I’m wondering if I can take Mary with me.”
“Mary?”
Tristan answered for her. “Leona’s maid.”
“I know there would be no issue of propriety if I am with my husband. Nevertheless, I would like to have her with me. There’s something comforting about having an even number of men and women.”
“That’s true,” Andrew agreed, though for very different reasons. He wasn’t the sort of man to object to the presence of another female. If the maid was pretty, he might end up enjoying his stay at Randall Hall more than he thought he would. When it came to sharing his bed, Andrew didn’t discriminate based on class. Any pretty face was welcome.
Twenty minutes later, when Andrew was helping the maid into the seat beside him, his hopes were dashed. By no means did Mary the maid have a pretty face. She wasn’t even what he’d call passable. She had the tiniest mouth, pencil-thin eyebrows, sleepy eyes, a cleft on her chin, freckles, and wiry hair that seemed to explode, in rigid wisps, from her tight bun.
He would have a lonely bed after all. Sighing, Andrew flicked the reins, urging his horses to a steady pace.
Tristan and Leona sat behind Andrew and Mary, as silent as ever. It was Andrew who had to break the ice yet again.
“Look at Randall Hall as we ride away. It really is an impressive place, don’t you think?”
Tristan chuckled. “You don’t expect a response out of me, I hope? I hardly think I can praise my own estate.”
“Is this your first time visiting Randall Hall, Mr. Lamb?” Leona asked.
“Goodness, no. I’ve known Tristan since I was a baby. My family’s estate isn’t too far from here… well… there’s nothing close to Randall Hall, but Newberry Park is one of the closest. My father is a viscount as well. Alas, I had the misfortune of being a third son.” He looked over at Mary and sighed. “I could have lived with being a first son, or even a second son. Believe me when I say… there is nothing more depressing than being the third son of a viscount.”
Mary’s lips tightened, and her miniscule mouth almost disappeared. When he saw the bizarre expression on her face, it was all he could do not to laugh. Without a mouth, she almost looked nonhuman. Andrew decided not to look at her again, for fear that he would laugh at her. He didn't want to hurt the maid's feelings. Andrew only liked pretty girls, but he wouldn’t intentionally insult someone who wasn’t quite so blessed.
Poor Mary was the definition of
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