“I’ll write you every day. You’ll be annoyed at the enthusiasm of my correspondence. Will you be in London?”
Claire sighed. “Perhaps. I’m sure my brother will forward your letters if I am not.”
The two girls embraced and then Claire made haste back to her chamber.
Only when they were on the road did Claire give in to tears again. It didn’t help when Ethan pointed at her sternly with the obnoxious comment that he’d told her so… Blasted brothers!
****
Clemson and Ben set off for Elysium Fields early the next morning. Of course, it would rain. Buckets and buckets. Dogs, cats…all sorts of mammals came tumbling out of the English clouds.
Clem wanted to delay their departure, but Ben was feeling an urgency to get back to Claire.
He’d never had feelings for a woman that remotely resembled the tumult now tearing around inside.
Had he imagined her feelings for him? Would Ethan Dorrill easily dissuade her from marrying him? At the same time, he anticipated holding her in his arms, feeling her soft curves along the length of his body. Tasting her. Kissing her.
They’d marry soon. He didn’t want a long betrothal. There was no reason for one, really. He knew. She knew.
But did she? The doubts intervened quickly enough, his thoughts traveling in an endless spiral of angst.
In addition, a cold fear pressed against his heart. Fear that she would not be there when he returned. In Ben’s enthusiasm to smooth the way for this alliance, he’d trusted Ethan Dorrill to wait three days before giving him a final decision.
Ben hadn’t been overly bothered at the possibility that Dorrill would remain stubborn. He’d simply surmised that if her brother refused to give his permission, he’d run her up to Gretna Green.
But as Ben rode the long highway with his brother silently plodding along beside him, he ran through that last discussion he’d had with her brother over and over again.
Had Ethan Dorrill promised to stay at Elysium Fields for three days? Or had Ben merely heard what he wanted to hear? Had he attributed his own wishes to those of that bastard?
As lightning struck and thunder raged, Ben could not for the life of him recall Dorrill, in fact, declaring that he would not take Claire away before Ben returned.
She had to be there.
The thought of her not being there gave him chills. Because Dorrill could hide her away anywhere.
At this thought, Ben wanted to urge his mount into a gallop, but he knew better. The muddied road became dangerous for horses in conditions such as this. Besides, they couldn’t run indefinitely. He’d merely wear the poor beast out.
The miles passed slowly, and they didn’t arrive until after dark.
****
“What do you mean they’ve left?” Ben ran his hand through his hair. Clemson reached out a hand to clasp Fairchild’s in a friendly greeting.
“Good to see you, sir. It’s been too long.”
“Clem, my boy. It has at that. How’s that new pulley device performing for you? Been meaning to ask after it…”
Business! Ben was ready to pull his hair out. “With all due respect, sir, did they return to London? Did she go willingly? God damn that bloody bastard to hell. I should have known. Serves me right for trusting him.”
Fairchild settled his spectacles upon his nose and nodded solemnly. “I’m to inform you that Miss Dorrill has had a change of heart. She was mistaken in her affection for you. Realizes what a dreadful error it all was.”
No. Ben refused to believe it. Why would she leave? Why would she not await his return? “They’d rather her be ruined than accept my suit?” It made no sense.
Fairchild’s lips were pursed. He grimaced. “Ethan Dorrill is one of the most stubborn men I’ve ever known. The two of you ought to know this by now. And obviously, he’s a great deal of influence upon his sister.” He then shrugged matter-of-factly. “Rather messy situation anyhow. Can’t you find a gel who isn’t sister to a man who hates you with the passion of a thousand wars? Why don’t you offer for my Amy?”
“Papa!” The lady herself stepped out from behind some drapes where she’d been hiding. “I cannot believe you would say something like that! And Ben? Why on earth did you leave if you still wished to marry her? She believed it was you who changed your mind! She’s devastated. Left drowning in her own tears.”
“I went to summon my brother. I wanted to work something out with Dorrill…” Ben glanced at Fairchild. He’d been certain this man would provide some assistance to him.
Again, Mr. Fairchild shrugged. “Nobody is going to change Ethan Dorrill’s mind when it comes to business. And whether you appreciate the matter or not, his sister represents a great deal of business.”
“But she’s ruined now.” This from Amy.
“I know that. And she knows that,” Fairchild admitted. “But Ethan Dorrill believes the right amount of money can still land her a titled husband. He’s more determined than ever. His best chances are if he can extract a promise from one of them before wind of Miss Dorrill’s improprieties catch up with her in London.”
“So, she could be betrothed to one of them already.” Clem addressed the issue for the first time. “Knowing the bastard, he’ll do whatever it takes.” His expression was pained when he met Ben’s eyes. “You need to head down there tomorrow if you’re to have any hope at all.”
Ben ached through to the bones, every muscle protesting the long days of riding to which he’d subjected them. A chill ran through him at the prospect of again sitting atop a horse in the rain.
Even worse was the fear of losing her forever. He turned to Fairchild with a fierce determination. “Do you have a fresh mount I might take?”
“It’s dark, Ben. You should wait,” his brother spoke sternly.
“I cannot afford to wait.”
“Of course, of course, my friend.” Mr. Fairchild showed no reluctance. “I’ll have one prepared for you immediately.”
“Do you have a death wish?” Clemson was not happy with the turn of events. “Being in love has turned you into a blathering idiot.”
“I think it’s the most romantic thing I’ve ever witnessed,” Amy Fairchild declared with a breathy sigh.
“So was Romeo and Juliet,” Clem pointed out. “And look at how that ended.”
Chapter Eleven
Limited Prospects
“After reconsidering his prior opinion, Lord Pringle would like to meet with you in my study.”
Claire wrinkled her brow and attempted to verify that the words she thought had just been uttered by her imbecilic brother were, in fact, the words her brain was telling her.
They’d been back in London less than two days, and she’d spent most of her time holed up in her bedchamber feeling sorry for herself. She had no desire to go shopping, for ices at Gunters or anywhere else where she might possibly be recognized.
Amy Fairchild’s mother’s letters had surely arrived in London by now.
A dismal storm had set in, anyhow, resembling her mood in a most uncanny manner. As soon as the clouds lifted, Claire had every intention of making her way down to Aunt Lucy’s house.
She’d allow the scandal to play out without her.
She didn’t care. She didn’t care about anything. How could she hurt so much over missing a person who’d never really existed? A person who’d fooled her? Who’d toyed with her emotions so callously?
“Lord Pringle… What?” she nearly stuttered at the unlikelihood of what she thought her brother was telling her.
“He’s awaiting you downstairs. He wants to offer for you.”
After staring into Ethan’s eyes for all of thirty seconds and coming to the realization that he was quite serious, Claire began shaking her head side to side. “No. No. No. No.” She stumbled to her bed and dramatically threw her body face down into the mattress. This wasn’t happening.
She did not wish to listen to Lord Pringle’s proposal. Good lord, he’d been bad enough
when he’d not been willing to ask for her. What kind of favors would he expect from her as his betrothed? The thought was enough to make her want to vomit.
“Claire, haven’t you been contrary enough over the past few weeks without now denying me this one small thing?”
One.
Small.
Thing?
Was he bamming her? “Ethan!” She rolled over in exasperation. “We’re talking about my life here. If you like Lord Pringle so very much, then why don’t you marry him?”
The look in his eyes told her he did not take kindly to her joke.
She didn’t care.
“You may be my brother. And I adore you. You know that—other than moments like this when you are attempting to arrange my life to suit your needs—but I absolutely refuse to marry somebody so that you can attract wealthy investors. I”—she slapped her hands onto the mattress—“refuse.”
“You are serious.” He regarded her with his hands on his hips.
They’d faced off like this only once or twice in their lifetimes. She had told him a thousand times that she didn’t wish to marry for the sake of becoming a member of the aristocracy, and he was finally going to have to accept it.
“I am serious.”
“I ought to send you to a convent somewhere.”
“If only we were Catholic,” she shot back at him.
“But you’ve gone and ruined yourself,” he reminded her. “This may very well be your only opportunity.”
“I understand that.” In this moment, she thought she’d be quite happy to never lay eyes on another man again.
They were pestilence and the plague wrapped up into tidy handsome masculine packages. They could all go to Hades for all she cared.
“You cannot remain here in London with me,” he pointed out.
Ah, at last!
“Again. I understand perfectly.”
“Damn it, Claire!”
At which point, she smiled for the first time in three days. “I’ll tell Aunt Lucy you bid her hello.”
Chapter Twelve
Shoddy Workmanship
The following day, the sun made its reappearance and Claire and Dolores set off in a brand new traveling coach, which Ethan had purchased to replace the one languishing in a carriage shop near Elysian Fields awaiting repairs.
This one was even more well sprung and the upholstery twice as cushioned. Claire only wished the seats opened up into a bed of some sort. That way she could sleep the entire distance.
She continued to feel rather raw and ill-used.
Worst of all, she missed he whose name she vowed to never speak again. Lying, mean-hearted spawn of the devil.
She would lick her wounds for the remainder of the summer months at her aunt’s hideaway by the sea.
For now, she contented herself with the knowledge that she’d never have to see him again.
Never.
Ever.
A sob choked her.
“’Tis why I never married,” Dolores informed her, becoming immune to these unexpected outbursts of despair. “They’re only good for one thing.”
Claire blinked at her maid’s unlikely statement. Only good for one thing? Surely she didn’t mean…?
“Chopping wood.”
The sob turned into choked laughter. “I suppose they are at that, Dolly.” Except, Claire had never in her life seen any of the men of her acquaintance so much as heave an axe over their shoulder.
“And of course, bed sport.”
“Dolly!” Had her maid really just admitted so much to her?
“Don’t look at me as though you’ve no knowledge of it. It’s not like that blasted Peabody gent slept on the floor that night.” But as Dolly stared into her eyes, she gradually seemed to comprehend the truth. “He didn’t!”
Claire nodded. “He was a perfect gentleman.”
“So, you didn’t…?”
“No,” Claire answered adamantly.
“And you’re still…?”
“Most affirmatively.”
“Oh, my.”
Claire could see the cogs churning behind Dolly’s gaze.
“But why, miss? It makes no sense.”
Seeing as they had nothing else to entertain the two of them for the next several hours, Claire explained, in great detail, everything that happened.
“Seems like an awful lot of trouble to go through merely to cause Mr. Dorrill a spot of trouble.”
Claire had considered this same notion millions of times.
Had Benjamin feigned those smiles? How did one playact the teasing behind those blue eyes? And the not so teasing?
Claire watched out the window, wishing the coachman would speed up and yet turn around and take her back at the same time. Her head was convinced he’d betrayed her, but her heart struggled to accept the truth.
“Just doesn’t make sense.” Dolores clucked her tongue.
“A common trait among men,” Claire agreed.
“I mean,” Dolores persisted, “for him to have not…well, you know…when he had every opportunity.”
Claire wished she had more answers.
Thump. Thump. Thump. Lurch.
Claire and Dolores met one another’s eyes incredulously before being slammed into the left side of the carriage in an oddly familiar turn of events.
“Not again!” Claire huffed.
Bark! Bark! Elmer did not appreciate the world tilting, either.
“I’m so sorry, miss!” Coachman John shouted from outside. “The blasted wheel again!” His head peaked through the door. “Excuse my language, miss.”
Claire waited for their coachman to assist Dolores out and then handed Elmer out the door. Climbing out behind them, she had the oddest sense that fate was playing with her. Teasing her.
The sun shone high in the sky, and the moisture from the rains lent a stifling heaviness to the air.
Claire stepped carefully through the ruts and sat beside Dolores on a convenient rock that sat beside the road.
“We really need to hire a new outrider, miss.” Coachman John plagued himself over leaving the two ladies sitting alone, unprotected, once again.
“There’s nothing can be done about it right now. The sooner you go for help, the sooner we’ll be on our way again.”
Indecision and regret twisted his features.
“We’ll be fine, John. Now off with you. I’d rather not sit here all day.” She hoped he had as quick luck as he had on their journey up to Elysium Fields. He’d hardly been absent from them for an hour.
He glanced at the wheel and uttered some inappropriate words beneath his breath. “Damned shoddy workmanship.”
“It is, at that. My brother is going to need to patronize a different coach maker, it would seem.”
“Indeed.”
“Hurry along then,” she urged him.
After fussing with the horses for a few minutes, he collected a few of his belongings and set to marching down the road.
Claire tilted her head back and closed her eyes. What else could possibly happen to her?
“It certainly is warm today,” Dolores commented.
Claire wanted to groan. “It certainly is, Dolly.”
“At least it isn’t raining.”
“I am grateful for that.”
“Although it wouldn’t be so very hot if it were.”
“Um hm.” Claire lacked the energy for this today.
“But then we’d become soaked.”
“We would.”
“So best to not have the rain, I imagine.”
“I imagine—” The click-clack of an approaching rider halted her words. A lone gentleman on a majestic mount.
The similarity between her two journeys slammed into her with an uncanny sense of irony.
Top hat. Blond curling hairs peeking out from beneath it.
It could not be.
She blinked and swallowed hard. The thrill sweeping through her quickly turned into burning, explosive anger.
“You!” She burst to her feet.
As he neared, she noticed mud splashed up past his boots, pinched lips, and a tiredness around his eyes.
His bearing appeared to be the opposite of what it had been upon their first meeting.
He halted his horse and stared down at her, unblinking. “It appears you’ve met with some difficulties, miss,” he spoke the exact same words he had on that first fateful day.
“I have,” she answered. “A certain gentleman has played me for a fool.” She blinked away tears. She wanted to be angry, but the hurt won out.
Why was he here?
“Are you quite certain of that?” Those blue eyes bore through to her soul. “Perhaps it’s only a misunderstanding.”
“Or perhaps I have been far too gullible.” She didn’t want to fall for his lies again. She was powerless to resist his charm, even now, knowing he’d broken his promise.
“What has this scoundrel done?”
“He led me to believe that he loved me.” There was that word. He’d never admitted as much, but it had been implied.
Was love something that could be implied? Was it necessary it be spoken aloud? Confessed?
Benjamin cocked a brow, and with very precise movements, dismounted the majestic mare.
“How do you know that he does not?” his determined voice wrapped itself around her heart.
“He abandoned me. He was supposed to offer for me but disappeared instead. He changed his mind.”
At these words, he nodded. “Just as I thought. He should not have left without speaking with you. He ought to have explained where he was going.”
Claire folded her arms in front of her and held herself stiffly. “But he did not. He only used me to damage my brother’s business prospects.”
Ben had been slowly walking toward her. Just a few feet away, she noticed exhaustion on his face. Shadows beneath his eyes and yellow bruising where Ethan had hit him less than a week ago.
“But I am here. I have followed you.”
Claire swiped at her eyes. “Why are you here?”
“Why do you think I’m here?” A vulnerability crept into those dazzling eyes of his.
She shook her head. “I’m not sure.” But then she bit her bottom lip. “I’m confused.”
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