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“I doubt it.” He laughed. “But I am pleased to see you smiling.” His eyes did not linger on her, but turned toward his younger brother’s escape route. “I apologize for Cavendish’s abysmal manners. I hope you can forgive him the insult.”

She followed his gaze, holding her smile though it faltered. “I suppose it is only a taste of what I might endure from others.” She did rather hope that nobody else would have cause to say it to her face. Even so, she couldn’t be that upset. Cavendish was right in most of what he accused her of. With ‘strumpet’ being an exception. After all, the only man whose touch she knew intimately was her husband’s. And her knowledge there was not yet complete.

If Tristan had any words of comfort, he did not utter them. But then why would he? To contradict her would be a blatant lie. Instead, he gave her an almost apologetic smile before bending low to kiss her temple. It was the briefest and barest touch, but the show of affection was the balm she needed.

That comfort lasted well through the cake and the speeches, ebbing only once she’d changed into her gray carriage dress and pelisse and was saying her farewells in the foyer.

Aunt Charlotte’s eyes shone with tears, though she insisted they were joyous. Arabella demanded Elinor write on a daily basis, and promised to be a frequent visitor as soon as Elinor was settled in her new abode. Uncle Edward explained they’d be taking Bella to Town for the remainder of the Season after all (Elinor endeavored to look surprised) before he uttered his own goodbyes. Even Henry managed a sincere farewell. Alexander alone sulked and simmered—though she knew that had more to do with Cav ruining his attempt at seducing one of Summersby’s maids. Elinor resolved to see Cav got extra dessert for a week for that service.

“I will not smile until you apologize,” Alexander said, nodding toward Tristan though keeping his voice low.

“I’ll do no such thing.” Elinor rolled her eyes. “Honestly, Alex! What were you thinking? It’s the height of boorishness.”

“Hush,” he urged, offering his arm as the party made their way out to the drive, all of them engaged in excited chatter and far too preoccupied with one another to pay much attention to the conversation behind them. “Mother will hear.”

“She already knows,” Elinor retorted. “Haven’t you noticed all the servants at home are old as the hills? You really do not give your parents enough credit.”

“Ah, and three hours of marriage makes you suddenly oh-so-clever and oh-so-wise?”

“I should think that is more the overconfidence of a new title,” she said with a forced grin as her eyes fell on their elaborate travel coach with the Ruthven arms decorating its door and curtains of actual velvet. She’d be so eager to get inside, if only it was going somewhere—anywhere—else.

“You used to love it, you know,” Alexander said, patting her hand as it trembled on his arm. “London. When we were younger, you loved going to the parks and the Pantheon Bazaar, getting ices at Gunters. It’s easy to forget all the good when you’re so focused on why a place is terrible. So you saw a bit of madness and Edward made things worse, but at least it wasn’t Spain?”

Elinor sighed. “Perhaps I have let my fear grow larger than was merited. I suspect the only way to slay the beast now is to face it. And I shall.” She straightened her back and puffed out her chest as if posture could summon the courage to step into the carriage. But she didn’t move. In that moment, Tristan turned, releasing Lady Summersby from a short embrace, and his darkened gaze fell on her. Elinor felt her body warm in answer.

Alexander chuckled. “You must really be fond of him, cousin,” he whispered. “And here I thought this was just an elaborate plot to get out of marrying me.”

“I’m not the one who drunkenly bemoaned the idea to him, so if anyone was plotting—”

“He did not tell you that?” Alexander’s smile fell away. “Elinor, I—”

“It’s all right, Alex. I was prepared to be a governess rather than force you to the altar. I’d hate to spend my life hiring new maids.” She gave him one final smile and let go of his arm. Tristan stepped to her side, helping her into the beautiful, intimidating carriage.

Inside, Cavendish squirmed and fidgeted beside his older sister, Cecilia, who Elinor had truly spoken with only twice as yet. She, Cav, and Elizabeth had been packed off quickly with their old aunt the day after the ball, and hadn’t returned until two days before the wedding in which time Elinor had been run through endless fittings, tutorials on etiquette, and household lessons as Lady Summersby finished off a solid two weeks of what Arabella jokingly called Countess College. Though lacking her sister’s effortless charm and vivacity, Cecilia shared her fine-boned beauty and innate kindness. And thankfully she seemed too relieved at having a sister-in-law to care about Elinor’s shoddy pedigree.

“Your cousin said you’re scared of London,” Cavendish blurted once Elinor settled in, smoothing a soft gray traveling blanket across her lap.

“Which one?”

“The big blond one who was chasing skirts all morning.”

“Cav!” Cecilia’s cheeks flushed a vivid pink and she fiddled with the mourning band sewn onto Cavendish’s sleeve. None of the siblings wore full black—and Tristan wore no band whatsoever. Neither he nor Lady Summersby had maintained one all spring, in fact. “This is to be a very long journey, and I do not wish to start it with you antagonizing everyone.”

“All I was going to say was that London isn’t so scary. Just smelly. And loud. And dirty. It’s all stupid walks in ugly parks and dull parties,” Cav retorted. Elinor edged further left as Tristan stepped up into the coach and took his seat next to her, the door closing behind him, just in time for him to hear Cavendish’s next pronouncement: “Too bad Napoleon didn’t invade it.”

“Cavendish!” This from both of his siblings.

“You’re only upset because Weston wasn’t chasing your skirt, Ceci.” That set them to bickering while Tristan sighed next to her, his shoulder rising as though ready to shout at both of them. Until Elinor chuckled. Cav rounded on her as the carriage lurched into motion. “What is so amusing?”

“You remind me so much of my cousins.” All siblings quarreled and picked at one another, somehow. She’d glimpsed such interplay between Evelina and Tristan, but this was the more familiar rhythm of insults Alex and Bella traded.

“Your cousins do not attempt to destroy the furniture,” Tristan said with a hard smile at Cavendish. “Or ruin banquets.” They had, in fact, ruined several pieces of furniture, but Elinor decided not to mention it. Yet.

“He never!” Cecilia gasped. “Oh, what did you do?”

“Nothing.” His lips turned in a sullen pout. “Elinor made me stop.”

“It occurs to me the navy still accepts recruits of thirteen years.” Tristan settled back, his hand finding Elinor’s in the folds of the blanket. “Fancy a uniform for a birthday present?”