Chapter Eight
Tristan leaned on the desk as he stared at the ledger book before him. Despite having slept like the dead last night, he was tired, weary down to the bone. He’d returned to England hoping to settle into a simple life, see to estate duties, maybe take a job in the War Department, enjoy long rides in the countryside, and find a pretty young country girl to marry. Instead, he’d been handed family scandal, a bankrupt estate, and a growing mystery surrounding his uncle’s estate.
It had been two days since he, Marcus, and Jenkins had traveled to Thornton to speak to the magistrate and the sheriff. The magistrate, Mr. Burton, had listened to what he and Marcus had said with great interest and had read Arabella’s testimony with great interest. He’d even question Jenkins about what he knew and his opinion of Mr. Simmons’ character. After listening to their statements, Mr. Burton had ordered the sheriff, Mr. Alerton, to arrest Mr. Simons on charges of embezzlement and assault on Miss Layden.
Mr. Simmons not only denied all the charges but demanded that Tristan and Marcus be charged with assault and kidnapping, as Tristan had knocked him out and Marcus had bound him for the trip to Thornton. But Tristan had been correct; being an earl lent credence to his claim. Mr. Burton had sent a clerk who specialized in accounting, one Mr. Beckwith, and a solicitor, Mr. Claridge, whose specialty was estate finances, to examine the Avondale’s ledgers. It had taken them less than two hours to confirm what first Arabella and then he and Marcus had thought, that Mr. Simmons had been embezzling from the estate for some time. By the end of the day they’d discovered that Mr. Simmons had stolen nearly twenty thousand pounds since coming to work for his uncle.
Twenty thousand pounds was a staggering amount, and Mr. Simmons was facing transportation at a minimum. Tristan wanted to know where the funds had gone and if they could be recovered, and both Mr. Burton and Mr. Alerton promised to try to gain answers from the oily little man.
The only bright spot had been Miss Layden, Arabella, as he’d come to think of her. Yesterday, she’d accompanied him into the village of Wilton and introduced him to Reverend Clarkson, the local pastor, and all the shopkeepers. Tristan had thanked Reverend Clarkson, a man only a few years older than Tristan, for seeing to his uncle in his final days. Arabella had also accompanied Tristan to his uncle’s grave to pay his respects. Tristan had become rather choked up at the sight of his uncle’s grave, as the sight of it made his death a reality. Marcus had finally had to lead Tristan from the graveside as he’d been unable to move.
After visiting the village, Arabella had taken Tristan and Marcus to visit several of the tenant farmers, so he could introduce himself. The farmers and their wives had all been happy to meet him, happy to have a Sizemore back in the manor again. None of the farmers had been happy to be under the thumb of Mr. Simmons, as apparently, he was a tight-fist and kept increasing their rents.
On the ride home, they had stopped at Marcus’ cottage, which was as Arabella said, was much grander than a simple cottage or hunting lodge. The two-story field stone building consisted of five second-story bedrooms, three servants’ rooms, in the attic, a sitting room, a small formal parlor, a small library, and a surprisingly large dining room. The rear kitchen had a new double sink with a brass hand pump and a large cast-iron stove. Off the back of the kitchen was a brand new conservatory with a flagstone floor and flagstone benches along the walls. Marcus had been overwhelmed by it all and had to sit down as his knees had gone weak when he came to grips with all that he owned.
Tristan was happy for Marcus; his friend deserved to be rewarded after everything he’d done for England and his family. Marcus had joined the army at sixteen to help reduce the burden on his family and had sent most of his salary home every month. Marcus had been wounded three times in battle, two of the wounds nearly costing his life. He’d also been more than a friend to Tristan; he’d been a brother and a confidant.
With a sigh, Tristan forced himself to concentrate on the balance sheet before him. He’d spent the last hour going over the account books he’d brought from London and writing down figures. By his calculations, if he sold all the contents of the London house, as well as the house, he’d have enough money to pay the majority of the outstanding debts. His mother could go live with one of his sisters or live on the street for all he cared. Tristan had examined the lease for the house in Bath, which ended in six months’ time. At that time, he could sell the house; it was in a fashionable section of town, according to what he’d learned, and would fetch a good price. With the sale of the house in Bath, he’d have money to cover the remainder of the debts that had been incurred. Things would be tight for at least a year, but he could save Avondale.
Tristan just had to come up with enough coin to buy him time till he could sell the house in Bath. He could sell his uncle’s clothes and his cousins as he’d done with his father’s clothes and belongings. He could also sell his father’s carriage and use his uncle’s carriage, and he could fetch a good price if he sold his father’s carriage horses.
“Why such a glum face? It’s only just a bit past ten in the morning?” Tristan looked up to see Marcus leaning against the door frame. He was wearing another of Allister’s shirts and waist coats and looked very rakish with his highly polished boots.
“Just going over the accounts from the London House, if Miss Layden does not agree to wed me, there will be just enough funds to cover all the debts. We shall have to sell the London townhouse and all its contents, as well as the carriage and all my uncles’ and cousins’ clothing.” Tristan looked up from the sheet before him. “In six months, the lease on the house in Bath will be up, and I can sell it as well. By then, the harvests from Avondale will be sold, and if the stars align and it’s a good harvest, we should have just enough to pay off all the debts and the interest accrued. We shall have to tighten our belts and buy nothing for at least a year, but we should be able to cover everything as long as no more debts come in.”
“Ah, that accounts for the gloomy countenance,” Marcus said, dropping into one of the empty chairs before the desk and stretching out his long legs to cross his ankles. “As for Miss Layden, I’d have no worries on that account. I’ve seen how she looks at you, she is smitten.”
Before Tristan could reply he heard voices and Miss Layden stepped into the room, followed by Mrs. Jenkins who was pushing a tea trolley groaning under a pot of tea, three tea cups, china plates and two large cakes as well as pot of jam.
“Gentlemen, Miss Layden just arrived, and I thought perhaps you’d all like a spot of tea. I made fresh cake this morning, two new recipes; one is a lemon cake and the other a pound cake. And I have biscuits if you prefer,” Mrs. Jenkins said, pushing the trolley to a stop before Marcus, who had sat up and was eyeing the trolley with interest.
“Miss Layden, you look lovely as always, and thank you, Mrs. Jenkins; everything looks delicious,” Tristan said, rising from the desk as the ladies entered the room.
“Aye, thank you, ma’am, I must confess I was a bit peckish,” Marcus said with a smile that made Mrs. Jenkins laugh and swat his arm good-naturedly. Marcus had finished off half a loaf of bread, half a dozen eggs, and a ration of bacon that morning.
“Oh, go on with you, Mr. Marcus, but it’s nice to feed a man again,” Mrs. Jenkins said then with a smile and a nod, walked from the room.
“Miss Layden please have a seat and join us. I hope you aren’t having second thoughts about our picnic this afternoon. Mrs. Jenkins had agreed to watch Mrs. Riley’s children.” Tristan said, coming around the desk to greet Arabella, as Marcus.
Marcus rose and motioned for Miss Layden to take his seat, with a nod, Arabella took the offered chair.
“Could I impose upon you to serve?” Tristan asked as Marcus moved into the other empty chair and Tristan returned to his desk chair.
“Oh, no, not at all, Liza and I are looking forward to the picnic, it’s just I have a problem. And you have been so kind and honest with me since you arrived; I felt I should confide in you.” Arabella looked down at her hands nervously.
“Of course, whatever you tell me, tell us we shall keep in strict confidence,” Tristan said, giving Arabella a reassuring smile.
“There is a man, Mr. Mortimer Lester; he is a distant cousin to your Aunt Amelia and son to Mrs. Katherine Lester, a first or second cousin to your aunt. I could never remember which.” Arabella replied. With a slightly unsteady hand, she poured a cup of tea for Marcus, added two lumps of sugar, and then turned to hand him the cup. “Anyway, since before your uncle’s death, he has been bothering Mrs. Riley and I.”
Marcus nodded his thanks and set the cup on the desk before him, and exchanged a look with Tristan, neither man condoned men hurting or bothering women, Marcus especially thought such men were nothing but curs and villains.
“Please, go on, how has he been bothering you?” Tristan asked as he saw Arabella was fidgeting with the teapot.
“In the months before your uncle’s death, he became weaker and weaker and rarely left the library or this office. During that time, Mr. Lester would visit regularly, every few days in fact. He would try to catch me alone, and when he did, he would try to press himself against me, or he would try to catch me in the corridor. He would also make insinuations that I was more to your uncle than just a helper and secretary.” Arabella shivered at the memory. She heard Marcus mumble something that she was sure was a curse, and Tristan’s hands tightened into fists where they rested on the desk. Arabella poured Tristan a cup of tea and dropped in a single lump of sugar before leaning forward and setting it on the desk, and pushed it towards him.
“Thank you Miss Layden please continue, towards the end he began pressuring me for details of your uncles will, asking if I was included in it and what I had been left. The day of your uncle’s funeral, the moment it was over Mr. Lester declared himself your uncle’s heir and stated that he and his mother would be moving into Avondale.” Arabella stated, then turned to pour herself a cup of tea to which she added a splash of milk and two lumps of sugar.
“Why that black guard. What happened? Obviously someone informed him of the truth.” Tristan asked. Outraged at what he’d heard and vowing to punch this Mr. Lester in the nose if he ever saw him.
“Reverend Clarkson and your uncle’s solicitor, Mr. Solomon, were both there; they told Mr. Lester that he was not the owner of Avondale. That Sir Howard had left the property to his nephew Tristan Sizemore, and that a message would be sent to you informing you of your uncle’s death. Mr. Lester was furious and raged that the house and lands should be his; he hired a solicitor to fight the will; but it came to naught.” Arabella took a sip of her tea, letting the warm liquid soothe her nerves.
“And what made this jack a nape think that he had any chance of inheriting the property?” Tristan asked, in annoyance.
“His mother, Mrs. Lester, claims that Avondale should have been left to her and not your Aunt Amelia. I don’t know all the details, only that she has loudly complained for decades that Avondale should have been hers.” Arabella took another sip of tea as her nerves eased. “She and Mortimer would often come for tea and then stay a week or more. I remember hearing your aunt tell my mother that she hated her cousin because she would often make comments that Uncle Howard and Avondale both should have been her’s. Just before her death, your Aunt told Jenkins that if her cousin knocked, they were not at home.”
“That is very interesting indeed, but I sense there is more you would say about Mr. Lester?” Tristan prompted.
“Indeed, there is. Last night, after Patrick dropped Elizabeth, the children, and I off at my gate, we discovered that Mr. Lester was there, waiting in the garden.” Arabella shivered at the memory of Mr. Lester appearing out of the shadows of the garden like a specter.
Tristan muffled a curse; the man was a cur and more. He looked over at Marcus, who was glowering.
“What did he do, miss?” Marcus asked
“As soon as Patrick drove away, he appeared. He had been hiding in the shadows of the garden, and as I was unlocking the door, he approached us. He said that he had a new solicitor and that soon Avondale would be his. He stepped closer to us and said that as I seemed to be part of Avondale, I would also have to be his.” Arabella put down her cup of tea as her hands had begun to shake.
“The cur,” Tristan snarled. “Forgive me, Miss Layden. Please continue.
“I concur; I told him I’d never marry him. He laughed and said soon I would have no choice but to marry him. He went on to say that after we marry, Rose Cottage would be his. He then turned to Liza, he told her that once he owned Rose cottage, she would have to move out unless she was nice to him, very, very nice.” Arabella shivered again. “He then stepped closer to us, and that is when young Brian, apparently sensing our distress, kicked him sharply in the shins. While Mr. Lester was distracted, I grabbed the broom I kept by the path and struck Mr. Lester with it. Mr. Lester then ran off shouting, he’d be back, at which point we fled inside the cottage and bolted the door behind us. Liza and the children spent the night in my room. This morning, as soon as the children were dressed and fed, we came here.”
Tristan was torn between wanting to rip the throat out of this faceless man and wishing to comfort Arabella. Tristan rose and walked about the desk; he stopped beside Arabella and placed a comforting hand on her right shoulder, wishing he could do more to comfort her.
“Miss Layden, I promise that I’ll not let Mr. Lester harm you or force you to do anything you do not wish to do,” Tristan said, and Arabella reached up to place her hand over Tristan’s.
“Did I hear right, Miss, that this weasel planned to force you to be his wife and Mrs. Riley to be his mistress at the same time?” Marcus rumbled in obvious anger.
“Oh yes,” Arabella replied, putting her hand back in her lap. A moment later, Tristan removed his hand from her shoulder, and Arabella almost sighed aloud in disappointment. “He said that we were the two prettiest women in the county and that we should be his, as he was the rightful Lord of Avondale. Last night after he left, Liza said I should marry you, so that I, so that we would be safe.”
Tristan shook his. “No, Miss Layden, that is out of the question. I will not have you wed me out of fear or because I am the lesser of two evils. If you decide to honor me with your hand, it will be because you desire to and not because you are frightened into it.” Tristan stated. “Marcus and I will deal with this animal.”
“Aye, miss, do not be frightened, the Captain and I will sort this sorry excuse for a man out,” Marcus said.
“Thank you, Sir Tristan, Mr. Marcus, your reassurances and kindness have taken a great weight off my mind. The odd thing is that I don’t believe Mr. Lester knows you have returned and taken up residence.” Arabella replied.
“Which will be to our advantage, do you still feel like going on the picnic today?” Tristan asked, hoping that Arabella hadn’t been so scared that she’d changed his mind for their outing that afternoon.
“Oh yes, Liza, the children and I are looking forward to it,” Arabella exclaimed.
“Then we shall go. If you will let me make a suggestion, you, Mrs. Riley, and her children should come and stay at Avondale until Marcus and I have dealt with this swine. Mrs. Jenkins should be a suitable chaperone,” Tristan proposed. “If that is not to your liking, then let me have my coachman, Jeremy, and one of the house maids stay with you to ensure your safety.”
Arabella didn’t know what to say, so she nodded. “I will speak to Liza, but I thank you for the offer.”
“Excellent, now let us enjoy the cake Mrs. Jenkins made for us, and then perhaps you will accompany me for a walk about the garden. It is rather lovely, but I was thinking of adding to the herb and vegetable area of the garden. While I was in India and Malta, I became interested in various local herbs and vegetables that are not usually grown in England. I brought some seeds home with me and am hoping to be able to grow them here.” Tristan said, and then turned to the tea trolley to cut off slices of each of the cakes, slip them on a plate and then hold the plate out to Marcus.
Marcus took the plate with a nod, and then Tristan motioned to the cake and then back to Arabella, who shook her head. Tristan cut himself off a generous piece of pound cake and then returned to his seat.
Arabella smiled at Tristan’s request to help him plan out a new area of the garden. It meant that not only did he share her interest in gardening and plants, but that he valued her opinion. It was another good sign that if she wed him, it would be a marriage of partners and not one where she would be subservient to him.
“Oh, yes, I would greatly enjoy that,” Arabella replied.
“Good, good, I have never grown anything in my life, and will have to depend on you and Mr. Hardwig, the gardener, to help me, but I would like to learn how to grow them,” Tristan replied.
Arabella was about to reply when they heard a loud knocking on the front door. Tristan exchanged a questioning look with Marcus when the knock came again, harder and more insistent this time. A moment later, they saw Mr. Jenkins hurry past the open office door, and then heard him open the door. There was the muffled sound of voices and then the sound of the front door closing. About a minute later, Jenkins appeared in the open door, looking decidedly annoyed.
“I am sorry to disturb you, sir, but the Belmonts are here to see you. I tried to tell them that you were not receiving visitors, at this time, but Baron Belmont insisted.” Jenkins said. Then he was pushed aside, and a tall thin woman with a long narrow face sailed into Tristan’s office, she was followed by a middle aged slightly portly man of average height with dark hair and the beginning of jowls, a younger man whom by the look was his son and the thin annoying young woman Tristan had meant on his first day in Wilton.
“Well, announce us, you old fool,” The older woman sputtered.
Tristan and Marcus both rose to their feet, Tristan instantly enraged by the rudeness of these, people not only barging into his house but also by this unknown woman insulting Jenkins for doing his job.
“Lord Tristan Sizemore, Earl of Rawlings, Mr. Marcus Berkley, and Miss Arabella Layden,” Jenkins said, stepping around the intruders and into the office. “Allow me to introduce Sir Ambrose Belmont, Baron of Belmont, his wife, Mrs. Primrose Belmont, and their daughter Miss Lucinda Belmont.”
Tristan was both annoyed by the unwanted interruption and ashamed by the fact that he was wearing his brother’s clothes, while these people were obviously dressed in their finest. Then Tristan remembered he was no longer the unwanted son; he was an earl, and this was his house.
“May I help you?” Tristan asked as he and Marcus exchanged looks of annoyance.
“Why, see I told you he was at home, and we are just in time for tea,” Mrs. Belmont said, looking at Jenkins, “And why did you bring us in here, move the tea trolley to the parlor, and bring us extra cups and plates?”
“Excuse me, but I did not invite you into my home, nor did I invite you to stay for tea. I was conducting business with Mr. Berkley and Miss Layden. Now, how may I help you?” Tristan said evenly and watched the face of Mrs. Belmont turn puce. Obviously, the woman wasn’t used to people standing up to her.
“But, she is here,” Lucinda pointed at Arabella, the expression on her face looking like she smelled something unpleasant.
“Miss Layden had served as my Uncle’s secretary for years and is assisting me in taking over the estate while briefing me on the estate accounts. Now I do not mean to be rude, but I’m very busy,” Tristan stated, folding his arms across his chest as he glared angrily at his unwanted guests.
“Forgive us, my lord, but my wife and daughter insisted that we come for a visit and introduce ourselves. Lucinda said she had happened upon you on the road the other day, and as you did not visit us, my wife said we should come to you.” Sir Belmont stated, fidgeting with the brim of his fashionable hat.
“I see, well, how might I help you?” Tristan asked.
“Really, you aren’t going to invite us to tea?” Mrs. Belmont sniffed loudly, her beady eyes focusing on the laden tea trolley.
“As Lord Sizemore said, we were conducting business. Now, how can we help you?” Marcus stated glaring at the plum fop before him.
“Forgive my wife, it’s just that we wanted to invite you to a small welcome to the area dinner party this Friday,” Mr. Belmont said.
Tristan’s first thought was to say no, but if he was to live in Avondale, it would do no good to anger his neighbors. “Thank you for the offer, but I could only attend if Mr. Berkley, Miss Layden, and her companion Mrs. Riley were also invited. Mr. Berkley is not only my friend but my business partner, and Miss Layden is practically a member of the family.”
Tristan could see that this request did not please either Mrs. Belmont or Miss Belmont whom were exchanging looks that were so cold they could freeze a man in place.
“Oh, no, my lord, it’s just that would throw off the number of our table,” Mrs. Belmont protested.
“Then I must decline your offer. Mr. Berkley and I have been together for nearly sixteen years, and I value his friendship and counsel, and as I said, Miss Layden is practically a member of the family.” Tristan replied with a shrug.
“That would be fine, my lord; we would be happy to extend them all an invitation.” Sir Belmont replied. “If you will excuse us, we shall take our leave.”
“What, no tea?” Dudley Belmont protested as his father ushered them all towards the door.
As soon as they left, Tristan and Marcus resumed their seats and the enjoyment of their cake and tea.
“That was kind of you, Sir Tristan, but Liza and I could not possibly join you at the Belmonts,” Arabella had been both delighted and terrified at the idea of having dinner with the pompous Belmonts.
“But why not? Marcus and I will need help with dealing with them, neither of us know anything about proper etiquette and I think we can both use a shield against Miss Lucinda” Tristan replied.
“It’s just neither Liza nor I have anything to wear to a dinner party,” Arabella protested.
“Ah, well, neither do Marcus and I, we are both wearing my brother’s old clothes. I happen to know that all of Aunt Amelia’s clothing is upstairs in her chamber, and that there are an additional eight trunks of her gowns in the attic. Marcus and I will have to go through Uncle Howard’s closest for something suitable to wear; if we can wear Uncle Howard’s clothing, I dare say that you and Mrs. Riley could wear Aunt Amelia’s gowns.” Tristan said offering a smile. “I remember Uncle Howard joking about the fact that Aunt Amelia was always buying new gowns. That is, if the idea is not repugnant to you, Aunt Amelia was always a kind and generous soul, I’m sure she’d prefer they went to good homes than moldering away in trunks.”
Arabella’s eyes widened in surprise, and her frown turned into a smile, and she nodded. She was wearing her mother’s old gowns as she had refused to take charity from Sir Henry, and her small income always went to food, taxes, or clothing for the children. She also remembered that Amelia was always dressed in the finest of gowns, that her mother had often been envious of her friend’s clothing and that she often wore a gown only once.
“Oh, yes, that is a fine idea,” Arabella replied. She was looking forward to the chance to wear something new.
“Excellent, we will finish our cake, take a walk about the garden, and then we shall go through the closets upstairs and see what we can find. It shall be a treasure hunt of a fashion?” Tristan said.
“Yes, that sounds wonderful. Liza shall be so happy.” Arabella’s uneasy stomach settled, and she reached to cut a piece of lemon cake for herself. Her day was definitely looking up after a night of fear.
* * * *
Arabella leaned forward on her knees, watching Tristan bend over to gently throw a rubber ball to Brian, who missed the ball and, with a laugh, turned to run after it through the tall flowers of the meadow. Beside her, Elizabeth was watching as Marcus sat cross-legged with little Megan in his lap. Marcus was trying to teach the three-year-old how to make flower chains, with more patience than Arabella could have imagined for such a large man.
“He is a very kind and handsome man. Isn’t he?” Liza said, abruptly breaking the quiet.
“Why yes, he is,” Arabella replied, her gaze focused on Tristan. But then she realized that Elizabeth was talking about Marcus, not Tristan. “They both are, I can’t remember a better afternoon, can you?”
True to his word, after their tea, Tristan had led Arabella into the garden, and they had spent a good thirty minutes walking about the garden, discussing the best place for a new vegetable patch and a new herb garden. After discussing what the plants Tristan wanted to plant were, Arabella suggested that they would do better in a conservatory. Tristan had quickly agreed and said that it would be pleasant to have fresh food even in the winter.
Tristan and Arabella had found Mr. Hardwig, the gardener, trimming some overgrown roses, and asked him to look into how much it would cost to put in a good side conservatory. The old gardener had been delighted at the idea and promised to look into it.
After their tour of the garden, they had then joined Marcus and Elizabeth in Aunt Amelia’s bed chamber, and while Arabella and Elizabeth had begun going through the large walk-in closet looking for gowns to wear to the Belmonts’ dinner, Tristan and marcus had gone to the attic and, with two footmen’s help, carried down all of Amelia’s trunks. In addition to the trunks of Amelia’s clothing, they discovered trunks of his cousin’s clothing and trunks filled with toys. Tristan had given the trunks of clothing and toys to Elizabeth, who wept in joy. Elizabeth had been planning to use the inheritance Sir Howard had left her to treat her children; now she could save the money for something else.
At one, Patrick had hooked up Sir Howard’s large, yellow patent Landau and helped Tristan and Marcus load the large picnic basket and two thick blankets into it. Marcus had taken the reins, while Tristan helped Elizabeth, Arabella and the children into the landau. Marcus had then driven them to a large flower-filled meadow about a mile from Avondale and helped Tristan set up the picnic.
They had enjoyed a tasty meal of baked chicken, chilled potato salad, bread, cheese rolls, biscuits, apple cider, and dandelion wine. While they ate, Tristan and Marcus had amused the ladies and the children with amusing stories of their time in India. Once the meal was over, Tristan and Marcus had offered to take the children for a few minutes so that Arabella and Elizabeth could relax.
“No, it has been delightful, Sir Tristan is wonderfully kind. Have you been thinking about what I said?” Liza asked, watching in amusement as little Megan took the flower chain Marcus had made and placed it on his head. Marcus laughed as the little blonde-haired girl patted Marcus on the cheek, gave him a kiss, and then curled up in his lap like a kitten.
“Oh, my has she ever done that before?” Arabella asked, trying not to laugh.
“No, no, never, perhaps I should go save him,” Liza ventured.
“Let’s see what he does,” Arabella suggested. She’d noticed that her friend couldn’t keep her eyes off the tall blonde man, and she’d been talking about him every day. Liza was always asking questions about what he did or said. Arabella knew Liza’s husband had abused her, and because of the abuse, she was cautious of men, rarely going to town alone or interacting with any of the local farmers. The fact that Liza was obviously enamored of Marcus was a hopeful sign that her friend could find happiness one day.
The women watched as Marcus looked down at his lap and then motioned for Tristan to come over. Tristan looked up from where he was playing with Brian and saw Marcus waving him over. Tristan handed the rubber ball to young Brian, then took the boy’s small hand and led him over to Marcus and his sister.
“Mr. Marcus is very good with the children, and he looks like the children. You know, if you were to marry him, people would think that the children were his. And he has a lovely house.” Arabella suggested, and saw Liza turn bright red.
“Oh no, what are you thinking. You are the one who shall be marrying; I never want a husband again.” Liza protested.
Arabella had a feeling her friend was protesting too much, for all the while her eyes were focused on Marcus. Arabella turned to see that Tristan had knelt to gently lift the sleeping Megan from his friend’s lap, allowing Marcus to rise to his feet. Once he was standing, Marcus held out his arms and Tristan laid the sleeping Megan in his arms. The men turned and walked back to the women, as they walked, Tristan scooped Brian up into his arms and threw him in the air, making the little boy laugh and squeal in delight.
Marcus and Tristan stepped up to Arabella and Liza, the men’s hair was mussed, their shirtsleeves were rolled up revealing well-muscled arms, and their shirts were unbuttoned at the neck revealing tanned muscular skin. Arabella felt her heart skip a beat as the sight of so much tanned muscular skin. Besides her Liza let out a soft gasp revealing the fact she was also stirred by the sight of so much male perfection.
Marcus knelt to lay the sleeping Megan on the blanket beside her mother, then he grabbed his discarded waist coast and used it as a blanket to cover the sleeping child.
“Would you like to take a walk to the stream with me Mrs. Riley? I promised young master Brian that we could look for frogs and minnows.” Marcus held his hand down to Elizabeth who looked torn with indecision.
“Go on Liza, Sir Tristan and I can watch Megan,” Arabella prompted seeing her friend’s hesitation.
With a nod Elizabeth took Marcus’ hand letting him help her to her feet. Then Marcus turned to sweep Brian up and place him on his shoulder making the little boy laugh then grab onto Marcus’ long blonde hair.
“He is very good with the children and so are you,” Arabella observed as Tristan sat beside her.
“Marcus is the middle child of nine. He left to join the army at sixteen to help his family.” Tristan replied. “He would tell me stories about his younger brother and sisters, and what they would get up to while we were on patrol.”
“That explains why he is so good with children, but what about you Sir Tristan? You are very good with Brian.” Arabella asked, as Tristan eased to the blanket beside her.
Tristan stretched his long legs out before him then turned to admire how pretty Arabella was. She was wearing a large straw hat trimmed with little pink flowers made of straw and it framed her face to perfection.
“I was older than my cousins by several years. But I looked forward to my summers here and my time with them. As I said we would run through the forest by Avondale and sail boats in the stream. I can still remember their laughter as we splashed water on each other or raced through the meadow chasing butterflies. I hope to have children one day. When I was in India the nights would be sweltering hot, too hot to sleep as I lay awake I’d imagine what my life would be like once I returned home. I dreamed of a quiet life, a home in the country with a pretty wife and children. I could see myself doing all the things my father never did with them, like making boats or flying kites. Foolish I suppose, but those dreams kept me going through some dark times.”
“Oh, no not foolish at all.” Arabella could imagine Tristan sitting before a roaring fire with a little red haired girl on his knee and two sons with dark hair leaning over him as he read a story out loud. The thought was oddly appealing, especially after years of loneliness. She could imagine sitting beside him, working on her stitching while he told her about his day, or asking how her day went. Arabella could also see him, sleeves rolled up working beside her in the garden. “It is a lovely dream.” Arabella replied.
“Perhaps you could call me just Tristan. I’m not used to being called lord or sir all the time. I was simply lieutenant Sizemore for years and then I was promoted to Captain, only a few months before I had to leave the service.” Tristan suggested and saw Arabella smile.
“In private I would like that, but in public I don’t know it would be most improper.” Arabella replied.
Tristan nodded in resignation, knowing Arabella was correct, society would not understand.
“Would you go on a ride with me tomorrow? Marcus said is what courting couples do. We could take the landau into Thornton and see the sites. Jenkins said there is a ruined abbey we could see, and then we could stop for lunch.”
“Oh yes, that sounds lovely. I saw it once as a girl and always wanted to go back.” Arabella leaned closer to Tristan, and he caught the soft, alluring scent of roses, and Tristan felt an overwhelming urge to kiss her.
“We should head back now,” Tristan said, standing so he wouldn’t give in to the urge.
“Is something wrong?” Arabella asked, looking up at Tristan.
“Ah, no, but if we stay much longer, I shall likely kiss you, and while we are courting, it has only been a few days since we met, Tristan replied.
Arabella gasped softly the rose to stand before Tristan, looking up at his handsome face and wind tasseled hair. He has so handsome and so very, very kind how could she not be attracted to him. She put her hands on his chest then rose on tip toe to brush her lips against his.
“I won’t apologize for kissing you, even though I know it was unladylike,” Arabella paused to give Tristan a timid smile. “Thank you for today; I had a wonderful time.
“No, no, I’m glad you did. Let’s pack up and then head back. Will you join me for dinner tonight?” Tristan asked and saw Arabella nod.
“I’d like that very much,” Arabella replied and knelt to help Tristan pack up the hamper. As they packed, she’d cast side-long glances at Tristan, glad she’d agreed to let him court her.