A Perfect Plan

by Alyssa Drake

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Benjamin slid his hand along Miss Hastings’ arm, his fingers brushing against the bare skin, which warmed instantly under his touch. The action elicited a tremor from her. Benjamin could not help the smile that curved his lips—she responded as if she were created just for him.

  “My brother would not appreciate it if you ravished me on the dance floor,” murmured Miss Hastings, her eyes still half closed from his tantalizing caress.

  “Perhaps not,” responded Benjamin with a grin. “However, I would.”

  Benjamin’s fingers continued to stroke a discreet, blazing a trail along the inside of her arm. He brushed against something hard she clutched tightly in her left hand. Her father’s watch, wrapped in its silk handkerchief, peeked out from her fist.

  “Would you like me to keep that for you?” he suggested, leaning much closer than necessary. The aroma of honeysuckle assaulted his senses. He inhaled the intoxicating scent with a sigh.

  Miss Hastings lifted her head, her luminous eyes glowing deep sapphire. “Yes, thank you.”

  Benjamin delicately extracted the watch from her hand and placed it securely in his jacket pocket. He noticed she followed his movement carefully, her eyes hesitating a moment on his pocket before returning to his face.

  “Miss Hastings, since your brother and his wife will be joining us shortly, perhaps we should have one dance before the official engagement announcement is made.”

  Without waiting for an answer, he spun Miss Hastings in a lazy circle, joining the other dancers in the center of the room. His eyes sought out Thomas who remained on the fringes, conversing with Mr. Mason. Benjamin suspected Thomas was talking to him in order to avoid being ushered onto the dance floor by their mother who hovered impatiently near them. Thomas glanced up and winked, confirming Benjamin’s suspicions.

  When Edward and Mrs. Hastings re-entered the ballroom, Mr. Leveret interrupted the string quartet, gesturing for everyone to be silent. Standing on the dais, he raised his glass toward Edward with a solemn expression.

  “Mr. Hastings, two years ago, we were forced to accept the heartbreaking news of your passing. Today, I am grateful to discover that information was inaccurate. Barring the minor heart palpitations you afforded me this evening by your sudden reappearance, I am thoroughly pleased to see you again. I wish you and your family a long and happy life together.”

  A growing sound of “here, here” filled the room as the other guests echoed his sentiments, raising their glasses in kind. Benjamin glanced around the room furtively, watching everyone’s reactions. Not one person seemed genuinely distressed to see Edward standing–very much alive–at the edge of the dais. Edward stood patiently at the front of the room as Mr. Leveret continued his long-winded speech.

  Benjamin considered the people milling around him—a few family members, mostly friends. Was one of their friends capable of cold-blooded murder? What was the original motive behind the death of Mr. Matthew Hastings? He re-examined their faces cautiously. What did a killer look like?

  Thomas caught Benjamin’s eye and shrugged. Obviously, Thomas was having the same issue. They would be forced to wait until the murderer decided to make another move. Edward was the obvious target, but what about the rest of his family? Benjamin’s arm tightened around Samantha’s waist. She sighed unconsciously and leaned into him, listening intently to Mr. Leveret drone on about the importance of life.

  “Speech,” someone yelled from over Benjamin’s shoulder. He turned in the direction of the voice. Mr. Mason smirked.

  Edward smiled, still holding his wife’s hand and stepped up on the platform next to Mr. Leveret. “Thank you for your kind words.”

  “Welcome home.” Mr. Leveret embraced him and stepped off the dais.

  “My friends,” Edward’s deep voice echoed through the room. “Thank you for your loving reception. Had I known how much you all cared, I would have returned home months ago.”

  Laughter rolled across the floor. If only they knew the truth behind those words, Benjamin mused with a smirk.

  “I wish to thank everyone for their support this evening on such a happy occasion. I also wish to make an announcement. A joyful occasion this is indeed, as my sister, the lovely Miss Samantha Hastings, has agreed to accept Lord Westwood’s proposal of marriage.”

  The room burst into applause. Several people nearby turned to offer their congratulations. Miss Hastings, obviously embarrassed by the attention, blushed scarlet, the hue almost matching her dress. Benjamin tightened his grip around her waist. She looked up at him with a grateful smile.

  “Too late to back out now,” he murmured with a wink.

  “I wonder how many people will assume the wedding is because I am pregnant,” muttered Miss Hastings, an annoyed scowl decorated her face.

  Benjamin tipped her chin until she looked directly into his eyes. “It does not matter what they think. What matters is what you think. It is not too late to change your mind. Is this what you really want?”

  He paused, allowing her the opportunity to mull over his question. An internal struggle warred within him between his own selfish desires and his need to protect her. He had never considered his reputation would cause her any distress. However, he should have, he knew the viciousness of society ladies and their gossip.

  “Yes,” answered Miss Hastings.

  Benjamin exhaled slowly. “Then let them talk. Our engagement period will be long enough to dispel any malicious rumors.”

  “Benjamin,” her soft voice floated up hesitantly. “Is this really what you want?”

  He stared at her incredulously. Did she not understand the effect she had on him? He longed to caress her, to pull her against him and remove any doubt clouding her judgment. Desire crawled into his mind, demanding satisfaction. He leaned in, inhaling her hypnotizing scent once again.

  “You are what I want, and when I finally get you alone, I will show you just how much.”

  “Mr. Reid,” Miss Hastings admonished in a flustered voice, glancing around at the people closest to them. She flushed deeply, the color traveling below the décolletage of her dress.

  “Lord,” he reminded her with a grin, his eyes following the trail of her blush.

  “Lord,” she mimicked in a childish tone.

  “Miss Hastings, are you feeling a little warm? Perhaps you would like to take a turn about the terrace?” Benjamin suggested, his voice rumbling mischievously. “There is a beautiful moon out this evening.”

  “Lord Westwood, I was specifically instructed by my guardian not to take moonlight strolls with any gentlemen.”

  “Then you are in luck, Miss Hastings because I am not a gentleman.” Benjamin winked, slipping his hand under Miss Hastings’ elbow and steering her toward the exit.

  “Miss Hastings.” The nasal voice emanating from the heavily perfumed woman blocking their path caused Miss Hastings to groan under her breath. Mrs. Pierce, a woman who delighted in making other people feel inferior, vibrated with malice.

  “I was just saying to Charlotte how pleased I was to hear you managed to trap yourself a husband. Surely, you must have some significant powers of seduction to entice Lord Westwood away from my niece.” Mrs. Pierce waved vaguely, her snobby tone scraping against Benjamin’s ears.

  Miss Hastings bristled slightly at the accusation, but her tone did not betray her anger. “Mrs. Pierce, thank you for your kind sentiments. However, I must disagree with your assessment, as I could never imagine possessing the capability to steal away any suitor from someone as lovely as Miss Shirely.”

  “Indeed,” answered Mrs. Pierce, her hate-filled eyes traveling the length of Miss Hastings’ crimson dress.

  Fighting the urge to wrap a protective arm around Miss Hastings, Benjamin murmured quietly in her ear. “I think you underestimate your abilities.”

  She flushed, to his great delight. However, she quickly regained her composure. “Mrs. Pierce, Miss Randall, may I present my fiancé, Lord Westwood?”
<
br />   “Mrs. Pierce,” he greeted the woman coolly, his annoyance of her treatment of Miss Hastings apparent. However, his tone brightened considerably when he addressed the girl waiting patiently beside Mrs. Pierce. “Miss Randall, I am pleased to make your acquaintance.”

  He remembered the rumors surrounding Miss Charlotte Randall’s unfortunate upbringing. Her mother, the youngest of the three Randall sisters, was considered the catch of the season. Her exceptional beauty was complimented by her remarkable eye color, a magnificent shade of violet. Much to the chagrin of her family, she eloped with an unknown gentleman. Although gentleman was probably not the correct moniker for the scoundrel, Benjamin thought wryly. Miss Della Randall returned several months later, alone and very pregnant. She died during childbirth, leaving her orphaned daughter to be shuttled around the family–an unwanted burden. Miss Randall inherited her mother’s coloring, including her striking eyes.

  In the end, Miss Randall found a home with Mrs. Pierce, the oldest Randall sister, who begrudgingly agreed to house her niece since she found herself barren. Mr. Pierce, a gentle man, loved his niece as much as if she were his own child. Mrs. Pierce, on the other hand, resented the girl and subsequently showed her displeasure as frequently as possible.

  Everything changed three seasons ago. Miss Randall inherited a considerable sum of money from a mysterious benefactor. Her uncle agreed to manage her funds until she took a husband. However, Miss Randall seemed in no hurry to bind herself to any man. Financial freedom afforded her the ability to be independent. Mrs. Pierce radiated a thinly concealed jealously over her niece’s sudden wealth. Tonight’s appearance at the Leveret’s ball was a rare occurrence indeed since she never accompanied her aunt to any social function.

  “Lord Westwood, the pleasure is mine,” Miss Randall answered in a sweet voice before Mrs. Pierce stepped directly in front of her, preventing any further conversation.

  “Lord Westwood, you are even more handsome in person,” Mrs. Pierce simpered, a sycophantic expression plastered across her pinched face. She extended a gloved hand grandly while fanning herself vigorously with the other. “From the moment I met Miss Hastings, I have always held a soft spot for her, and I have tried to guide her as her mother would have, had she still been alive.”

  Benjamin grasped her hand lightly, his lips brushing the barest of kisses across the silky material. “I had no idea that you were so closely acquainted with my fiancée.”

  “Oh yes,” responded Mrs. Pierce winningly. “I had the pleasure of meeting her at a luncheon I hosted several weeks ago. She was the talk of the party.”

  Benjamin raised his eyebrows, turning his attention to Miss Hastings. “I am pleased to hear you were so well liked.”

  Mrs. Pierce snorted. Suddenly her mouth carved into a vicious smile. “Miss Hastings, I almost forgot to tell you, Bernard sends his regards.”

  The daggers shooting from Miss Hastings’ eyes would have reduced any normal person to tears. Benjamin wondered how long her internal struggle would continue before she loosened her tongue on the wretched woman gloating in front of her.

  “Aunt Hattie,” Charlotte interrupted quietly.

  “Charlotte, do not disturb me when I am speaking to your superiors,” admonished Mrs. Pierce, barely glancing at the girl.

  “Aunt Lillian is waving.”

  Mrs. Pierce’s head shot up so fast, Benjamin expected it to fly off her shoulders. She waved dramatically across the room at Mrs. Shirely. “Please excuse me. I must see to my sister.”

  Without another word, Mrs. Pierce shoved through the nearest couple waltzing on the dance floor and rushed to the group now surrounding Mrs. Shirely. Benjamin, who never struck a woman in his life, seriously considered changing that fact as he watched Mrs. Pierce barrel her way toward Mrs. Shirely.

  Miss Randall sighed, turning her unusual violet eyes toward Miss Hastings. “Miss Hastings, please forgive my aunt for her disrespectful display of manners.”

  “Of course,” Miss Hastings replied warmly. “I was hoping to see you again. We had such a lovely afternoon together at the luncheon.”

  Miss Randall laughed, the sound similar to a light tinkling of bells. “Miss Hastings, as always, you are far too magnanimous.”

  “Who is Bernard?” Benjamin asked as he turned back toward the two ladies, his curiosity burning.

  “Miss Randall’s Saint Bernard,” answered Miss Hastings with a twitch of her lips.

  Benjamin smirked. “You named your Saint Bernard, Bernard?”

  “It seemed fitting,” Miss Randall laughed.

  “May I ask why Bernard sends his regards?” inquired Benjamin.

  “It seems Bernard and I share the same taste in footwear,” replied Miss Hastings blithely. She and Miss Randall burst into a fit of giggles.

  “Charlotte,” Mrs. Pierce’s nasal voice carried over the final notes of the music.

  Miss Randall glanced in the direction of the huddle where her two aunts resided. She sighed heavily, reluctant to leave. “Miss Hastings, I am sorry I must cut our discussion short. I hope to see you again soon. Lord Westwood, it was a lovely meeting you. Please excuse me.”

  “Certainly, have a lovely evening,” smiled Miss Hastings.

  “Miss Randall,” Benjamin nodded his farewell.

  He longed to ask Miss Hastings more about Mrs. Pierce and Bernard. However, he found himself suddenly distracted. Samantha turned her glowing eyes toward him and grinned wickedly.

  “Lord Westwood,” she began in a low voice. “I believe you mentioned something about a moonlit stroll.”

  Instantaneously, the fire raged inside him. His fingers grasped her waist lightly, twitching on contact as if burned. He pulled her flush against his hip. “Miss Hastings, I would be delighted to escort you onto the terrace.”

  “Westwood.”

  Benjamin growled with exasperation, turning toward the new interruption. He feared he would explode from desire before he managed to get Miss Hastings alone. The heat between them refused to cool.

  “Surely, you are not thinking of leaving without allowing me to give you my heartiest congratulations.”

  “Mason, I would never dream of depriving you of the opportunity to gloat,” responded Benjamin with a sigh as Mr. Mason intercepted their stealthy escape.

  “Samantha,” Mrs. Hastings appeared suddenly on Benjamin’s right side. “May I have a moment?”

  Samantha nodded silently and followed her sister-in-law out of the ballroom. Benjamin’s hand and arm chilled with Miss Hastings’ sudden departure. No longer wrapped around her waist, they felt disconsolate, hanging empty by his side.

  He tracked her slow progress over Mr. Mason’s shoulder as they talked. Rubbing his vacant arm unconsciously, Benjamin marveled at the sway of her hips under the crimson material, imagining the soft cloth rubbing against her skin. She looked up at that moment, sending a brief glance in his direction before disappearing out the door leading to the music room. He idly wondered what musical torment was in store when the first shrill notes of the harpsichord grated on his ears.

  “Should we retire to a quieter room?” Mr. Mason suggested, shuddering. “It looks as though Miss Leveret is resuming her piano concerto.”

  Benjamin nodded, looking once more at the door Miss Hastings had vanished through. “Perhaps we should rescue Mr. Hastings before his wife comes in search of him next.”

  Mr. Mason agreed with a smile. They walked the length of the ballroom and found Edward conversing with Mr. Allendale.

  “Such a shame you have no memory of what happened,” Mr. Allendale stated, concern troubling his eyes. “It must have been so confusing to awake in a monastery.”

  “Especially since he intended on visiting France,” added Benjamin with a smirk as he and Mr. Mason joined the conversation.

  “Where was this monastery?” asked Mr. Mason.

  “Somewhere in the English countryside,” responded Edward with a wave of his hand. “My memory is still hazy regarding the deta
ils.”

  “To lose two years of your life in a coma,” Mr. Allendale shook his head.

  “Thankfully, it was only two years,” interjected Thomas as he approached the group. He clapped Edward on the back deftly.

  “Gentlemen, I suggest we move this discussion to the study,” suggested Mr. Mason. “I am in dire need of some libation.”

  “Some things never change,” laughed Edward.

  Benjamin followed the four men to the study. He entered the room last, leaving the study door open and took a cushioned seat closest to the window. His eyes glanced sporadically into the empty hallway, watching the guests filter past the room.

  The next hour or so passed by quickly while Benjamin reminisced about boyhood exploits with his friends. On several occasions, he found himself examining the men sitting next to him, wondering if something sinister lurked beneath their carefree facades. He caught Edward staring at Mr. Allendale and Mr. Mason with the same pensive look and knew Edward, too, was contemplating his friends’ moral compasses.

  Benjamin could not fathom a reason as to why either man would want Mr. Hastings dead, let alone kill Edward to cover up the murder. The whole situation puzzled Benjamin. He could not help but think there was some glaring oversight they all had made, an obvious clue which remained elusive.

  A brief flash of red caught his attention. He glimpsed the red sleeve of a footman as he whipped past the study opening. The color reminded him of Miss Hastings. He absentmindedly wondered if she was enjoying the impromptu concert. A smile touched his lips. Perhaps he could discreetly steal her from the music room; she did agree to take a walk on the terrace with him, and he planned on imposing that particular promise. Especially if it involved some darkened corner; his delightful thoughts turned to seduction. He shifted slightly in his chair, preparing to make his excuses.

  Edward rose first.

  “Gentlemen,” he stated as he set down his glass, “I have thoroughly enjoyed your company this evening. However, I owe my wife a dance.”

  Benjamin, following Edward’s lead, offered his apologies as well, and the two men exited the study together. Thomas murmured something incomprehensible at their departure, and the three men remaining in the room laughed, their voices carrying into the hallway.