Chapter Thirteen
Benedict hid a yawn behind his hand as he strolled the grounds of Worthington Hall. The long-awaited summer fete was well in progress and had been for a few hours. His mother had reigned over a noontime luncheon with all the majesty and elegance of a queen. She’d heartily enjoyed herself, and many of the local gentry had flocked to talk with her afterward.
It had warmed his heart to see her making such a stir within the community, for whether she believed it or not, she had much loving yet to do, and she’d find happiness again if a fortunate fellow were to catch her eye.
During the meal, Lord Randolph had returned, this time with plans to stay—and the luggage to prove it. Now that games were presented upon the lawn and his mother remained busy, Benedict pulled Augustus aside. He needed someone who wasn’t related to him to talk with, someone who would give him a clear direction and opinion on what he should do about his relationship with Lady Anne.
“Might I have your ear for a moment?” he asked of the popular lord, for Augustus had quite a way with the ladies. Already he’d made a few of them titter and blush from merely a glance. Truth be told, the fact he was the heir-apparent to marquessate had everything to do with that.
More’s the pity, for Augustus was a good man beneath his roguish tendencies.
“Of course, my friend. What ails you?” Augustus held a plate laden with food from luncheon, and as they walked, he did his level best at consuming it as if he hadn’t eaten for a week.
“The same thing that had me at sixes and sevens the last time we spoke.” He shoved his spectacles back up the bridge of his nose.
“Ah, the charming and captivating Lady Anne Lewis. But didn’t you tell me then you had no designs on her?”
“I believe I said nothing regarding that.”
“Then obviously you lied.” Once they’d stopped beneath the wide canopy of an oak tree’s branches, Augustus glanced over Benedict’s shoulder. When his eyes lit, it was an obvious sign he’d located the lady. “Despite her oddness, she’s proved quite popular at this fete. She never lacks for conversational partners. I’ll wager it’ll be more of the same once the dancing follows dinner.”
A stab of jealousy lanced through his chest. He struggled to shove that feeling away lest it appear in his expression. “She’s welcome to enjoy herself the same as anyone.”
“Except if she’s speaking, dancing, or flirting with a male over the age of say fifteen?” A wicked twinkle gleamed in his eyes as he gobbled up his double portion of a chicken salad on a bed of greens.
Benedict pulled a face, much as he’d done when they’d been youths. “There are more than enough young ladies about to keep various interested parties busy.” Then he sighed. “That wasn’t well done of me. I have no right to claim her time, of course.”
“Of course,” his friend said with a grin as he set to work on a quail stuffed with a savory dressing of bread, vegetables, and fresh herbs. “However, you forget that I know when you’re lying. You have a tell, my friend. The muscle at the corner of your right eye twitches, and it’s going like mad.”
Damnation. It couldn’t be helped. “Perhaps you’re wrong.”
“And perhaps you’re head over heels, tip over tale, there’s nothing to stop the slide, in love with Lady Anne.” Augustus shoveled in a few bites of asparagus. Once he’d swallowed, he added, “To say nothing of the fact that being in love scares the hell out of you.”
Was there any point in arguing? Deciding there wasn’t, Benedict slowly nodded. “Fine. You win. I’m hopelessly in love with the woman.” He stared at his friend from over the tops of his spectacles. “After a week. After knowing next to nothing about her other than she’s daring and fearless and captivating. What sort of nodcock does that make me?”
“I don’t believe it makes you a nodcock.” Augustus moved on to his tenderloin of beef, and since he couldn’t carve it like a gentleman while standing, he merely stabbed it with his fork and hefted it up, taking bites of it as if he were a boorish lout. “It makes you hopeful.”
“I’ll take that explanation.” Benedict refused to turn about and find her with his gaze, for as soon as he did that, he’d be lost, and his thoughts would run away with him. “Putting aside the unorthodox way my feelings came about, I find myself constantly confused about what to do now.”
“Why does this frighten you so much?”
Why indeed? For several seconds, Benedict remained silent. Then he rubbed a hand along the side of his face. “For one, I’m not certain I’m the sort of man she needs. Her personality and mine are completely opposite. Isn’t that the very definition of not being able to be together for longer than this?” Hadn’t last night shown him that? Anne had bullied and beguiled her way beneath his skin. She’d taunted and teased until he’d lost his control, done as she’d asked, and bedded her thoroughly and without apology or finesse in the rain, hovering on the edge of certain scandal.
I must have more decorum, more mettle.
The next time they came together carnally—if they did—he vowed it would be him who initiated the coupling, not her. He wouldn’t give her the opportunity to boss him in that.
At least for a little while, for he rather liked her enthusiasm and confidence.
Augustus snickered. He finished his tenderloin and then wiped his mouth with a linen napkin. “Most of the time, opposites attract more than any other type. You don’t find her odd, though. In fact, you’ve accepted her without protest from the second you met her.” Again, he flicked his gaze over Benedict’s shoulder. “She seems to have done the same with you. Adopted you under her wing and is pulling you along with her.”
“Into madness?”
“You tell me. There must be a reason, for you’ve decided to support her endeavors.” Augustus shifted his gaze to Benedict’s. “You’re the most upstanding man I know. Rarely have you even taken a mistress.”
“There’s a decent level of risk in a dalliance with a woman you pluck from a brothel or club. Disease and what not.”
Augustus rolled his eyes. “You hardly ever gamble.”