“Benjamin!”
Her chiding made him remember where he stood. There were just so many habits from his life as a captain, from his old life, that didn’t fit into this one, including his vocabulary, and he was having a hard time letting go of those habits. He ran an angry hand through his hair, tugging it out of place.
“I apologize, Mother,” he had said, defeated. “I am unfit for company.”
She let out a heavy sigh before relenting, saying, “You are the Duke of Ferndown now. You do not need my permission to do or not do anything. If you want to wait to announce your brother’s passing, that is fine. I only ask that you not wait too long. I am sure, I will want to see the sun again, eventually.”
That had been two weeks ago, and he still did not feel ready to face the ton as the Duke of Ferndown. He could hardly face society as a simple military man. He needed more time to scope out the field, gain insight into who these people were before he became one of them. Benjamin would spend as much of the season as possible learning his duties and reacclimating himself with high society while his mother grieved in the peace and quiet.
If he began to court Felicity, their plans could be thrown out the window. He doubted anyone would look favorably at the Diamond of the Season entertaining a former Captain in the British Army. Yet, even with all of the reasons he should do his best to forget about her, the first thing he did this morning was sit at his desk and write back to her. He convinced himself that she needed to know her apology was accepted as were her compliments. As for the rest of the letter, he wasn’t sure what prompted him.
There was something about her that made him do things he normally would stay as far away from as possible. In all of his time traveling, he had yet to find a woman who had lived in his thoughts. It was more than her physical beauty, and she was beautiful. Her hair looked like spun gold in the moonlight with the most mesmerizing green eyes that seemed to hold back a fire. No, it wasn’t just her appearance that appealed to Benjamin. There was something in the way she spoke and the way she held herself that spoke of her character. Even as upset as she had been, she had always been kind, dignified, and strong. He had meant it when he told her she was lovely.
It took Benjamin several attempts to write a complete letter, and evidence of his failed letters sat smoldering in the ashes. By the time Benjamin had finished one that he felt was good enough, the morning had almost passed. Before he thought better of it, Benjamin rang for a maid, sealed and addressed the note, and handed it off to the servant to be delivered. Almost as soon as the maid left the room with his letter, he regretted his choice. Just as he was about to call her back, so he could burn that letter too, his butler knocked on the door.
“Enter.”
Mr. Hillsdale, their butler, had yet to grow accustomed to Benjamin’s directness as was evident by the pinched expression on the older man’s face as he entered the room with a bow.
“Your Grace,” yet another thing Benjamin wasn’t used to, “the steward is here to see you. He is waiting in the drawing room.”
“The steward?”
“Yes, Your Grace, to go over the ledgers with you,” Mr. Hillsdale explained, none too patiently.
“Ah, yes, that. Show him in.”
And so, the letter and its recipient were forgotten. With a day full of meetings and paperwork, Benjamin found he didn’t have time to think about Felicity again until later that evening. It wasn’t until he walked into White’s, the gentlemen's club, that he began to wonder if she had gotten his letter, and if she would respond. Without the need to apologize, Benjamin hadn’t been sure what would fill his letters. Her reply had given him the hope that if he wrote again, she would respond again, so this time, he made sure to ask a handful of questions. Nothing too personal, just enough to solicit a reply. He was itching to know more about her.
“Ben! I was beginning to think you had forgotten about me,” a friendly voice called from the chairs in front of the fireplace.
“I do apologize, Nicholas. I was so caught up in the ledgers and books that I hadn’t realized the hour until I was already late.”
“Oh, that’s all right,” Nicholas lowered his voice and added, “I know the strain you are under.”
“I don’t know how you do this.” Benjamin told him, all but collapsing into his chair. “You make it look so… easy. Elijah did too. But this was never supposed to be my part to play, and I find I have no idea how to manage it all.”
“Hmm,” Nicholas ran a hand over his chin in thought before saying, “do you think it would be simpler if everyone knew about Elijah?”
Benjamin didn’t miss the way Nicholas’ voice tightened at his words. He was the only outsider who knew about Elijah’s death. Nicholas and Benjamin had been friends for ages. They had grown up together — he, Nicholas, and Elijah. The three had been inseparable. Nicholas fit perfectly in between the five-year age gap between Benjamin and Elijah, often coming up with the wildest plans and getting them all into trouble. He was known in society as Nicholas Owens, the Baron of Whiteshire, but to Benjamin, he was just a brother. The only one he had left now.
“No, I don’t. While I would never have kept something like this from you, I can’t imagine letting the rest of the world in.”
“I am glad you told me. You know, I will do anything I can to help you with this. We all feel just as lost and confused when we first inherit, even those of us who have been training to take on this job our entire lives.”
Nicholas’ words eased some of the tension in Benjamin. He settled himself further into the leather wingback chair next to Nicholas and ordered a drink. It had been another long day, and he needed a moment to decompress. Nicholas must have picked up on the fact that Benjamin was distracted over more than just his new title as he scrubbed a hand over his face.
“What else has you worked up, Ben?” Nicholas, aside from Elijah, had been the only person to call him Ben, and the nickname struck a chord of grief in him. “If I did not know you better, I might be inclined to think you are worked up over a woman.”
Benjamin barked out a harsh laugh before admitting, “I am worked up over a woman, Owens.”
His friend froze with his glass raised halfway to his mouth. It took him a moment to process what Benjamin had just said.
“I apologize, I do believe I misheard you,” Nicholas finally said with a bit of an incredulous tone. “You, Benjamin Chapman, committed bachelor, are fawning over a girl?”
“I am not fawning.”
“Who is this magical woman who has drawn your attention? Does she have two heads or three eyes or purple hair?” Nicholas teased, leaning across his seat to give Benjamin a playful shove. “Really, you must tell me.”