by Alyssa Drake
“Sammie.” Edward’s voice chased his sister’s retreating form. “I expect you to sleep in your chamber tonight, no more late-night library explorations.”
Miss Hastings paused. Benjamin could make out her grin in the flickering candlelight. “I have a prior agreement with Lord Westwood concerning my sleeping arrangements.”
“Which is?” asked Edward, annoyance creeping into his voice.
“Something that will be enforced this evening,” replied Benjamin.
“I will strike you again, Benjamin,” Edward warned with a withering glare.
“I have no doubt. However, until that happy occasion, shall we continue our discussion in my study?” He smiled.
Edward growled, snapping his jaw. Miss Hastings took advantage of Edward’s distraction and disappeared into the house, yanking Miss Randall along by her arm.
“What is wrong with your chamber? Is it haunted?” Miss Randall’s delicate voice queried faintly as Miss Larson shut the front door. Benjamin grinned, wondering how Miss Hastings would respond.
“Thomas Reid!”
The words echoed through the chilly air. A fury, approaching on foot, repeated the same yell again in a heavy brogue. Stomping through the grass, a ring of light appeared, a will-o-wisp rapidly flying across the meadow.
“Alana, come back. Now is not the occasion for your absurdity. Stop, Alana!” Aidan’s voice hissed faintly from the shadows.
“No, I will not wait a moment longer,” Alana replied. “Thomas has successfully avoided me for eight years, and I intend on ending that ridiculousness tonight.”
Thomas paled. “Benjamin, I…” His eyes darted to the stamping carriage horses, impatiently tugging at their harnesses.
Benjamin nodded once. Deftly, Thomas freed the closest horse and vaulted onto its back. Wrapping his hand tightly in the horse’s mane, he nudged its flanks. The horse reared on its hind legs, landed nimbly, and bolted with Thomas atop. He encouraged the horse into a full gallop, and within seconds, Thomas vanished in the darkness.
A moment later, Alana appeared, her blazing blue eyes glowed brightly. “Where is he, Benjamin?” she said, planting her fists on her hips, her unbound hair flying in all directions.
“Good evening, Alana,” Benjamin replied tightly. His eyes flickered over to Aidan who materialized—huffing—next to Alana.
“I could not stop her.” He panted, leaning forward on his knees to catch his breath.
“Do not apologize for me, Aidan.” Alana flashed, blue fire in her eyes.
“Alana!” She jumped, startled by Benjamin’s ire and turned to him, still ablaze. “A warning next time, Miss Flannery, if you please. We have experienced a tiresome evening, and your appearance only complicates matters.”
“Did you find him?” Aidan’s question floated quietly from his crouched position.
“No.” Benjamin grimaced. “We underestimated Morris. He assaulted Miss Hastings and Miss Randall at the masque several hours ago.”
“That is daring.” Aidan rose with a groan.
“Or desperate,” Benjamin replied. Aidan nodded in agreement.
“Alana, what can we do for you at this hour?” Edward addressed the spitfire quietly as she paced impatiently behind Aidan.
“I would like to speak with Thomas,” she replied, her tone softening considerably.
“As you can see, Thomas is not here,” said Benjamin, gesturing between Edward and himself.
She blew out an exasperated sigh, ruffling her auburn hair. “Have I missed him again?”
“You have.”
“I do not know what to do. He refuses to see me, returns my letters. I am driven mad by his indifference.” A note of hysteria colored her statement.
Benjamin glared coldly at her, clamping his jaw tightly. He wrestled with his desire to extract vengeance for Thomas, to shred Alana into a pool of tears. She shrank under his scrutiny, acutely aware of Benjamin’s internal struggle. He managed to hold his tongue—a difficult task—only undertaken for Thomas’ kind heart as he would deplore any mistreatment of Alana even in his own anguish. Instead, Benjamin glowered, sighed, and shook his head.
“You must speak with Mr. Reid on that private matter.” He spoke through clenched teeth.
“Benjamin,” Alana said, her eyes begged for forgiveness, for pity. “I never meant to hurt him. We were both so young.”
He refused to reply, biting his tongue until the taste of blood filled his mouth. Benjamin turned to Aidan and acknowledged him with a bow. “Aidan, I do not envy your troubles.”
“That particular feeling is mutual.” Aidan nodded, wrapping an arm around Alana’s shoulders.
Inclining his head, Benjamin conceded Aidan’s statement.
“Come, Alana, we must find Da.”
“Missing again?” asked Benjamin, his gaze hopping over the tree line behind Aidan.
“Hunting marauders. He raced out the kitchen door nearly an hour ago. We still cannot find him.” Aidan sighed.
Alana allowed her brother to drag her from the estate. She glanced over her shoulder, her pleading gaze finding Benjamin. He turned his back on her, wordlessly, trudging toward the veranda, trailed closely by Edward.
“Is Thomas returning any time soon?” asked Edward, climbing up the steps.
“No,” Benjamin replied.
“Do I need to understand what just happened?”
“No.”
“Should we be concerned about Thomas?”
Pausing on the veranda, Benjamin turned his dark gaze on Edward. “Definitely.”
“I would still like to discuss the sudden arrival of Miss Randall this evening,” Edward said.
“Certainly.” Benjamin sighed. “We can proceed without Thomas for a bit.”
“How long is a bit?”
“It depends upon the horse.” Benjamin shrugged and continued into the house.
Once they reached the study door, Benjamin ushered Edward inside and pulled the door behind him, ensuring their conversation was muted from the rest of the household. Gesturing to one of the available armchairs, Edward gratefully sank into its plush cushion.
“Some refreshment?” asked Benjamin, gesturing to a crystal decanter on the edge of his desk—unobtrusively left by Mr. Davis.
Edward nodded, closing his eyes with a heavy sigh. As Benjamin lifted the decanter off the silver tray, a handwritten note dropped from the base of the carafe. One word was scrawled on the slip of paper—London. Quickly Benjamin secreted the missive into his coat pocket and set a half-full glass near Edward’s hand.
Edward accepted the glass of brandy offered and sipped it pensively as he watched the flames dance in the fireplace. After a moment, he pressed his fingertips against his eyes, rubbing them in frustration. Residing in the opposite chair, Benjamin waited patiently for Edward to gather his mind, taking a long swallow from his snifter.
“How long does Miss Randall intend to visit?” Edward dropped his hand. His eyes—circled by fatigue—held an unasked question.
“Indefinitely,” replied Benjamin, chasing the statement with another sip of brandy.
“Is her sudden desire for country living due to the incident in the maze with Franklin this evening?”
“It is one of the reasons,” Benjamin said. He thought of Miss Hastings, warm and snuggled in his bed—waiting—and wondered how much of this necessary conversation could be postponed until later that morning.
“Have you spoken with her aunt and uncle regarding her current whereabouts?”
“I have not had the opportunity. They are missing.”
Edward raised an eyebrow, assessing Benjamin’s somber mood. “Do you think they are still alive?”
“Morris called upon Mr. and Mrs. Pierce earlier this evening. He chose to make a second stop at Miss Randall’s cottage, but she was not at home, having already left for the masque. He left explicit instructions for the housemaid to inform Miss Randall thus.”
“I assume the ladies’ maid was the slight
girl who followed Miss Randall into the house.” Edward took a sip from his glass.
“She is.”
“I would like to question her as well.”
“You may,” Benjamin replied, setting his glass on the desk. “However, I doubt you will learn much more than we did.”
A deep sigh escaped Edward. He held the snifter against his forehead, an attempt to stave off the impending headache. “The hour is much too late to think clearly,” he said. “I suppose your explanation for your disappearance over the past few days is also a convoluted tale?”
Benjamin half-smiled, nodding. “It is.”
“I propose we discuss these matters tomorrow. I cannot reason properly at this hour.”
“Agreed.” Benjamin lifted his glass and swallowed the rest of his drink. A dull thump from the ceiling caught his attention. He grinned. Miss Hastings was out of bed and moving through the upstairs hallway. He wondered if Edward would realize the origin of the sound.
After a moment, a discernible squeak echoed through the silent house. Edward’s head snapped up, and he caught Benjamin’s fleeting grin. Edward’s eyes flew to the closed door, suspicion radiating from him. He pressed a finger against his lips and slipped over to the study portal.
“Samantha, so help me if you are in that hallway…” Edward ripped open the door. Shadows greeted him. Edward stuck his head into the hallway, glancing to his left and right.
“Are you satisfied?” asked Benjamin from his seated position, his arms crossed in amusement.
“Hardly,” replied Edward from the doorway, a surly glare on his face. “You may jest about my protective nature—yes I know what Samantha says about me—but you have not known her as long as I. She attracts…” Edward paused, his eyes roved over Benjamin’s countenance. “…trouble.”
“What are you driving at Edward?” Benjamin growled. He rose and crossed the room in two giant steps, his eyes narrowed.
Edward sighed heavily, turning his full body toward Benjamin. Pinching the bridge of his nose, Edward exhaled again. He opened his mouth twice, each time hesitating, then spoke. “I have known you many years, Benjamin. I know all your faults, your weaknesses, and your scandals. I know—like Thomas—you detest the confines of marriage.”
“I am still waiting for your point Edward,” said Benjamin, his voice dangerously quiet.
“Sammie needs someone to watch over her, to guide her in the proper direction. She is young, impulsive, and headstrong—a challenge in all respects. She is also extremely naïve.” Edward paused, debating the question. “Are you positive you are the best man for her, Benjamin?”
“I have risked my life and my family’s lives for your sister—the woman I love,” Benjamin replied, his fingers twitched, closing into half-fists. “What are you questioning? My devotion or my ability to provide for your sister?”
Edward forcibly bit his tongue. He approached Benjamin slowly, his blue eyes burning intensely as he roughly gripped Benjamin’s shoulder. “You are my closest friend, a brother in all respects, but you have no idea what this household was like when you vanished on your wild adventure. The screams…” Edward shuddered, his mind on the past “I realize you had reason, but I cannot bear Sammie’s agony a second time. If you cause one more ounce of pain, I will personally make her a widow.”
“Understood,” Benjamin replied, twisting out of Edward’s grasp. “Is there anything else you wish to discuss?”
Edward glared at Benjamin. “You were never my choice for a suitor.”
“Your objections were previously noted,” Benjamin replied. “You revealed them many years ago.”
“My basis for protest has not changed.”
“Ephraim recanted his doubt.”
Edward’s mouth dropped open. “How did you know?”
Benjamin smirked. “He wrote me—before he passed—and stated he misjudged the relationship between Miss Hastings and me, his decision based solely on your testimony.”
Edward glanced toward the ceiling. “I found her journal, the spring I took Wilhelmina to meet Sammie. She confessed her attraction for you—an entire page inscribed with Lady Samantha Westwood. I did not know what to do. It was only a matter of time before I needed to intervene. She is extremely persistent—once she set her mind to you, I would be unable to dissuade it. Yes, I told Ephraim my concerns. He played the role of enforcer as I could not. I could never say no to Samantha. How could I after all the tragedy she endured?”
“Instead you hid behind your great-uncle.” Benjamin’s accusation vibrated off the walls of the study.
“He was a much better guardian than I. I made a mess of Sammie’s education. She will never fit into society. The least I could do was to protect her from scoundrels like you.”
“Your opinion of me was wanting. Your sister was a twelve-year-old. I would never seduce a child,” Benjamin spat, livid at Edward’s allegation.
“No, but what about a fifteen-year-old? Three years is a long time for Samantha to nurture an attachment.”
“You seem stuck on the idea I could not control myself.”
“Can you?”
Benjamin glared at him.
“She changed you, I noticed a difference in your attitude.”
“How so?” snarled Benjamin.
“Two years of correspondence? Two years Benjamin! The man who refused to commit to any girl wrote my sister for two years.” Edward threw his hands in the air, pacing toward the door.
“She needed someone to listen to her.” Benjamin lowered his voice.
“She should have talked to me,” said Edward, spinning around.
“Edward, think back to that particular period of time. You were in a dark place. Those months after her accident—you blamed yourself. I used to carry you home in the early morning hours, incoherent, bloodied, and broken. How many times did you wake up on the floor in your own vomit?”
Edward’s shoulders bowed. “There is not much I remember from that portion of my past. When I came to my senses…”
“When you met your lovely wife,” said Benjamin with a small smile.
Edward nodded. “I realized your influence over Samantha was greater than I originally believed.”
Benjamin stared at Edward in confusion. “I did nothing to coerce Miss Hastings. What influence did I possess?”
“Sammie started wearing dresses.”
“That was the basis for your overreaction?” Benjamin snorted.
“Yes. I noticed other minute changes as well. However, when I read her journal, I knew it was time to separate you.”
“Without speaking to me first about your concerns?” Benjamin yelled, slamming his empty glass on a nearby table. “We were friends. You should have come to me.”
“At the time, you were an unsuitable companion, no discussion was warranted.” Edward crossed his arms over his chest.
“I am a different man,” Benjamin gestured to the both of them, “as are you. That particular moniker no longer applies to either of us.”
“I should have left her in the country,” Edward grumbled and shook his head. “She would be far less trouble.”
“She would be dead,” said Benjamin. Edward flinched, then grimaced, accepting Benjamin’s argument. Benjamin placed his hand on Edward’s shoulder. “Do you still object to my influence?”
“A part of me will always resist the idea of the two of you together,” said Edward.
“Would you prefer I end the engagement and break her heart?”
Edward’s eyes burst from his head. “I do not care what it costs you Benjamin. You will make her happy.”
“I already do.” Benjamin grinned wickedly.
“Good night, Benjamin.” Edward stalked from the room. He moved to slam the study door, but Benjamin blocked it with his boot. Growling, Edward stomped down the hallway and paused next to the library door, his fingertips resting on the doorknob.
Benjamin ventured into the corridor, observing Edward’s internal debate with delight. Q
uickly, Edward shoved open the library door. A lonely fire crackled in the gate. Edward glanced back at Benjamin, his irritation seeping slowly into the floor. “She listened for once.”
“Good night, Edward.” Benjamin turned toward his study.
“Working late tonight?” asked Edward civilly, attempting to smooth over the quarrel he initiated.
“I have some urgent business which requires my attention, unless you prefer I spend the evening ensuring your sister remains in her chamber.” Benjamin cocked his head and smiled.
Edward choked and purpled. Spinning around, without a word, he marched upstairs.
Benjamin listened for the slam of Edward’s chamber door. Slipping down the hallway and into the library, Benjamin gently pushed the door until it caught the latch. Padding to the center of the room, he cleared his throat, his eyes searching amusingly over the room.
“Come out, Miss Hastings.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
An exasperated grunt emanated from one of the far curtains. Sam peeked out from behind the cloth and frowned at him. “How did you know I was in here?”
Lord Westwood pursed his lips, sternly striding over to the window, his fingers closing around the drape. “I believe the agreement was you would be sleeping in your bedchamber this evening.”
“I am not dressed for bed,” she said, gesturing to her dress.
“That is true,” he replied, his face bursting into a giant grin. He slipped his arms around her waist, drawing her close, brushing his lips across her mouth.
She pulled away, panting. “Was it necessary to antagonize Edward?”
Lord Westwood shook his head and laughed. “How much of the conversation did you hear?”
“Everything,” Sam shrugged, “once Edward opened the door.”
“I see.” Lord Westwood leaned forward whispering, his eyebrows raised in an exaggerated fashion. “A full page of Lady Samantha Westwood?”
Sam blushed, staring at her shoes. “Journals are supposed to be private.”
“Are you still angry with me for not writing you back?”
“No.” Her head rose to meet his gaze. “I forgive you. Edward, however, has some retribution due.”