Kissing Caroline changed everything for Tristan. By mutual agreement, she’d stopped coming to his room for duchess lessons. He missed her, but he couldn’t continue the charade of a loveless marriage until he came up with a plan. He’d withdrawn from the war zone in order to size up the enemy. The war wasn’t with Caroline or himself. It was with the malaria. After four days apart from her, he decided on a strategy. If he could go a full month without a fever, starting now, he’d court his wife properly. If the kiss they shared was an indication, and he believed it was, her feelings were as strong as his. He had to get well. It was that simple.
He also had to convince her that she’d make an excellent duchess. They wouldn’t return to England immediately, maybe not for years, but someday he’d take the mantle of authority and he wanted her at his side. His father felt otherwise, and he’d made his objections clear.
He’d also continued to show a keen interest in Freddie, and the boy had eaten up the attention. Tristan understood all too well. Pampered poodles did tricks for treats, and the duke was doling out praise with a heavy hand.
Tristan wanted his father to return to England, but he couldn’t broach the subject as long as Louisa was ill. According to Bessie, Louisa had the worst case of chicken pox the nurse had ever seen. Louisa had conveyed through Bessie that she wasn’t ready for visitors, but she hoped to speak with Tristan as soon as she recovered. Considering he’d lived with the mystery of their parting for fifteen years, he didn’t mind the delay.
He was far more concerned about Caroline, who was looking at him from across the breakfast table with a pensive expression. She had finished her meal except for her coffee, which he now knew she drank with one heaping spoonful of sugar. After lowering the cup, she put her napkin on the table but didn’t excuse herself, a sign the wall between them was about to come down.
He set down his cup of tea and waited.
Caroline put her hands in her lap.
He smiled.
She smiled back. “I have a favor to ask.”
“Of course,” he answered. “What can I do for you?”
“I want to learn to ride.”
He couldn’t have been more surprised if she’d announced she could fly. “You do?”
“Yes.” She sat straighter. “Evaline finished my riding habit last night. We can start today if you’re free.”
“I’m free, but—” He felt like he had water in his ears. “Why are you doing this? You don’t like horses.”
“You do.”
“Yes, but there’s no need for you to trouble yourself.”
She looked deflated, but then she bucked up. “If you don’t want to teach me, I could ask Jon—”
“No,” he said quickly. “I’m just surprised.”
“In a bad way?”
“Not at all.” He was surprised in a good way...a very good way. Since he’d started counting the days without a fever, he’d marked four days off the calendar. He had moments of feeling poorly, but he hadn’t been pasted to his bed like a corpse. He’d gone even longer if he counted back to the trip from the river, but on his mental calendar he had twenty-six days before he could open the doors between their rooms.
Teaching Caroline to ride gave him a welcome excuse to be with her. “I assume you’ll want to ride sidesaddle?”
“Actually, no.”
She stood and he saw her riding costume, a tailored jacket with a split skirt. The garment was unusual, and he wondered how she’d come up with it. It would preserve her modesty but he knew how his father would react. He’d call her a hoyden. Tristan thought she looked both lovely and practical. For a rancher’s wife, riding astride made perfect sense and he’d have suggested it himself. She could have worn a pair of his trousers for all he cared about propriety, but he worried that his father would mock her without mercy.
“A split skirt is...unusual,” he said.
“Evaline made it for me.” Looking at him, she held out the sides. “You don’t approve?”
“Quite the contrary.” He skimmed her with his eyes. “It’s very practical.”
It was pretty, too. The fawn color contrasted with her dark hair and made her eyes light brown. He also saw the stubborn tilt of her chin and recalled taking her across the river. He wanted to make the lessons a resounding success, and he had an idea. He rose to his feet. “Shall we meet at the barn in an hour or so?”
“That would be fine.”
He dismissed her with a nod. “I’ll see you there.”
As she left the room, he watched the sway of her skirt. He didn’t know what the future held, but he planned to enjoy every minute of the morning. He admired Caroline’s courage. He also knew that making her comfortable around animals in general would go a long way to making the lessons a success. He left the table and headed for the front door.
As he reached for the knob, his father stepped into the house. “I’m here for Louisa.”
Tristan had heard from Evaline that she’d recovered enough for an outing. “Where are you going?”
“I thought we’d see some of this land of yours. Pennwright tells me it’s quite impressive.”
Tristan knew better than to trust the duke’s praise, but for a moment he was a boy again, hungry for his father’s attention. Wiser now, he addressed his father as a man. “If you’d like a guide, I’ll ask Jon to show you around.”
“I was hoping you’d accompany us.”
“I have a prior commitment.”
“I see.” The duke looked speculative. “I suppose a guide won’t be necessary. It’ll be a short ride.”
Tristan’s neck hairs prickled the way they did before cannon fire. He had the feeling he was missing something, but a direct challenge to the duke would only lead to subterfuge. If he hadn’t made plans with Caroline, he’d have gone with his father to keep an eye on him.
The rustle of skirts drew his gaze to the stairs. “Good morning!” Louisa said brightly.
With a sweep of his eyes, Tristan took in her royal-blue skirt and jacket, a lace jabot and a black top hat with a swathe of tulle to hide her face, no doubt still bearing marks of her illness. It was a tribute to her poise—and perhaps her need to get out of the house—that she’d decided to go for a ride in spite of her imperfect complexion.
“Good morning,” Tristan answered. “You’re looking well.”
“I feel wonderful.” She beamed a smile at him. “I was hoping to run into you this morning.”
The duke reached for the doorknob. “Don’t let me interrupt, my dear. I’ll meet you on the porch.”
The duke was never considerate. He’d left them alone for a reason, and Tristan feared he knew what it was. The duke wanted Louisa to tempt him so he’d return immediately to England. The ploy wouldn’t work, but he welcomed the chance to speak with her.
Graciously she tipped her head to the duke. “Thank you, your grace. This won’t take long.”
“Take all the time you need, Marchioness.” The duke used the title naturally, though Louisa was officially a dowager and the title belonged to Caroline. His departure left Tristan alone with Louisa for the first time in years.
She lowered her voice. “Could we speak in your study?”
“Certainly.” He indicated the hall, waited for her to pass and then followed her to his office. When she stepped inside, he indicated the divan. Instead of sitting, she shut the door he’d intentionally left open. He, too, wanted privacy but not at the risk of provoking curiosity or worry for Caroline. There was no reason to think she’d come looking for him, but he couldn’t ignore the possibility.
“I’d prefer to keep the door open,” he said quietly. Already the meeting felt clandestine.
“I don’t trust the duke,” she whispered. “His valet could be lurking.”
Tristan had to agree. Leaving the door shut, he stood directly in front of it. He’d open in it in a heartbeat if anyone approached, especially if he recognized the tap of Caroline’s boots. Being alone with Louisa was a potential insult to his wife, and he didn’t want to hurt her feelings.
Instead of sitting, Louisa stayed on her feet. With her chin high, she lifted the veil from her face so that he could see her eyes along with polka dots left by the fading chicken pox. She held her chin high. “For fifteen years I’ve prayed that you’d forgive me for what I did.”
“I have,” he answered. “Though I have to admit, I’m not sure what I’m forgiving.”
“Oh, Tristan—” Her voice broke.
He’d once loved this woman. He still did—but only as a sister. Protective instincts compelled him to comfort her, but he stayed by the door. Until he could be sure she wasn’t being used by the duke, he’d keep a firm and polite distance. “You left me for Andrew.”
“I had no choice.”
Caroline had used the same words about crossing the river. “There’s always a choice, Louisa. And there’s always a cost. I bear you no ill will, but I’d like to know why you did it.”
“You know my father gambled.”
“Yes.” So did the duke, the difference being the duke could afford to lose and Louisa’s father couldn’t.
Louisa steadied herself with a breath. “My father ran up a terrible debt. Your father offered to cover it, but only if I married Andrew.”
“Why would he do that?”
Louisa bit her lip. “I’m ashamed to tell you.”
She turned and went to the window, giving Tristan a moment to consider the facts he’d evaluated a hundred times before. He’d been in love with Louisa, but she hadn’t been highly sought after. Her father had a lesser title than the duke, and her family was known to be in debt. Her one asset was her beauty. If she and Andrew had produced children, they would have been lovely to behold. And that, Tristan realized, was why his father had essentially bought Louisa for Andrew. She’d been no better than broodmare.
He felt sick for her. “My father gave you to Andrew because you’re beautiful.”
“Yes.”
“But you had no children.”
Louisa turned abruptly to the window. “I didn’t know about Andrew until our wedding night.”
“Know what?”
She continued to speak to the window. “Andrew preferred the company of his male friends in London. He was a homosexual.”
“I see.” Tristan had heard rumors about his brother, but he’d written them off as gossip.
Louisa still had her back to him. “That’s why we failed to produce an heir. He had no interest in me.”
“He had no interest in women,” Tristan corrected. “That’s why my father forced the marriage. Andrew needed a push, and you were the perfect pawn.”
At last Tristan understood why she left him. If she’d refused to marry Andrew, the duke would have ruined her father and her two sisters would have suffered. The conversation answered one question but raised two others. Had the duke deliberately picked Louisa because he knew Tristan would be hurt? Not likely, Tristan decided. The duke hadn’t cared about him at all.
The second worry had burdened him for fifteen years. “I should have found a way to speak with you. I should have helped you—”
“Oh, Tristan...” She turned away from the window but didn’t approach him. “There was nothing you could have done to stop your father. We were young. Even if I’d come to you, we couldn’t have run away. I had a duty to protect my family, especially my sisters.”
“You paid a high price.”
“Yes, but I’m done paying my father’s debt. Your father brought me on this trip as your reward for returning to England. Your American wife disrupted that plan, but he has another one and it’s despicable. I will tell you now that I will do nothing to come between you and Caroline. I’ve hurt you enough already.”
“It’s over and done,” he replied. “I married Molly and had a wonderful time of it.”
“I’m glad.”
So was Tristan. “You’ve had a far harder life, I’m afraid.”
“Yes, but I’m done being used. The duke instructed me to break up your marriage, but I won’t do it.”
She couldn’t have done it even if she tried. His feelings for Caroline grew with each passing day. If the malaria stayed away as he hoped, he’d be free to tell her he loved her.
Louisa’s expression turned wistful. “Please don’t misunderstand, Tristan. It’s not that I don’t care for you. If you’d been free to marry, I’d have been glad to test the waters. But you’re not free. You’re married to a charming woman who loves you very much.” She lifted one brow. “And If I’m not mistaken, you’re being neglectful.”
“What do you mean?”
“Husbands and wives often choose to maintain separate bedrooms, but a wife rarely chooses to sleep in a tiny little room that’s clearly meant to be a nursery.”
“How do you know it’s a nursery?” he said, scowling.
“Is it?”
He said nothing, which told Louisa everything.
“That’s what I thought,” she said cheekily. “I caught a glimpse of the tiny space when your housekeeper left the door open while cleaning. Something’s amiss. I don’t know why you’re not showing your wife proper attention, but it’s plain you’re keeping her at arm’s length. I’ve been watching her, Tristan. She cares for you, and I believe you care for her. What’s wrong?”
Old friend or not, Louisa didn’t have the right to such an intimate observation. “My marriage is none of your business.”
“Yes, but I consider Caroline a friend, and I know how it feels to be a neglected wife. Don’t make that mistake.”
He didn’t want to neglect Caroline at all. He wanted to spend the rest of his life with her, but he had to be sure he had a future. “I have my reasons.”
“Whatever they are, you’re hurting Caroline.”
Tristan said nothing. If he told Louisa about his illness, she might accidentally reveal the information to the duke. “Thank you for your concern, Louisa. The circumstances are complicated.”
“As are mine,” she said. “Which leads to the other reason I wanted to speak with you in private. I need your help.”
“In what way?”
“I need a husband.” She gave him a winsome smile. “Since you’re not available, I’m considering Stuart Whitmore. Do you know him?”
“I do.” Whitmore owned a ranch thirty miles from The Barracks. Like Tristan, he was the youngest son of a duke. Unlike Tristan, he had a reputation as a rake. Rumor had it his father had banished him to America.
“He’s an interesting fellow,” Tristan acknowledged. “A bit of a scoundrel, but he’s done well for himself.”
“He’s also in need of a wife.” She lifted one brow. “We met in Cheyenne. I thought perhaps you could hold a house party and invite him?”
Tristan had failed to rescue Louisa once before. He saw a chance to help her now, but he had to consider the cost. A gathering meant having his father stay longer at The Barracks, and it would require Caroline to test her mettle as a hostess. If the party failed, he might lose her completely. But if it succeeded—and he was sure it would—she’d gain some of the confidence she needed to be a duchess. Battles weren’t won by being timid. “That’s a grand idea,” he said. “I’d like to get to know Whitmore better myself.”
“Excellent!” She smiled. “He has family visiting from England. We can invite them all.”
Tristan nodded in agreement, but his protective instincts began a backbeat of caution. Whitmore’s father was Darryl Whitmore, the Duke of Somerville. He was known to be an impressive man, and the Duchess of Somerville could be as haughty as Tristan’s father. Entertaining Whitmore and some Americans would have presented a challenge to Caroline. Providing entertainment for English nobility was far more daunting.
“Who exactly is visiting?” he asked.
Her eyes sparkled. “The Duke of Somerville passed away two years ago. The dowager doesn’t care for her daughter-in-law, so she decided to visit her youngest son in America. She’s traveling with her two nieces.”
“The dowager is quite formidable,” Tristan acknowledged.
“She is,” Louisa agreed. “I’ll need your help to impress her.”
“We’ll also need male guests for the two nieces.”
“I’m sure Mr. Whitmore has friends.”
“No doubt,” Tristan agreed. “I’ll speak to Caroline later today. In fact, I’ll suggest she invite friends of her own.”
Before he’d ended their late-night talks, she’d told him about her friends in Denver and a place called Swan’s Nest. He knew that Adelaide Clarke had married a Boston preacher named Joshua Blue, and Mary Larue had recently married a famous gunslinger. Even Tristan had heard of J. T. Quinn. She’d also visited Pearl and Matt Wiley in Cheyenne before arriving at The Barracks. Not only did Tristan want to meet the people Caroline loved, he also saw an opportunity to finish what they’d started at the courthouse in Wheeler Springs. If he stayed healthy, they could repeat their wedding vows in front of people she loved, with Reverend Blue presiding.
Louisa’s eyes twinkled with hope that had nothing to do with him. “I know Stuart’s a rake, but he quite charmed me in Cheyenne. Your father disliked him intensely.”
Tristan laughed. “All the more reason to invite him to a party.”
“I’m afraid the dowager might be difficult,” she said apologetically. “She’s quite willing to speak her mind.”
Tristan thought of Caroline. He could teach her etiquette and history, but she’d need more than knowledge to contend with a cranky dowager. She’d need confidence with a touch of audacity and a sprinkling of wit. He’d help her as much as he could, but the battle would be hers. He considered begging off the house party, but he saw a benefit to Caroline facing the dowager in their own home surrounded by friends.
Louisa interrupted his thoughts. “I should be leaving for that ride with your father. I detest the man, but I’m pitifully dependent at the moment.”
“Not for long, I hope.”
He opened the door and guided her into the hall. She paused to adjust the veil on her hat, then she tugged on the black gloves she’d had in her pocket. As he crossed the threshold, he saw Caroline in the entry hall. Her back was to them and she was opening the door. Had she come to his study first? Had she heard them talking? Tristan refused to allow even the faintest stain on his loyalty to her.
“Caroline!” he called in a loud voice.
She faced him with an eager expression. At the sight of Louisa, her eyes widened with surprise then narrowed with dismay.
“Hello,” she murmured to them both. “Louisa, you’re looking well.”
“Thank you.” She went to Caroline and gripped her hands. “You have a wonderful husband, Caroline. Treasure him.”
She gave a last look to Tristan, one he knew was a goodbye, then she left him alone with his wife.
Caroline watched Louisa slip through the door in a cloud of royal-blue linen. As the door creaked shut, she turned back to Tristan and saw both a challenge and an admission in his eyes. He’d been alone with Louisa in his study. She’d expected the old friends to have conversations, but the moment had a secretive air. She felt excluded and forgotten.
Turning back to him, she forced a smile. “I’m sorry to interrupt.”
Tristan strode across the entry hall and took her hands in both of his. “You didn’t interrupt a thing.”
“But—”
He looked as if he wanted to kiss her. Instead he gave her a stern look and let go of her fingers. When he stepped back, she felt utterly foolish for imagining a kiss and averted her gaze to the floor. She saw boot prints, wondered who’d left them and wished she’d left the house five minutes sooner.
Tristan cleared his throat. “Louisa has asked us for a favor.”
Caroline lifted her face, but she still felt foolish. “What is it?”
“She’d like us to hold a house party.” Tristan described how Louisa had met Stuart Whitmore and explained about the man’s family. The thought of entertaining a dowager duchess nearly sent Caroline running to her room. She’d mustered her courage to learn to ride. Having a house full of women as poised as Louisa was more than she could imagine.
“I’m not ready for that much company,” she said to Tristan. “I’ll embarrass you.”
“That’s not possible.”
She managed to laugh. “I think it is.”
Both commanding and imperial, he held her in place with a piercing blue gaze. The air smelled of his shaving soap, and his freshly scraped jaw remind her of a marble bench in the garden at Swan’s Nest. She’d often sat there to pray, smelling roses and dust and wishing for a man like Tristan to love her. Upstairs she heard Evaline speaking to Dora. Footsteps charged down the hall and she looked up. The little girl was nowhere in sight, but Caroline felt all the ties of being a family. If she wanted to keep her adopted family, she had to fight for them. She had to prove her abilities to herself and a house full of English nobles.
“All right,” she said. “We’ll give that party.
“Very good.” He sounded like an officer praising a private who’d managed to properly shine his shoes. “Louisa can help you with the invitation for the Whitmores. She knows their names and titles. I thought you’d also like to invite your friends from Denver.”
Caroline very much wanted to see Adie, Mary and Pearl, but they didn’t know she’d gotten married and she didn’t want to explain the circumstances. Neither were her friends accustomed to the ways of people like the Duke of Willoughby. “It would be awkward.”
“Nonsense.” Tristan frowned. “They’re your friends and they’re welcome here. Invite them.”
“I’d rather not.”
A peeved expression crossed his face. She’d disregarded his request, something a good soldier didn’t do, but she couldn’t face her friends. They’d want to hear about the courtship that hadn’t happened and the marriage that existed solely for legal reasons. Just as problematic, they’d come if she asked and the trip to The Barracks was long and difficult. Pearl was expecting a baby in a couple of months. Just before Caroline left Denver, Mary had whispered that her monthly was two weeks late.
She could see Tristan’s dissatisfaction, but she wouldn’t change her mind. Instead she changed the subject. “When should we send the invitations?”
“Immediately,” he answered. “We’ve had excellent weather, but it won’t last. I’ll have the invitations hand delivered to the Whitmores. I imagine the guests will stay a week. We’ll need entertainment...music and games, maybe charades. And for course, there will be riding for everyone.”
“Riding?” she said meekly.
“Absolutely. Nothing strenuous for the women, just an easy tour of the ranch. For the men, we’ll have a hunt, perhaps jousting.”
“Jousting!”
“Only for the men,” he said, laughing. She loved the sound of it, but she had more doubts than ever that she could be the wife he needed. He gave her another stern look. “Let’s begin those riding lessons.”
“Yes,” she murmured.
Mustering her courage, she walked with Tristan out the door and to the stable where a very large and intimidating horse awaited her, a fitting reminder of the challenges to come.