What you Deserve by Adele Clee

Author:Adele Clee [Clee, Adele]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2016-08-24T04:00:00+00:00

Tristan waited for Miss Smythe to depart before returning to the terrace room. Miss Smythe’s placid temperament had served to mellow his mood, albeit somewhat temporarily. One wrong word from his mother and he would struggle to keep his anger at bay.

“Well?” His mother sat forward, gripping the padded arms of her favourite chair. “Did you find her agreeable?”

Tristan sat down in the chair opposite. He wanted to rant and rage, but experience had taught him that the element of surprise, coupled with a calm reserve, worked to unnerve one’s quarry.

“She is a delight,” he said honestly.

“I knew if you would only give her a little time you would soon see the merits of her character.”

“Indeed. I am confident Miss Smythe has the necessary attributes any gentleman would admire.”

His mother gave a contented sigh. “I am truly thrilled, and what a marvellous stroke of luck you were able to return home so promptly. I hope Mr. Henderson showed some remorse for wasting your time.”

He straightened, stared at the woman he knew was responsible for five years of pain and misery. “Albeit short, my trip was not a complete waste.” His time at Highley Grange had proved enlightening. “But urgent business brought me back to town.”

“Oh, Tristan,” she said chuckling weakly. “You may be honest with me. You came back to see Miss Smythe. I often find tiresome journeys give one the opportunity to think without distraction. I have made many wise decisions whilst rattling about the countryside in a carriage.”

Wise decisions? Was that the term she used for ruining lives. “Have you ever made a decision you have later come to regret?”

She seemed a little surprised by the question. Her head wobbled as she nodded and shook it at the same time. “One must have the courage to stand by one’s principles. Regret is for the weak, for those who like to wallow in sentiment.”

“I suppose you’re right.” He gave a mocking snort. “My time in France taught me to fight for justice, to fight for those downtrodden and mistreated. A mind plagued by excessive bouts of sentimentality is of no use in the field.”

She flapped her hand in the air and squeezed her eyes shut. “Let us not talk of your terrible time abroad. I cannot bear to think of you running about with those heathens.”

“The point I am making is that I do not regret my time there. And you know why I left, why I had no choice but to leave Kempston, to leave England.”

“Let us talk of something else.” In a fluster, she patted her hair, the base of her throat, her fingers refusing to remain still. “Have you arranged to meet Miss Smythe this evening?”

“I’m to dine with an old friend this evening. Miss Smythe intends to stay at home.” He felt no guilt for the small lie; it was nothing compared to the depth of his mother’s deceit.

“Well, perhaps it will give Miss Smythe an opportunity to pine for you. As a wise poet once said, ‘always toward absent lovers love's tide stronger flows.

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