She was alright then. But Tristan did not scold her then. He watched her work. She didn’t look alright, and his anger ebbed away in spite of himself. He was tired more than angry. Frustrated with the situation more than with her. He merely nodded when she spoke again and finally moved over to the table to sit. Scones for supper. This was what his life had come to.

He ignored them and took his cup into his hands. The last of his anger melted away when she apologised. Perhaps he had been just as angry with himself, that he couldn’t protect her without Lord Gordon’s help. That he couldn’t keep a business running. That he couldn’t keep her on even if she weren’t pregnant. And that he would have to turn a pregnant girl with no family or resources out on the streets. For now, he still acted like there would be a solution before it got to that point. But how irritable he was all the time. And how depleted he felt when the anger left him.

“It’s alright, Pippa. You were clearly not well enough to think about it,” he said wearily. “Only, be careful around men you don’t know. It would have been better to let him walk you home directly. You can’t know his intentions.”

"He was honest. He would have liked it if I stayed longer, if he were to get a room so we might talk. But he also respected my choice to say no. I said no because frankly, this is already messy enough. I've done something in my grief that I have to live with for the rest of my life. He and I did talk a lot, and none of it was about anything sordid, it was about how much things have affected us. He told me the truth about him, and I told the truth about me. And then I realized what was happening and that you were worried about me, possibly, and that I ought to get home and at least give you tea and then a late supper. I'm not hungry for myself, so I am not sure what to make as of yet. I am sorry." She sighed and took in a breath of the warm tea, visibly relaxing.

"I quite like Mr. Blacke, he is very kind and he was very easy to speak to. I invited him to talk in a more proper setting since we are looking for someone to take me to wife. I feel if a fellow is kind enough to help me to sit down and tend to me, he is worth talking to. I am sure I could send for a chaperone if you don't have time yourself to sit in on the conversation. I would very much like for you to be there, but I understand you are busy." Then she sipped and relaxed further. It was the calmest she had ever been in his presence. She had accepted her part in this, expressed her apologies, and trusted him with the truth.

It was a far cry from the girl she had been months before, stuck in the sorrowful state she was in. She had seemed to find some kind of resolution. No longer was Viktre holding onto her while not even being there, she had accepted that she was through watching for him and putting herself in that position at all. It could be seen in the way her shoulders seemed stooped, she looked worn out and grim, but the color was high in her cheeks to indicate that while she had been as respectful as she could given the circumstances, she had taken a fancy to the easy going fellow who'd walked her home. Except this time, she wasn't jumping into something. She had come home, and she had owned up.

His frustration rose again, though this time without anger. Was she really this naïve? He was honest? He had told her his story? Perhaps he had. Or perhaps it had been the pretty talk or the tragic background story to make a vulnerable girl like him. Pippa didn’t understand the world. And he couldn’t shield her from it.

“I’ll come with you,” he almost immediately snapped when she began about seeing the lad again and bringing a chaperone if he couldn’t make time. Hell, he didn’t have time, but he would make it to keep an eye on that boy. This whole looking for a husband to claim the child plan seemed like a bad idea to him, but Pippa seemed determined. It seemed the best he could do was to prevent her from marrying a complete scoundrel. “Actually, let him come here. You can use the drawing room upstairs.”

She flinched visibly when he snapped at her. Her eyes were different than he might have seen before. There was something tired and very much depressed about the way she seemed to shrink into herself at that point. She looked down and took in a shuddering breath, "I understand your mistrust... But I've also had enough time to think in my wanderings. To be honest, if this killer did find me, I don't know if I should hide anymore. I am also aware it must seem awful to you that I went to the docks once again... I wish to strike him. I wish to ball up my fist and be unladylike. I may be to blame, but so is he." She squared her shoulders and looked him in the eye. "I wish for you to trust me this one time. I know soon enough that I will start to show. My wish is to be able to keep you from being blamed in any way for the child in my belly. Whether either of us like it, my mistake impacts you worse if I cannot think of a way to keep the scandal upon my head and not yours." She paused and held up her hand in case he wished to speak, hoping he would let her finish. "The man did ask me to stay with him tonight and I decided not to let history repeat itself, he respected that I said no. Furthermore, I want you involved. I want you to be alright with him taking my hand. He made sure I was alright to even walk home by feeding me. I can assure you that nothing untoward was ever going to happen. I would like for you to hear his story and discern for yourself, and perhaps even see in him not only a solution, the fact that he is even willing to go through the steps I have laid out says more about his character than I first thought. I will let him speak for himself. If you still do not agree with him, then I will have to find another way to figure things out... But we both know that me staying here for much longer is a very bad idea."

Tristan opened his mouth to argue when Pippa told him she half wanted to draw the murderer out, but she continued speaking. He looked away uncomfortably when she suggested people might think he was responsible for her growing belly. The notion was all sorts of disgusting to him. Luckily that myth would easily be dispelled once the child was born. All the same, she was right. He couldn’t keep her on. With an already failing business, he couldn’t risk being associated with scandal.

He drank some of his tea to distract himself from the uncomfortable suggestion and watched Pippa over edge of the cup as she pleaded with him to trust her judgement. God, something in her pleading yet determined tone reminded him of himself when he was young, pleading with his father to let him make his own choices. And uncomfortably, Tristan realized he was becoming more like his father than he had known.

He set his cup down, defeated. “Very well, Pippa. Invite him here for tea on Sunday afternoon and I promise I will treat him with the utmost civility and an open mind. I will tell you what I think afterwards, but whatever you choose, I will respect and support it.”