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himself from reaching for her and pulling her close.
    What in bloody hell was wrong with him?
    “I will count on you not to leave my side this evening,” Victoria said as they strolled past several more paintings, each one more repulsive than the last, in his opinion.
    “Who proposed the barbaric notion of a marriage mart?” she asked.
    They passed a couple and bowed their heads in unison. The man looked miserable, his lips in a pout, while his companion’s eyes flashed in obvious anger.
    Tristan leaned towards Tori then whispered, “Someone who is a glutton for punishment?”
    “Marriage can’t be that bad,” she shook her head. “Look at Sebastian and Gwen. They’re blissfully happy. One could argue that they belong together.”
    Victoria gauged Tristan’s reaction. His brow furrowed as he appeared to contemplate her last statement. When he failed to respond, she added, “I suppose some are fated to be together.”
    “While some are fated to be alone.” His baritone reflected a combination of acceptance and what she recognized as remorse.
    He was grouping himself in the latter category, she surmised.
    “That is why your help is crucial to me,” she teased in an attempt to alleviate the maudlin mood that had settled within him. “I refuse to be shackled to someone related to the repulsive Lady Madeline Markham. We must find someone better suited for me.”
    She paused long enough for it to sink in that Tristan would lose her if he didn’t make a move soon. Then she added, her tone light, “Shall we find Gwen? She is terribly excited to see you.”
    They journeyed towards the main staircase when a good-humored male baritone called out, “Mr. MacAlistair, I have been looking everywhere for you.”
    Turning, Tristan offered the tall, broad shouldered man his hand. “Lord Bixby, how are you this evening?”
    “I detest events like this. They are so dreadfully boring, however, the food is delicious as is the liquor, which redeems the event.” His flushed cheeks hinted that he had indeed imbibed his fair share of the fine liquor.
    “Lord Bixby, allow me to introduce Lady Victoria Montgomery.”
    Tori offered her gloved hand to the dark haired man with gold wire rimmed glasses. “It is an honor, my Lord.”
    “Tell me, my dear, do you find this event as dreadfully boring as I do?”
    “To the contrary, my Lord, I find it most fascinating,” her eyes danced at Lord Bixby’s obvious surprise. “Where else can I encounter so many crucial members of Parliament? After all, you and your colleagues will be procuring me the right to vote in the near future, will you not?”
    Tristan coughed behind his hand. It was all he could do to hide the smile that swept across his face at Tori’s last words.
    Damn, she was courageous!
    Bixby noticed it as well. “Brava, my dear!” he said with a laugh. “Where did you ever find this woman, Tristan? Beautiful and intelligent, I dare say.”
    “Thank you, my Lord,” Tori tipped her head. “I dare say my fate couldn’t be in better hands.”
    Bixby offered her a toothy smile. “Mark my words, a man could accomplish anything with such a wife.”
    In spite of his mind’s objections, Tristan’s heart was assured of it.

    * * *

    Dinner at the Duke and Duchess of Davenport’s London townhome was spectacular. It never ceased to amaze Tristan the opulence in which his sister now lived.  
    Their London home was a three-story townhouse decorated with lavish bronze statues, Louis IV furnishings, Aubusson carpets, marble floors and vivid artwork.
    Tristan was glad his niece and nephew were present throughout dinner. It made it easier for him to appear interested, as talk centered around their upcoming birthday party for the most part. Since the debacle of his engagement to Eve, Gwen had a tendency to discuss his personal life, so concerned was she about the hermit she believed he had become.
    Gwen knew not the depths to which it was presumed her twin had sunk. In truth,