Chasing Benedict (The Gentleman Courtesans Book 5)

by Victoria Vale

  Hodge’s nostrils flared at the high-handed command, but Alex gave the butler a covert nod of approval.

  “As you wish,” Hodge said to Ben before addressing Alex. “A light luncheon has been prepared, and hot baths can be drawn at a moment’s notice.”

  “Lunch first, I think,” Alex replied as he and Ben entered the house to be greeted by footmen who divested them of hats and greatcoats. “It’s been a long day … I’m famished.”

  Hodge bustled off to execute Alex’s instructions, leaving him in the entrance hall with Ben, who was inspecting his surroundings with a guarded eye. While Ben had visited his family’s townhouse in Mayfair, he had never stepped foot inside this house. Alex had imagined him here so many times—treading the corridors with heavy footsteps, riding horses across the grounds, lounging in the library … sleeping in his bed. His throat grew tight as he absorbed a fantasy come to fruition, but under the worst of circumstances. It was his hope to convince Ben never to leave; a task that currently seemed as impossible as taking the blazing sun into his hands.

  “The dining room is this way,” Alex said, guiding Ben toward the corridor on the left. “Your things are being delivered to my chambers and accommodations are already prepared for your valet.”

  Ben’s footsteps faltered just shy of the dining room doors. “Your chambers?”

  Alex grinned. “Well, of course. This entire arrangement is about you being in my bed, isn’t it?”

  “To fuck you,” Ben said, arms crossed over his chest. “Not to sleep.”

  “It’s been years, Ben. I’m not going to be satisfied with you slinking across the corridor when you’re finished with me.”

  “I have to assume your staff is discreet, otherwise you would never have brought me here.”

  “Of course. Discreet and loyal.”

  Ben stared at him with silent accusation in his eyes, as if Alex had somehow swindled him into something he hadn’t agreed to. Truthfully, he’d expected Ben to balk at the suggested sleeping arrangements but had decided it was worth a try.

  One that paid off, handily.

  “Fine,” Ben huffed. “But I want the left side of the bed.”

  “Naturally. I’ve always preferred the right, anyway.”

  Ben glowered at Alex as if suspicious of his claim, but gave a grudging nod before sweeping a hand to indicate Alex should precede him. Alex couldn’t help a sly smile as he led the way. It was a small victory, but after Ben surprised him by bringing his boxing master along, Alex was due.

  Inside the dining room, footmen were busy arranging dishes on the table between place settings—one of which was hastily being added for Mr. Fisher.

  “Does he know?” Alex asked before the man could impose on them with his presence.

  “No,” Ben replied, without needing to ask what Alex referred to. “And I’d like to keep it that way.”

  “Of course.”

  Fisher entered the room just as they seated themselves—Alex at the head of the table and Ben to his right. Fisher took the place to his left.

  “I’m grateful to you for allowing an old man to impose on your hospitality, my lord,” Fisher said while eying the various dishes laid out for them.

  “Think nothing of it, Mr. Fisher,” Alex replied. “I want your time here to be enjoyable, so if you need anything, alert any member of my staff, and you will be accommodated.”

  “While we’re on the subject,” Fisher said while piling several finger sandwiches onto his plate. “Mr. Sterling will be on a strict diet during his time in the country. No fancy French foods or heavy sauces. No desserts. No wine, beer, ale, or spirits.”

  Alex’s lips quivered at the low, pained sound Ben made in the back of his throat, but kept his attention on Fisher. “I see. Anything else?”

  “Beefsteak and eggs for breakfast,” Fisher replied, adding a cluster of grapes and a handful of lemon tartlets to his plate. “Or ham and eggs. Coffee is to be taken black, no cream or sugar.”

  “For the love of Christ,” Ben grumbled.

  Ignoring him, Fisher pointed his fork at Alex. “And … a mixture of water, salt, and oats three times a day. Pugilists gruel … good for the muscles and the bowels.”

  “Fisher, I hardly think the earl wishes to discuss my bowels over his meal,” Ben griped while serving himself from a dish of cold meats and cheeses.

  “Oh, let the man speak freely, Ben,” Alex said. “It’s all very interesting. So, this mixture of oats … does he eat them with a spoon or suck them down like a glass of milk?”

  “I’m going to kill you,” Ben whispered, stabbing viciously at a grape with his fork. “Slowly. Painfully.”

  Alex laughed him off and continued peppering Mr. Fisher with questions about Ben’s training regimen—which he truly did find interesting. Ben had always been a fighter, and Alex had witnessed several informal brawls like the one at The White Cock. What he really wanted to witness was a legitimate pugilist match—Ben testing his strength and skill against someone trained, just like him, to wreak havoc with his fists. Perhaps he could attend this upcoming fight Ben had mentioned.

  After an hour of listening to Fisher’s plans for Ben over the next four weeks, while Ben sulked over his food, they parted ways to wash the dust of travel away. Fisher informed Ben that he would have the rest of the day for a respite, but was expected to report to the gallery for training at dawn and no later. With that, Fisher ambled off in the company of a footman to his guest chamber. Alex led Ben upstairs to his own rooms, pleased to find that the promised bath had been drawn in the washroom. Ben’s toilette items had been neatly arranged beside his on the washstand, and a small trunk rested on the bench at the foot of Alex’s bed.

  Ben stood in the midst of the room, taking in the chamber’s colorful decor—the furnishings and bedding coordinated to match the magenta, gold, and royal blue pattern of the Chinese wallpaper.

  “Why am I not surprised?” Ben muttered, toying with one of the gold cords tying back the bed curtains. “Decorated yourself, did you?”

  Alex hesitated only a moment before replying, for he couldn’t continue to dance around the subject of his marriage. He had brought Ben here to reveal the truth, and could start by edging closer to the massive elephant in the room. “I didn’t do it alone. Katherine had a keen eye for colors and fabrics—it was one of the things we had in common. She chose the furnishings, and sent for the fabrics to upholster the chairs so they matched the curtains.”

  Registering Ben’s disdainful expression, Alex rushed on before he could make some degrading remark about Katherine.

  “I understand that the subject of my marriage is a sore one between us,” he said. “But I’ll not tolerate any disrespect toward her under this roof. There is so much for me to tell you, but I’ll begin with this … Katherine was a dear friend, and my memories of her are important to me. I cannot put that aside just because I’ve brought you here.”

  Ben didn’t offer a verbal reply, but a quick nod of acquiescence proved to be enough.

  Alex decided to let matters lie for now. They’d had a long, trying few days , and he had another resident of the house to visit before he could make himself more comfortable. “Help yourself to the bath. I have something to see to, but I’ll return shortly. There’s a library three doors down from the dining room—on the left. But there are books in the attached drawing room, through that door. Or you could explore the house. The third floor is in a bit of a shambles … renovations that won’t be completed until spring. I wouldn’t suggest going up there. But the rest of the house is yours. I want you to be comfortable here.”

  Ben leaned against a bedpost and gave him a knowing look. “As comfortable as one can be in the home his former lover shared with his wife.”

  Alex issued a weary sigh, in no mood to verbally spar with Ben right now. “You never seem to have trouble making space for yourself anywhere. I’m sure you’ll do so here, as well. I’ll return soon.”

  Without waiting for a response
, Alex fled the room, his steps hurried as he made for the stairs. His heart was in his throat as he made his way to the third floor, a bitter taste flooding his mouth at the lie he’d just told Ben. However, if his memories of Katherine were precious, then this final secret was even more so. Ben didn’t trust him enough to forgive him yet, and Alex could well understand that. As much as he loved Ben, Alex wasn’t certain he could trust him to accept what he was keeping hidden on this floor of the house—albeit temporarily.

  He breathed a bit easier as he trotted down a corridor with windows on one side overlooking the back lawn. Alex didn’t relish having to divide his time between the two loves of his life, but it was a necessary precaution for the time being.

  He knocked before entering, not wanting to intrude on the nurse if she was busy with a feeding. A soft voice bade him enter, and Alex stepped into the nursery. Cheery tones of canary yellow and soft pink enveloped him, and the gurgles and coos of the babe seated in the nurse’s lap brought a smile to his face.

  “Welcome home, my lord,” said Rosalind, the nurse who had been caring for the babe since the day of her birth. “This one must have sensed you were near. She’s in a wonderful mood, just cooing and singing her little heart out.”

  Alex accepted the muslin and lace bundle of his daughter from the nurse, who stood back and looked on with tender fondness. “Thank you, Rosalind. I’d like some time alone with her. I’ll put her down for her nap.”

  “Of course, my lord. Ring if you need me.”

  The nurse was gone after a hasty cursy, leaving Alex to take up her abandoned place in the chair. Settling the six-month-old girl on his knee, Alex took stock of what he and Katherine had created—not out of love, but out of a need to at least attempt to fulfill their duties as an earl and a countess.

  Alex had pushed aside all desires for fatherhood ages ago. A man needed to bed a woman to create a child, and Alex had never experienced the desire to do so. Even his forced marriage to Katherine hadn’t changed his mind right off. It was Katherine who had convinced him to try.

  “You need an heir,” she had said to him over dinner one evening. “And I want … Oh, Alex, I want to be a mother like I’ve never wanted anything in my life. I know you are not … fond of me in that way, but … could we try? Just until I conceive?”

  Alex had been helpless to refuse her. Katherine had sacrificed just as much as Alex in their union. She would never know the true love of a husband, never experience real and deep passion. Her husband was incapable of giving her any of it. But, he wasn’t incapable of siring a child.

  So, after two years of celibacy, he had gone to Katherine’s bed and done his best to impregnate her, if not please her. It had been difficult for them both, with Katherine feeling guilty for coercing Alex into such an agreement, and Alex hating himself for being unable to throw himself wholeheartedly into the endeavor. Their only hope for putting an end to it and entering the next phase of their lives was to conceive. After a few months of trying and doing their best not to speak of what went on in her bedchamber each night, their efforts had paid off.

  Nine months later, Lady Isabella Harriette Osborne was born—bright-eyed and rosy-cheeked, with a fine fuzz of blonde down matching her mother’s locks. Katherine had worried that Alex would be disappointed in her for birthing a girl, but Alex had never fallen so rapidly in love. One look at his daughter, and he decided that all the nights of trying to conceive had been worth it.

  “She’s perfect,” he told Katherine while holding Isabella for the first time. “I don’t need an heir. I just want her.”

  Katherine smiled up at him from her bed, dressed in a clean nightgown but still glistening with sweat. She had then promptly fallen asleep. She awakened only twice after that, so weak from childbirth that she couldn’t even hold the babe to her breast without assistance.

  She had lost too much blood, the doctor informed Alex as he stood over the body of his dead wife, stunned beyond reason. Something had gone wrong … there was nothing anyone could have done … her soul was in the care of God now.

  None of it offered him solace. He had wanted to give Katherine her heart’s desire, because there was so much he could never offer. In the process, he’d sent her to her grave.

  Isabella sputtered and murmured unintelligibly while pulling at one of his waistcoat buttons, her tiny chin slick with drool. Alex smiled at her, finding it impossible to remain morose with his daughter being so adorably charming.

  “How I missed you, little Ella,” he said, reaching out to smooth a golden cowlick over her brow. It sprung right back up, making Alex chuckle. “I’ve brought someone here to meet you, but I don’t think he’s ready just yet. Soon, I hope. You’ll love him, Ella. You’ll love him as much as I do.”

  Isabella went on fumbling at his buttons, one fist in her mouth as she sucked and chewed. A new tooth would soon make an appearance, a mate for the one that had come in just before he’d left for London.

  “Am I foolish for needing you both?” he asked Isabella, who had discovered his watch chain and busied herself trying to find what it led to inside his fob pocket. “I am a fool, aren’t I, Ella?”

  His daughter simply grunted, chubby fingers rooting at the edge of his waistcoat pocket, brow furrowed in concentration. Alex sighed and pulled the watch free, offering it to her. Isabella grinned before fitting the watch into her mouth and gnawing at it with swollen gums.

  Perhaps he was a fool to think he could win Ben back and hope he would accept that Isabella came along in the bargain. Knowing how furious he was with Alex for marrying Katherine, Ben was sure to be thoroughly disgusted by a child created of that marriage. He would have a difficult enough time explaining how Isabella had come to be, and that was only the beginning. There were still other secrets to be revealed, and Alex hardly knew where to begin now that Ben was here.

  Chapter 8

  “The Hon. Mr. L has been seen more frequently about Town of late. This author is proud of him for holding his head high after being jilted at the altar by that half-caste termagant, now known as Lady B. Perhaps the gentleman will try again to secure a bride.”

  -The London Gossip, 30 January 1820

  When Alex returned to his bedchamber, he found Ben lounging on his bed, half-dressed with his hair still glistening from a wash. The sweet euphoria of time spent with his daughter was overwhelmed by a different sensation, one that stole the breath from his lungs. Ben wore only trousers and a shirt, which he’d left open to reveal the wide swath of his chest and that alluring mat of thick, curling blond hair. His feet were bare, and his sleeves rolled back as he lounged in casual repose, an open book laid before him.

  Alex’s legs were unsteady as he approached, nerves and excitement getting the best of him at once. He wanted Ben with the intensity of years of starvation and longing, but knew he walked a perilous line here. They were in danger of becoming so caught up in physical pleasures that the weight of reality was forgotten.

  Clearing his throat, Alex glanced to the washroom, deciding he could at least bathe before trying to pull Ben into conversation. While soaking, perhaps he could settle on the first of many subjects to be broached between them.

  He drew closer to the washroom with a frown, noticing that the water was still clear and unused. However, the washstand basin had been utilized, and several damp linens were piled in the corner.

  “You could have used the tub, you know,” he said, turning back to face Ben. “I would have simply used your water and called for the footmen to reheat.”

  “I prefer shower-baths,” Ben replied without looking up from his book. “Honestly, Alex, with all the money you’ve inherited, one would think you might have installed one by now. Every fashionable home in London has one.”

  Alex wrinkled his nose. “I’ve tried shower-baths. The water cools too fast.”

  “Cold water is bracing and good for the body.”

  “Right,” Alex muttered with a shake of his head.

  Pulling the bell
cord to ring for his valet, he entered the washroom to test the unused water. It was still adequately warm, so he had no need to send for fresh water. Annoyance lanced through him as he observed the linens haphazardly discarded near the washstand. He could only assume this small rebellion was yet another way for Ben to needle him. His behavior made no sense otherwise. Who didn’t enjoy a hot bath?

  Alex pushed the bizarre conversation out of his mind as his valet arrived to help him disrobe. Through the open door he caught sight of Ben, who had stopped reading to watch as the layers of Alex’s clothes fell away. His skin broke out in gooseflesh at the slow trajectory of Ben’s gaze over every inch of his skin as it was bared. Ben’s eyes missed nothing, lingering in places that made Alex flush and fight not to squirm. When their gazes met, Ben’s unspoken promises sent blood rushing to Alex’s groin, prompting him quickly into the tub. The sooner he washed, the sooner he could climb into that bed with Ben.

  With a groan, he let his head fall against the lip of the tub. He was so weak. It had only taken a lingering glance from Ben to make him forget that he’d resolved to have a conversation first.

  “Is the water not to your liking, my lord?” his valet asked, hovering near the tub with a knit brow.

  “The water is fine, Hammond. You may take your leave. I’ll see to myself.”

  Hammond, who had been sweethearts with one of the footmen for the past five years, hardly batted an eyelash at leaving his naked master alone with Ben. He was fortunate to have a trustworthy staff and a place to bring Ben where they could act freely with one another. It had been his greatest wish during their university days, as he’d wearied of sneaking about to find places where they were safe to express their affections.

  Alex had begun washing when the sound of Ben’s footsteps signaled his approach. He held something in his hand, his eyes radiating purpose and mischief. Alex sat up straight, eyes going wide as Ben crouched, bracing his arms on the edge of the tub and holding up the shining silver object. The plug was the size and shape of a small lemon, its base wide and flat. His cock twitched as he inspected it, his anus contracting in anticipation of where Ben intended to put it.