02-12-2025, 06:13 PM
(This post was last modified: 02-12-2025, 06:24 PM by Tristan Wells.)
At least neither of them made it more awkward. The gentleman was civil and Miss Zimmermann seemed too concerned about Pippa to probably even consider the social pickle.
"Much better since learning of the most recent developments," he replied while he took their things and put them away. "But I must insist you tread carefully." His voice was low. He did not want Pippa to hear him, but he also felt that a warning was due, especially now that there was a third party. He trusted Miss Zimmermann to handle Pippa's predicament with compassion. He wasn't too certain about Mr. Zimmermann.
He wasn't too certain Mr. Zimmermann wouldn't jump to conclusions either. Tristan's gun was back in his desk drawer. He now regretted removing the bullet.
"It's not my place to tell you any more, but she's suffered enough as it is and her nerves are in a delicate state. So be gentle on her. This way."
He led them upstairs. The door to the drawing room was open. It was on the good side of the building, with two tall windows looking out on Flowergate below. The furniture was comfortable and in a good state, but the room was otherwise modest. It lacked the elaborate decoration and clutter so common in drawing rooms where ladies received their visitors. The lack of an Angel in the House was only one explanation, however, for the apparent austerity. More than a few items that had previously graced Tristan's shelves and mantlepiece now graced the local pawnshop's window.
Tristan gestured for the guests to go in. "Please go through. She's in here. If you need anything, I'm right across." And he gestured at the door of his study.
"Much better since learning of the most recent developments," he replied while he took their things and put them away. "But I must insist you tread carefully." His voice was low. He did not want Pippa to hear him, but he also felt that a warning was due, especially now that there was a third party. He trusted Miss Zimmermann to handle Pippa's predicament with compassion. He wasn't too certain about Mr. Zimmermann.
He wasn't too certain Mr. Zimmermann wouldn't jump to conclusions either. Tristan's gun was back in his desk drawer. He now regretted removing the bullet.
"It's not my place to tell you any more, but she's suffered enough as it is and her nerves are in a delicate state. So be gentle on her. This way."
He led them upstairs. The door to the drawing room was open. It was on the good side of the building, with two tall windows looking out on Flowergate below. The furniture was comfortable and in a good state, but the room was otherwise modest. It lacked the elaborate decoration and clutter so common in drawing rooms where ladies received their visitors. The lack of an Angel in the House was only one explanation, however, for the apparent austerity. More than a few items that had previously graced Tristan's shelves and mantlepiece now graced the local pawnshop's window.
Tristan gestured for the guests to go in. "Please go through. She's in here. If you need anything, I'm right across." And he gestured at the door of his study.
