indeed?’
Tristan’s hand tightened around his cane and his mouth became a thin white line. Was he ashamed of borrowing his cousin’s carriage? Was he worried that others would mistake him for his cousin and cause embarrassment? How awful would that be—to be mistaken for a peer when one wasn’t.
Lottie folded her hands on her lap and crossed her ankles. Considered the possibility and decided against it.
Anyone who had met the two would know they were different. Tristan could never be Lord Thorngrafton. They had similar looks, but their temperaments were not at alike.
She never would have allowed Lord Thorngrafton to take her in his arms or even escort her outside into the darkness for a breath of fresh air. The air of a snake hung about him. He had presumed much last November and acted as if she was a naive miss who had no idea of what going to see etchings entailed, as if his title and status was all the reassurance a woman needed.
Lottie concentrated on taking a deep breath, and not letting her fury at the memory overwhelm her. But he was to be family now and she needed to be charitable. She might have mistaken him, but in any case, when they next encountered each other, she would be married and related to him. Family was different.
But she could not expect Lord Thorngrafton to apologise. It was up to women to mend bridges. And at the same time she would make Tristan see that there was nothing to be ashamed about when it came to using family connections. It was positively de rigueur, according to Mama.
‘When did your cousin inherit the title?’ she asked, assuming the voice she used for the more important At Homes when she wanted to make a suitably genteel appearance. She would find a way to build the bridges without revealing her distaste for the man.
‘I doubt we will be seeing my cousin often.’ Tristan’s tone was less than encouraging. ‘The present Lord Thorngrafton inherited the title within the last year. I was travelling on the Continent at the time.’
‘But he is family.’
‘Yes, of a sort. The old lord was my uncle.’ The merest hint of a smile touched Tristan’s lips. ‘One cannot pick and choose one’s family as easily as one’s friends.’
‘That is why family is all the more important.’ Lottie batted her eyes and made her voice sugar sweet. It was obvious to her that there had been a quarrel between Tristan and his cousin. Perhaps she could do something to get them to make up. It was never good to quarrel with those who might be in a position to help you. ‘Friends may come and go, but families are always there.’
‘You are not encumbered with my relations.’ Tristan’s reply was crushing. He tilted his hat over his eyes and stretched out his legs as if to indicate the conversation had ended and the topic was no longer up for discussion.
Lottie looked out of the carriage window at the darkened countryside sweeping past and felt the prick of tears. This ride was not going as planned. He was not behaving how he ought. She swallowed her annoyance at Tristan’s obstinacy and tried again. She had to explain why this overture from his cousin had to be treated with respect and gratitude. Why it was the only way. Anything to keep her mind off the closeness of Tristan and how she wished he’d take her in his arms and tell her not to worry.
‘But he is your cousin, and titled,’ she said, trying again. This time she ran a hand down the horsehair seats. ‘It was very kind of him to lend us his carriage and driver. Most unexpected and done with such grace. Does he do this sort of thing often?’
‘Kindness had nothing to do with it.’ Tristan lifted his hat and peered at her. His dark eyes flashed with some barely suppressed emotion, but then he leant forward and touched her hand briefly. The tiniest of touches, but one that made her heart pound slightly faster. ‘Lottie, my cousin Peter has never done anything for the benefit of others. It is part of his creed.’
‘I suppose you are right. You have known him longer than I have.’ Lottie resisted the urge to put her glove to her cheek and savour the lingering imprint of his fingers. ‘He must have been pleased that you were finally going to settle down.’
‘I expect he was.’ There was a note of surprise in Tristan’s voice. ‘I had not considered it. He is probably pleased to see me gone from Shaw’s. I was not adding to his general state of well being. Destroying his ambiance, as he put it to me before we came down to dinner. I believe he rather wished I had stayed on the Continent.’
‘I am certain you are wrong.’
‘I know I am right.’
Lottie shifted, sliding slightly on the horsehair seats. He was not making this easy for her. All she wanted was some reassurance that he would make his peace with his cousin. And maybe, one day, when Tristan and she had children, his cousin would ease their way in society. Lottie drew in a breath. Children. Babies. Lying in Tristan’s arms. Suddenly the carriage appeared to shrink, to push her closer to his chest, his lips. This topic was supposed to keep her mind off such things, not bring it back to his kisses.
‘The carriage is very new,’ she said, searching for another topic, one which did not lead her thoughts on such dangerous paths. ‘He obviously thought enough of you to lend it. He trusts you.’
Tristan’s hands tightened on his cane. ‘You are very observant, but your conclusions are wrong. Neither of us trusts the other further than he can toss him. There is much that lies between my cousin and me. He wished me gone with all speed.’
‘I try to be observant.’ Lottie cleared her throat, pleased that she had found a subject they could converse on, a chance to show off her social skills without suddenly blurting out that she wanted to be kissed or held. Already, she could imagine introducing him to her friends: my husband—not only is he handsome but also a cousin to a lord. Martha, Caroline and the rest would forgive the elopement once they had met him. ‘It makes it easier when I go calling. Fifteen minutes is barely any time and the hostess is often tired of repeating the same story over and over again. It saves idle chit-chat or speaking about the weather. Some days it seems I never speak about anything but the weather. There is only so much one can say about the rain.’
‘Is there? I never participate in At Homes if at all possible.’ A shudder went through him. ‘On point of principle.’
A sudden pain coursed through Lottie as her future plans crumbled to dust. Not participate. But the After the Marriage calls were some of the most significant calls a woman could ever make. She might not be having the wedding of her dreams, but she thought she’d at least have the calls and the attention. She had dreamt of making such calls ever since she had first been allowed to participate in At Homes.
‘But you will have to.’ Lottie leant forward, placing her hands on her knees to keep them from trembling. ‘We will need to make calls when we get back to Newcastle. The After the Marriage calls are a necessity, or how else will anyone know that we will continue to see them socially? And all of my friends will be anxious to meet you. I dare say they will be quite green with envy. Pea green.’
‘We won’t be living in Newcastle.’ Tristan regarded the woman sitting opposite him. Her head was full of society and outward appearances. At Homes. Dances. Positions. Furthering her status at the expense of others. She had to be made to realise that there was more to life than such things. He wanted to glimpse again the woman who had berated him for not looking after
