Tristan’s heart was beating so hard he wondered if he might faint. Fainting seemed preferable to dealing with the situation he was faced with. As if his burdens were not already staggeringly heavy, he had just added a complication that could ruin the earldom, and get both of them hung. Not only that, he had waved his indiscretion in the face of his cousin, who was no doubt laughing up his sleeve at that very moment. But then he looked at Samuel. Standing there, tall, strong, dependable, desirable. His hair was awry, and his cravat wilted, but he was exactly what Tristan needed to see. He stood up, walked over to him and put his hands on his lapels for a moment, and stroked gently.
“Are you hurt?”
Samuel’s eyes closed momentarily as he shook his head. “No. You came in time. Mosely had me
