There was no real response to his apology. Tristan shrunk away from the doorway to let her in and sat down at the table. Then came the next blow.

Reflecting on it, it all made sense. His accounts had been off. He had blamed it on his being shit at math and accounting. There was a reason his father had insisted he’d train as a doctor, rather than help in the business. After redoing his calculations several times, he had given up. It had never occurred to him… Dear Pippa. Poor Pippa. Had she known? And him scolding her all the time… And his sister sleeping on the floor to keep watch over her.

Tristan looked twice his age as he set there, shoulders drooped, forearms leaning on the table, looking at his hands. He plucked at the skin around his thumbnail, a bad habit from childhood which despite countless reprimands had never been fully suppressed. “Then she must be recompensated,” he concluded in a pragmatic tone. It was all he could do to not break. “As for that man who’s after her, she has no reason to fear him any longer. I found out yesterday that he’s been arrested and sentenced to death for the murder of her family. She can return to the life she had if we can arrange a cover for her… possible illness and pregnancy. Anyway, things will probably turn out well for her now.” His frowning face didn’t show it. But then, Penelope might not notice, as he was still looking down at his hands.