Tristan could hear the smirk hidden by the mask. He shook his head to clear it, but Brandon had managed to push him back and reset his stance.
“Do I need to inquire about the Duchess?” Brandon asked, his tone slightly mocking. The lilt often amused Tristan before, but today, it felt like a grain of sand poking at his eye. “Is she still wearing her gloomy dresses with the high collars? Those shabby grays make her look like a sketch, not even a painting. I say you look like you have married a nun. I am surprised a rake like you can survive in such a pious household.”
Tristan tried to hold on to his temper, but it was fraying like a chewed-on rope. He lowered his foil, letting the tip rest on the scratched floor. He pulled off his mask, done with what they were doing. It was going nowhere. The cool air greeted his damp face, and he felt absolutely better, though still flushed. It wasnot just from the exercise and the task, but also from the vividly intrusive memory of the previous night. Of finally being able to feast on his wife. When alone with him, she was no longer the nun Brandon referred to, but a woman of hidden fire and bottomless depths.
“No, you are wrong about her. She is... different, Brandon. She is different from what I thought she would be as a wife. It seems she has changed.”
Or did she really change? He had seen some of her fire even before he broke off his engagement with Miss Longrove. The fire she had awakened in him had made him realize the terrible mistake he had been about to make.
“Different? Changed?” Brandon flipped his foil and caught the hilt with his gloved hand. He was certainly showing off now.
His friend looked around the club, as if to survey if anyone was watching them. Then, he leaned forward.
“What happened? Did she finally find everything to her liking? Are the ledgers balanced? Does she now have a personality beyond being sour?”
“Stop that,” Tristan snapped, holding on to his temper. However, he dropped his tone ominously as he wiped sweat from his forehead. “She is attentive. And I will have you know that she has also rid herself of her blacks and grays in favor of bright colors.” Brandon raised his eyebrow. “These days, when she looks at me, it seems that she no longer sees the enemy. She is no longer seeing the Duke, but a man she likes. I do not know why. It is not a choice, but I feel a desire for her. It is almost like a physical pull I cannot help.”
Brandon threw his head back and laughed. He was so loud that two lords nearby paused their match.
“Pardon me, Tristan. But Miss Priggish? How? Does she even have a heart?” Brandon asked, shaking his head in wonder.
Tristan did not like his friend’s tone, and Brandon was not even finished. “That is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard! Did you blow hot air on her? Is that why she is melting?”
Irritation flared within Tristan. He was aware that Brandon had a mouth on him, having been friends since they were boys, but it was the first time his friend had really provoked his anger. Something protective flared from within. He had not felt anything quite as aggressive as this feeling. It was a primal, protective feeling.
“Cathy does not deserve ridicule,” Tristan snapped. He gripped his foil tightly, swinging as if he meant to slash Brandon before putting it away. “She does not deserve to be scorned by people who do not bother to look beyond her father’s reputation and her clothes.”
Brandon’s smirk vanished. He straightened himself, his eyes narrowing behind the mask. He pulled it off and said, “Easy, Tristan. It is a jest between friends. With whom else can you be your true self but with me? But what made you act so chivalrously? Is it really a desire for your wife, or pity?”
“No. I find these jests to be cruel and unfair,” Tristan retorted, no longer willing to play at such sport. He swung his foil haphazardly, as if he were ready to slash his friend with it. “She works hard to do everything for her family. She manages her father’s ledgers until he can return.”
“Her father may not come back from his so-called exile, Tristan. He all but abandoned his daughters.”
“You do not know that. What I am certain of is that she is carrying quite a burden on her shoulders. She is loyal to a family that has not helped her standing in society, and that is remarkable.”
Brandon stepped back, looking alarmed.
“Good God,” Brandon exclaimed, wiping his sweat with his sleeve. “Did you develop feelings for your wife? London’s libertine is finally brought to his knees by a high-collared woman with a sharp tongue. That is quite something, I must say.”
“I have not developed feelings for her,” Tristan replied quickly. Too quickly perhaps. “I simply do not like anyone being mocked unfairly. She is my wife, Brandon. Because her dignity is my own, you cannot act as my friend one minute, and her tormentor the next.”
“Still, I would be careful if I were you,” Brandon said. His face lost all the mean-spirited humor from earlier. His tone had gone cold and weary. “Do not ever let your guard down around that woman, Tristan. Women cannot be trusted. Not one of them. Not even those who look perfectly honest,especiallynot those. They all have secrets and ulterior motives.”
“I find that quite cynical, even for you,” Tristan commented, peering at his friend closely. There was a hint of bitterness that had not been there before. “How can you claim to hate the marriage mart and women?”
“I am merely speaking the truth of the world,” Brandon replied, evading Tristan’s questioning gaze. “Women always have personal interests that they prioritize over their spouses orlovers. Everything they do is calculated. Their wardrobe is part of their plans. Your wife’s change of heart, if you can truly call it that, is tactical, Tristan. She is a clever woman, I will give her that. She knows precisely what she is doing. As I have already told you, it would not surprise me if she had schemed this whole marriage from the start.”
Something was fundamentally off with Brandon. His eyes were too bright, and his movements were jerky. He would also be more likely to promote the fun of the chase, but somehow, he sounded like he had been burned. For all Tristan knew, his friend was as much of a libertine as he was.
“Is everything all right, Brandon?” Tristan asked. “You sound as if you are speaking from experience. Not only that, but it also seems like you have been wounded as of late. Did something happen that I do not know of?”
Brandon froze. He made a dismissive wave with his hand, averting his eyes. “I am perfectly fine. It is you I am worried about. I do not like it when people try to make a fool of you.”
“Fool me?” Tristan asked incredulously. “You think Cathy would fool me?”
“Well, do not forget women like leverage even when it comes to marriages, especially one like yours. Your marriage began with a scandal. She did not even want to marry you until she realized there was no way out. Her sisters would have been compromised. I would advise you to keep your ledgers away from her. Do the same with your heart.”
Tristan thought about his wife. He thought not of the clumsy seductress, but the one who admitted that she was failing. He admired how she took the Miss Priggish armor to protect herselfand her family.