The Last Man in London

by Emma V. Leech

  “It … it’s just that … Does it make you happy?” she demanded, finding she was curious.

  He looked away from her and began to walk again, and she could not tell if he was ignoring the question with distaste or if he was actually thinking about it.

  “It did. Once,” he said at length, surprising her with his honesty. Perhaps himself, too, judging from the look on his face.

  “But not any longer?” she pressed, trying to look up at his face as they walked.

  He shrugged, the movement felt rather than seen. “Happiness is a fleeting feeling, in my experience, and not one to be relied upon. You must snatch at happiness when it is presented to you. It doesn’t last.”

  “My, and I thought I was cynical,” Dinah replied, wondering at the bitterness behind the words. “Some people are happy, though, or at least, they seem to be.”

  “I suppose,” he allowed, though he didn’t seem entirely pleased by the idea.

  “Let’s think of people we know who are truly happy,” she said, grinning suddenly. “I’ll go first. Mad Michael who spends his days feeding the pigeons is the happiest man I know.”

  Ben gave a bark of laughter, turning to grin at her. “A happy madman? Yes, that kind of happiness I can believe in. I think I could even envy it,” he added, making her laugh, too, albeit a slightly scandalised sound.

  “Well, that’s my first choice, what’s yours?” she asked as he guided them onto Duke Street. He was silent as he navigated the busy road and she thought perhaps he’d decided not to play.

  “Lord Marchmain.”

  Dinah gasped, astonished to discover that he knew August Bright. There had been a dreadful scandal some weeks back when the man had kidnapped some unfortunate young woman.

  “And what of his poor wife?” she demanded, horrified. “How dreadful to be forced to marry in such a … a revolting manner.”

  Ben snorted and shook his head. “You misunderstand. That is just gossip and tittle-tattle. I can promise you that Patience is just as much in love with her husband as he is with her. Actually, it’s perfectly nauseating,” he added, grimacing. “August just put the word about that he’d kidnapped her to save her reputation. She’d have gone willingly, if not for the fact she was engaged to someone else.”

  Dinah raised her eyebrows in surprise, more pleased than she cared to admit by the romance of the story. Yet then she remembered another troubling aspect to the gossip. “Oh, yes,” she said, frowning a little now. “The fiancé was a Mr St John … who turned up dead and in rather shady circumstances,” she added, watching his face, which had shuttered up completely now.

  “I know nothing of that,” he said, his voice stern. “But I will tell you that St John was a vile bully and well deserved anything he got.”

  Dinah didn’t believe for one moment that he knew nothing of St John’s demise, but it heartened her to discover that he was loyal to his friends. That was one characteristic she could admire, at least. Not that she was looking for reasons to admire him. Far from it.

  Berkeley Square had come into view now and Dinah looked around with interest. Here was a mixture of trade and nobility at unusually close quarters as the both sides of the west-end converged. On one side of the square there were shops, on the northern end, a grand hotel, and Ben pointed out the addresses of the famous and infamous who had lived there.

  “Horace Walpole lived in that one,” he said, nodding across the street. “Beau Brummell there at number forty-two, and Lord Clive committed suicide in that one.”

  Dinah raised her eyebrows at him, a little shocked that he spoke of such things to her. He grinned, quite unrepentant. “I think you’re the kind of girl who enjoys a little scandal, no matter how thoroughly you disapprove of me.”

  “Do you indeed,” she replied, her voice tart as she gave a little sniff of displeasure. Though she had to admit his little tour fascinated her. “Where are we going, by the way?”

  “Gunter’s tea shop,” he said, gesturing to the place before them. “I thought perhaps you would like a little refreshment, and an ice is just the thing on such a day.”

  Dinah bit her lip to hold in an exclamation of delight. She’d never had an ice before and sweets of any kind were a rare treat. She admitted to having a very sweet tooth, which Joe did his best to indulge when they were feeling flush. Dinah didn’t, however, want Ben to know just how pleased she was. Glancing up and seeing the smug look in his eyes, she suspected it was too late, and he well knew of her excitement.

  It was hot now and there were many open carriages parked under shade of the plane trees. Waiters ran back and forth across the road, avoiding other traffic and pedestrians alike as they hurried with little cups of ice to the fashionable clientèle who lingered in the shade at their ease.

  “Let’s go inside,” he suggested, guiding her to the door. “There’s no room under the trees and it may be cooler.”

  Dinah nodded, eager to see the shop’s wares. It was a shame the ever-present Dot had to hang about like her own personal rain-cloud, but it was a small price. To her relief, Ben settled the woman at a separate table with a promise of tea and cake. Dinah pretended to scowl about this arrangement as it was really rather scandalous of him. In truth, she couldn’t have cared less.

  Forgetting Dot with a sigh of relief, she sucked in a breath at the mouth-watering displays. The air was perfumed with the sweet scents of fruit and flowers and fresh baking, and she hardly knew what to look at first. There were many candies and flavoured syrups, biscuits and spun sugar decorations, cakes of such decadent design and lush ingredients that Dinah had to press a hand to her stomach hoping it would stop rumbling, to no avail. Ben cast her an amused look that made her blush and she watched in silent awe as he ordered for them.

  “We’ll have cake first before the ices, I think,” he said, smiling as he addressed her. “Before you faint from hunger.”

  “Thank you,” she mumbled. They were sitting at a small round table now with a wonderful view of the bustle of the shop and Dinah looked around with interest until someone brought the cake. After that, the cake fixed Dinah’s attention on her plate, and there was nothing, not even Lord Lancaster’s handsome face, that could distract her.

  Chapter 10

  “Wherein a visit to Gunter’s … of course.”

  Ben watched the intriguing Miss Osborne as she practically inhaled her first slice of cake. Her eyes were closed, her expression one of pure bliss, and he was startled by a curious combination of desire and possessiveness that hit him hard and fast.

  The desire was no surprise. He’d wanted her from the start and the attraction only grew as he saw how determined she was to keep him at arm’s length. Every time he won a little victory, like the honest pleasure in her eyes when he’d bought her the book … it gave him a thrill of triumph quite out of proportion to the victory itself. The possessiveness was another matter. It was not just a desire to keep her to himself. That was a very male response to something he considered his property. It was more a strangely protective sensation at seeing her happy. No matter how angry he still was at being duped by her, he could not deny that she had likely seen little in the way of happiness in her life. That he had the power to change that for her … it made pleasure uncurl in his chest.

  He reached out and placed another slice of cake on her plate, suspecting she might hesitate to take another. The smile she gave him was one of sheer joy, instant and honest, rather than the measured responses she usually gave. It dazzled him, leaving him feeling a little winded and strangely uncertain of what to say next.

  He didn’t need to say a word for some time, as Dinah ate the next slice rather slower, savouring every mouthful, from what he could tell. She sighed with content as she placed the last morsel between her lips, looking quite enraptured. Ben swallowed, his gaze fixed upon her mouth as he considered putting that look on her face for an entirely different reason. He watched, fascinated, as she licked her lips, a dainty pink tongue sweeping out to gather one
tiny crumb … and felt his body tighten in response.

  “That was … divine,” she said, her eyes alight with pleasure.

  Ben cleared his throat, striving with some difficulty to get his mind away from thoughts that would make the rest of the afternoon exquisitely uncomfortable.

  “What flavoured ice do you think you’d like to try?” he asked, dragging his eyes from her lips and his mind from the lascivious thoughts they conjured.

  “What is there?” she asked, perhaps forgetting she was supposed to keep her cool with him and looking so delightfully eager he could not help but take pleasure in the moment himself.

  “Let me see,” he said, craning his neck to look at the list. “Lavender, chocolate, maple, elderflower, violet, caramel, cinnamon, pineapple, strawberry, and parmesan.”

  “What’s parmesan?” she asked, looking a little perplexed.

  “A type of cheese, Italian, I think?” Ben replied, smiling as she wrinkled her nose at the idea.

  “I should like to try …” She bit her lip, small white teeth worrying at the tender flesh in a manner that was altogether too tantalising. “Is pineapple that big fruit, with the spiky crown?”

  Ben nodded, realising she would never have tasted such delightful things. Only the grandest of houses had access to such exotic fair.

  “Yes, it is,” he said, waving his hand to catch the attention of a passing waiter.

  “Then I should like to try that if I may, please?” she said, looking very serious at the gravity of the choice she had made. Ben acknowledged a growing sense of sorrow as he realised she might not have another chance to taste such things. After all, if this plan of hers didn’t work, she would be back where she started, and such treats beyond her grasp. He smiled at her before turning to the waiter.

  “The young lady would like to try your ices. One of every flavour, if you would be so kind … oh, except the parmesan,” he added, his tone grave. The waiter smiled and nodded his agreement and hurried away, and Ben turned back to Dinah, expecting to find her laughing at his extravagance, but was a little daunted to find her blinking back tears.

  “You … you didn’t have to do that,” she said, sounding rather choked, a tremulous smile at her lips. “I was already terribly impressed with the cake and the pineapple flavour, you know.”

  Without even thinking that this was his moment to take advantage of a show of weakness, Ben reached out a hand and squeezed her fingers for a moment before letting them go again. “It is as much a pleasure to see you enjoy such things for the first time as it was for me to taste them when I was a child, I assure you. So it is entirely selfish on my part. Besides,” he added, rather surprising himself at finding he meant it. He grinned at her, adding sternly, “Now you must eat every mouthful, or I shall be insulted. I’ll be astonished if you aren’t sick. That’s surely retribution enough for tangling me in your dastardly plans.”

  As he’d hoped, she gave a startled little laugh, her tears vanishing as she relaxed once more.

  “You are more devious that I imagined, my lord,” she said, smiling at him in a way that made him feel rather splendid.

  The ices arrived, and Ben found he’d been more than truthful in his words. Watching the pleasure she derived from each new flavour gave him a little rush of happiness that far outweighed the price of the ices. By the time they had finished and exited the building, heading back out into the sunshine, he was aware of a rather pleasing sense of well-being that seemed at once curious and quite inexplicable. He shrugged it off as nothing more than the anticipation of getting a step closer to having the exquisite creature where she belonged, warming his bed, and escorted her to the nearest hack.

  Once he’d given the driver her address and paid the fare, he turned to help the ladies inside. He fervently wished he could remove the old hag who trailed around them and decided he must do so as soon as possible. The dreadful creature gave him the pip. He handed her in first to get her out of the way before he turned back to Dinah. Raising her hand to his lips, he bid her good day and realised the regrets he expressed to her that the day was over were sincere. He’d enjoyed himself. It seemed an odd thing for one of his experiences to enjoy chaperoning a young lady around a book shop and out for ices, but there you had it. Novelty was a wonderful thing.

  “I will pick you up tomorrow evening as arranged, then,” he said, watching her pleasure in the day fall away at the mention of the grand party they were due to attend. “I assure you, there is nothing to look so terrified about,” he said, rather relieved that she looked like she was going to a public execution rather than a ball. She would be putty in his hands if all went to plan. “I have invited my brother’s god-daughter. She’s a little younger than you and just out, so she’ll be just as nervous, I assure you.”

  Ben watched as she worried at her lip again and fought the urge to lean down and sooth her reddened mouth with a kiss.

  “What is it you are so frightened about?” he asked, finding he wanted to reassure her. He might want her to cling to him for security, but he didn’t want her to tremble in fear the whole evening. “I’ll be there to guide you and I won’t allow anything to happen, you have my word.”

  She gave a taut little nod, but the anxiety lingered in her eyes, and she opened her mouth, only to close it again.

  “Tell me,” he urged, amusement in his voice as he reached out, squeezing her hand. “You can confide in me, I assure you. What is it?”

  “You’ll laugh,” she predicted, looking up at him, her blue eyes quite startlingly lovely in the sunshine.

  “I promise you, I won’t,” he said, his voice grave as he realised he meant it.

  She let out a huff, looking torn between irritation and embarrassment.

  “It’s just that I … I have purchased a number of gowns, but … well, I don’t have the faintest idea which one is most suitable, if any of them, and I should hate to embarrass you by wearing the wrong thing.”

  Ben smiled at her, rather touched that she was anxious about such things. “I quite understand,” he replied, nodding and making sure she didn’t feel he was mocking her, as he wasn’t in the least. He could quite understand her trepidation. “How about I come around tomorrow morning and help you pick out something? If there isn’t anything suitable, I’ll still have time to manage something for you if it comes to it, but, judging on your choices to date,” he added, looking over the summery yellow gown and the cream coloured spencer she was wearing today with approval, “I feel quite certain you have just the thing. You have exquisite taste.”

  He could almost see the weight fall from her shoulders at his words and was further pleased by the little flush of pleasure in her cheeks at his compliment.

  “Thank you, my lord,” she said, sounding more than grateful. “You cannot know what a relief that is to me.”

  “It is my pleasure, Dinah, but if you remember, you agreed to call me Ben.”

  “So I did,” she replied, smiling at him. “Thank you, Ben. I am most appreciative.”

  Ben nodded and handed her into the carriage. That he didn’t have to wait an entire day to see her again was more of a relief than he cared to admit. Perhaps he would get lucky and the revolting Dot would be in a stupor and the daunting Joe away from home, he could only hope. He would hope, too, he realised as he watched the carriage rumble away with more regret than was good for him. If he didn’t kiss the girl soon, he would run mad.

  With nothing better to do that evening, Ben presented himself at an address on Bedford Square he knew well. He had lived here himself for some time, but it was still the town residence of one of his old cronies. The Earl of Stanthorpe - Lord Thomas Tindall, known as Tommy to his friends, was a fine fellow whom Ben had known for years. He was by no means possessed of a powerful intellect, but he was good-hearted and generous to his friends, and for that, Ben could put up with a lot, even Tommy’s rather horrific crimes against fashion, which were many and varied.

  On being shown into the dining room, Ben
greeted Tommy, finding himself unsurprised to find another familiar face at the table. Owen Tatum was Tommy’s closest friend, and the two were generally together. Owen nodded a greeting as he was applying himself to a large sirloin with considerable gusto, but Tommy got to his feet, walking to shake Ben’s hand.

  “Well, I’m blowed, we were just talking about you, Ben, old fellow,” Tommy exclaimed, beaming at him. “Pull up a pew! Granger!” he bellowed until a stern-faced butler entered the room. “Lay another place for my guest, would you, there’s a good chap.”

  Ben sat himself down as the butler hurried off to do his master’s bidding.

  “What’s all this nonsense we’ve been hearing about you then, Ben?” Tommy demanded, pouring him out a glass of claret and sliding it across the table to him.

  “What nonsense would that be?” Ben asked, raising the glass to his nose and savouring the fine bouquet. He’d say one thing for Tommy, he may not be the shiniest pebble on the beach, but he knew a thing or two about wine. He took a sip, pleased to find the flavour as complex as the perfume.

  “About you getting riveted.”

  “Owen, for God’s sake, hit him on the back or something, he’s choking, man,” Tommy exclaimed as Ben fought for breath.

  For a moment there, he’d quite forgotten about the fact Miss Osborne had blackmailed him into being her fiancé and Tommy’s words had rather startled him.

  “Honestly, Tommy,” Owen said, shaking his head at the earl. “You shouldn’t say such things with no warning. Poor old Ben might have choked to death. Ought to have known it was all a hum, coming from that dreadful Obalston woman.”

  Tommy coloured and looked awkward, scratching the back of his neck as he searched for suitable words of apology. Ben held up a hand to stop him, realising that this had to be dealt with. If he was going ahead with this, which it appeared he was, then even his friends would have to be duped.

  “Actually,” he said, watching the two men’s eyes widen with astonishment. “I have been, er … putting some thought into the matter.”