“Lester,” muttered Alex just before taking his last sip of tea to finish off his meal. “I’d heard that weasel was coming to town. Didn’t think it’d be so soon.”
“Good day, gentlemen,” Lester approached with a wolfish shine to his grin. “And Lady Iris. I didn’t expect to see you here.” Proceeding to join them, he grabbed a chair for himself and took a seat. “You left London in a hurry, Lady Iris, but I do believe fate might have brought us together again.”
“You believe fate brought you my betrothed, Lord Lester?”
Alex coughed. Several times. Tristan would have glared at him, but he was too busy narrowing his eyes at Lester.
It was more than a role. It was every fibre in his being that took over. To see such discomfort in Iris, almost fear, he would do anything to protect her.
Not quite imperceptibly, Lester leaned back in his chair, and then in contradiction he quite perceptibly snorted. “Your betrothed? Wasn’t she Damien’s?”
She was never Damien’s, Tristan wanted to shout. But of course he didn’t. To the known world (that being, London) shehadbeen Damien’s when she should have been his.
Much as that infuriated him, he took a breath and relaxed his shoulders, answering in the cavalier way that was expected of him. “It’s not uncommon for a lady to receive multiple proposals in one season. Far stranger things have happened.” He was saying some of this out of his ass, knowing that Iris’s situation was in fact among the most bizarre.
“Betrothed,” Elspeth, the tea shop owner, interrupted, “who’s betrothed?”
“Iris and I are engaged to be married,” Tristan announced, picking up Iris’s hand in his own.
“Nah, I don’t think so,” Elspeth countered. “She was in here with that other duke, the one with the dark blond hair. The rakish one.”
“You’re mistaken. They’re just good friends, Elspeth.”
“Then why’d he kiss her?” Too many years speaking only among friends gave her confidence to say whatever was on her mind.
Unsure of how to respond, Tristan steeled his face while his grip tightened on Iris’s fingers.
“It was a brotherly kiss on the cheek, Elspeth. Really,” Iris admonished her in a teasing tone. “Don’t be jealous.”
Elspeth fiddled with the apron strings hanging at her sides and then asked, “Well then, where’s your ring?”
Damn. He hadn’t had time to consider that significant detail.
“It was being resized at Mr. Duke’s, and was sadly lost in the fire.”
The grunt from Elspeth was neither in full acquiescence nor was it entirely skeptical, but it would have to do. This was just their first encounter with a skeptic. Together they’d come up with a better plan for their next appearance.
“I must be going now.” Iris announced. “I promised Mirabelle that I’d help her with her project to paint the house.”
The gentlemen stood as she left, all watching her make her exit. Just as she walked out the door, Lester turned to Tristan.
Tristan knew that whatever was about to emerge from his mouth wasn’t going to be good, so he braced himself for the worst. He wasn’t the kind of man given to angry outbursts or altercations. No. He had a jovial demeanor, the kind that made friends wherever he went. But even he had his limits. So when Lester said what he did, Tristan didn’t have to think twice about his response.
“Looks as though not even a scandal can hold her down. Let me know when you’re done with her, so I can take a tu—”
WHACK! That was the punch
THUNK! That was the bastard dropping to the ground.
Kicking at the shoe, Alex remarked dryly, “I suppose that’s anoon the investor front.”
“One project with Lester is one too many,” Tristan said in reference to the current business endeavor he had with the man. He was still trying to get out of that. In due time.
Elspeth came marching around to their table, gesturing to the commotion. “Take that nonsense elsewhere, will ya? This ain’t a tavern.”
Nonsense. Tristan could think of several other words he would have applied to Lester, butnonsensedid not make the list.
Chapter 4