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.”