She did not like how she choked on her words, almost in tears. She breathed deeply and exhaled audibly.
“I know it may not be the same, but I have experienced what it was like to rely on myself,” he volunteered. “I grew up here in this large house, surrounded by an even larger estate that only felt like a tomb. My father and mother were the ghosts that inhabited it, barely there for me. They were only interested in what I could do. What I am good at.”
It was Cathy’s turn to reach out, squeezing the callused hands of a duke who would never be content with having someone else do all the labor.
“I know that I did not suffer as much as you did,” he continued. “I had never lacked for wealth.”
Cathy thought of all their struggles to keep food on the table and pay the servants, at least the ones they had left. She shook her head, then.
“It is not only the poverty of finances and material belongings that can scar a person. Even the lack of affection could.”
Silence followed that statement, as they continued working on the remaining pages. After they closed the final ledger for the night, Cathy felt a strange kind of loss. She realized that she did not want the night to end.
“Thank you, Your Grace. It was easier to work with them when someone who truly knows how they work is there to provide support and additional knowledge.”
Tristan stood up, and it felt like goodbye. Cathy felt a twinge of pain in her chest. What could she do? It looked like they worked well together, but physical intimacy might be a different matter altogether. He did not trust her there. Not after everything that happened.
“You do not have to do this alone anymore, Cathy,” he said, breaking into her reverie. “I am going to hire a steward for you to handle all of this for you. He is very meticulous. You do not have to spend your nights struggling.”
“I like doing it, I have done it for so long that—”
“I have no doubt that youcando it. I have seen it with my own two eyes,” he interrupted. “But let him do the tiring work for you. You will still give him your final say. The reports will require your signature, of course. You have worked too hard all your life. It is time that you have some help. I want you to know that you can depend on me.”
Tristan leaned down to her, his face so close she could not breathe.
“But... Why do you want to help me? After everything that happened, I thought that you hated me.”
“I never said I hated you, Cathy. I just never want you to pretend again,” he said softly. “I want the woman I was with tonight. The real you.”
“I...” she stammered, her voice too weak.
I was not pretending.
She did not know how to handle the wild feelings she had for her own husband. “It is because...”
“Get some rest, Cathy.”
Tristan simply smiled at her before leaving the room.
Chapter 22
“Iwill be away for a few days, Cathy,” Tristan said. “I must deal with some matters on the coast.”
“Do you not have anyone there to take care of it?” she asked, her fork pausing midair, undoubtedly thinking of his offer to provide her with some help. So, why was he suddenly embarking on a trip that required him to tackle the work himself once more?
“I do, but my presence there is required,” he lied.The secrets he kept for now were not for his own benefit, but they would be better explained after his mission was done.
Cathy looked at him suspiciously. Tristan was not seeking to betray her. On the contrary, but he could not tell her now. Not yet. He could not tell her that he had spent a small fortune on informants over the last few weeks to locate her father. It would be difficult to explain how he had exchanged letters with many a disreputable man and met men who were nothing more than criminals in dark alleys.
He had finally received a report on Quinten’s whereabouts, but it was still too fragile to share. He could not raise her hopes onlyto dash them.
“But all the way to the coast?” she asked, her voice sounding small. Even after the disappointment from a few nights ago, he could not bear to hear her so uncertain. “I thought we had already settled everything in the northern farms.”
“We have a minor... complication,” Tristan lied, the words tasting and feeling like ash on his tongue.He hated lying to her even after she had angered him with her deceptions.
He turned to her. She looked so vulnerable and much younger in the morning light. Miss Priggish was back, at least in the way she pulled her hair back in a bun so tightly coiled it must have hurt. Even the severe way in which her hair was fashioned could not take away from the softness of her features.
“But I will return by Friday,” he reassured her, his voice softening. “Do try to rest. Sit back and read a book, or whatever you do for leisure. Take a walk in the gardens and breathe in the air. Leave the ledgers alone for now.”