“Does not matter how unfair, insulting, and ridiculous it all is,” she muttered. “I was ruined the moment I rode away from Willow Hill alone. Having Sir Bened at my side only adds a few more stains on my tattered reputation. It is a small price to pay for finding Simeon and letting him know what sort of danger he is in.”
She sat up straight when she heard the faint echo of the sound of greetings exchanged and the inn workers responding to a new arrival. Primrose prayed it was Sir Bened. Now that he might have returned safely she realized just how deeply afraid for him she had been.
The door opened. Bened stepped in and shut the door behind him. He watched her, smiling faintly but with a look of caution in his eyes. Primrose did not even consider the good or bad sides of what she did next as she stood up, ran over to him, and hugged him. To her shock it was not just relief she felt as her body was pressed up against his and his strong arms wrapped around her. Beneath the lightness of the relief she felt over seeing him return unharmed, a warmth spread through her. Innocent she might be, but Primrose was almost certain that heat was born of desire. Blushing, she stepped back.
“My apologies,” she murmured when he grasped her hands to halt her retreat. “I fear I did naught but sit here and fret after you left to find the horse thieves and the relief I felt to see you return safely proved stronger than good sense and good manners.”
“I did not hear myself complain,” Bened said.
Primrose laughed but knew it was a shaky sound. She had not put on her gloves and she could feel the warmth of his large, lightly calloused hands spreading through her. It troubled her when she found it took a great deal of effort to move her gaze from his mouth and look into his beautiful eyes. The warmth of his gaze only increased the growing urge she had to throw herself back into his arms, to feel that warm, strong body pressed against her again. She nervously cleared her throat and tugged her hands free of his. The disappointment that came over her at the loss of the warmth of his touch worried her.
The man was a sore temptation, Primrose decided. It was odd for she was not one who was often tempted by a man, certainly not by just looking at him. Bened was not a man who drew the sighs of delight from many women as her brother Simeon did. There was no prettiness to Bened, just strength. He was handsome but not exceptionally so, his cheekbones a little too sharply defined, his skin good but a bit too swarthy to please some. His thick long lashes surrounding his beautiful eyes and, perhaps, his attractive mouth were the only hints of softness on his face.
His mouth was what kept drawing her gaze and she was not sure why. It was a little wide but that suited his square face. The bottom lip was fuller than the top, which she supposed was what gave it that tempting softness. Finally she found one reason she was attracted to that mouth. She wanted to taste it, to see if it was as warm and soft as its appearance promised it would be. And that was not an urge she should give in to, she told herself firmly.
“There is cider being kept warm on the hearth or I can order you something else. An ale?”
He should have grabbed the chance to kiss her when he had it, literally, in his hands, Bened thought. It would have been a mistake, though. Bened had seen the glint of interest in her eyes but knew she was not ready to give in to it yet. He was still no more than a kind man she did not really know, not even for one full day. Although he badly wanted to taste those full lips of hers, he knew he had to be patient. If nothing else, she was an innocent, well-bred young woman, most likely completely untouched.
“What I would truly like to have is some coffee but I doubt there will be some here,” he said.
“Actually, they do have it.” She smiled at his look of delight mixed with surprise. “There are several prominent gentlemen in the area and they learned to love the brew whilst at the university and when in London. They give the inn the beans and the tools to make the brew. All they ask is that the inn charge to cover the cost of any they brew for another guest and let them know when the sack of beans they give the inn reaches a certain level so they know to bring more or buy more. They come every Wednesday evening to talk and drink coffee. The innkeeper is actually considering buying his own and just selling the men a coffee when they come in but no longer having to worry about figuring out what to ask for each drink or if he can even list it on his offerings.”
“Then I should like a coffee, please.”
Primrose hurried off to get him one, eager to leave his presence for a little while. She needed to cage the urges he stirred inside her before she embarrassed herself by revealing it all to the man himself. He did not need to discover her weakness.
By the time she returned to the private parlor with the maid who brought them both a coffee, Primrose felt more at ease. She added a little cream to hers and sipped it as she waited for him to tell her what had happened. A chat with the people fixing the brew let her know that Bened had returned the horses but then everyone had become distracted by their own pleasure over how he had not demanded any punishment for the young lad who had allowed the horses to be taken.
“It was said that you retrieved the horses,” she said, carefully looking him over. “It appears you did so with no harm to yourself, as well, which is a happy circumstance.”
“I certainly think so.” He smiled when she laughed for she had a pleasant laugh, one that was light and carefree, inviting others to join in. “They were idiots. Your aunt did not hire the best,” he added, and silently cursed when she paled.
“You believe my aunt hired them?”
“I do. They spoke a lot of an old lady, a crone, even though one said she was not so very old and kept herself in fine shape. They did not trust her.”
“But they did not mention her by name?”
“Nay, they did not. Not whilst I was there to hear it. Yet, do you have any other woman you think would be trying to stop you from finding your brother?”
Primrose sighed. “None yet but I hate to think she would do this.”
“I believe you told me she was cunning, mean, and cold.”
“And very greedy, with a large opinion of her place in the world and society.”
“Sounds like a woman who could easily believe she has a right to ensure that she remains in that high place she thinks she deserves.”
“It does.”
Bened could see how his news upset her and fought the urge to take her into his arms to comfort her and ease the pain he could read in her eyes. He knew what would happen if he held her in his arms again. The feel of her slim, pleasantly curved body pressed close to him was still all too clear in his mind. He wished he could have found a gentler way to tell her what he knew but then decided there really was no gentle way to tell anyone such news. Betrayal by a member of one’s own family cut deep, even when one did not particularly care for that person. Too many of his own family had learned that lesson all too well.
“As you said, however, they mentioned no name. Did not even mention what she looked like.”
“Now you try to comfort me. Do not. I need to accept this. It could easily be a matter of life and death. All that stands between her and becoming a baroness with a fortune and some fine lands is Simeon. I have to think of him and not my poor bruised feelings.”
“You also stand in her way, do you not?”
“Not as much as my brother does.”
“True, but I have the feeling she may have plans for you as well. She has to know how you care for your brother, would search for answers if anything happened to him. That is not something she would ignore. Do you think she knows you suspected her of killing your father?”
Primrose nodded, remembering all the tears and recriminations Augusta had heaped upon her when she had guessed that her darling niece could think such a cruel thing about her. There had also been a lot of sorrowful talk of how much she had loved Peter Wootten, what a kind, sweet man he had been, and how much she owed him. Primrose had not believed a word of that but it had worked to end her intense search for some proof that Augusta
had killed him. Augusta would not leave that to chance, however. That explained the sudden appearance of Sir Edgar Benton, the man her aunt insisted she marry.
“She had guessed,” Primrose finally answered.
“And claimed to be hurt and upset, crying about her undying love and gratitude for your father.”
She blinked at him in surprise. “You have seen this play before?”
“It was easy to see. It means, however, that she knows you suspect her. She will not chance that her act worked. Did she do anything to try to get you out of her way before you left to hunt for your brother?”
“She tried to marry me off to a Sir Edgar Benton, a neighbor and longtime friend of my uncle.”
“Ah, an old friend. And he was old, was he not?”
“Nearly two score years older than me. But that was not my biggest objection. Many women marry men much older than they are. The pool of unwed men who are considered acceptable through birth and fortune is a very small one. But this man is a horrid little fellow. I doubt there is a vice he does not indulge in. My uncle is about the only one for miles around who will even speak to him.” She sighed, finished her coffee, and set her cup down. “I also discovered that he was covering some gambling debts of my uncle’s. I was payment for that debt.”
“Sold you off. And she thought that enough to keep you quiet?”
“Once wed to him, I would become as ostracized as he is. I would be going nowhere and seeing no one. I think he may also have caused the death of his last wife. Rumor is rife that he beat her to death even though he claimed she fell down the stairs. I did my best to avoid it happening but soon saw that my agreement might not be needed in the end. That is when I decided I really needed my brother to come home. Yet now I fear I would be sending him into the lion’s den.”
Bened finished his coffee, set his cup down, and leaned toward her. She sat in the chair opposite his and he could see how uneasy talk of her aunt’s plans made her. This was the reason she had taken such drastic action. There was not even the risk to her reputation for her to consider for the marriage would destroy it anyway. Augusta Wootten was indeed a dangerous woman. Bened suspected the woman was as cunning as Primrose thought, so cunning that she was going to be difficult to stop.
“And there was no help from your uncle?”
“None. Augusta is the backbone in that marriage. He has none. He is a weak, foolish man. He gambles and makes no secret about his infidelities. Not once did he do any work while living off my father’s largesse.” She shook her head. “He is truly useless. If he knows what she plots he does not care, or might even approve, just doesn’t have the spine to do it himself. The only regret he showed for the death of his brother was to whine about what a pittance was left to him in the will. A will even I have not read yet,” she murmured, and frowned, then shook the concern of that aside. “There is nothing in him, if you know what I mean.”
Bened nodded. “So you do not see him as the dangerous one.”
“No. To be dangerous requires some work and that is one thing my uncle never does.”
He reached across and patted one of the hands she had clenched into small fists on top of the table. He could tell by the brief look of surprise on her face that she had not realized she had done so. Bened was sure he had the full truth now, although he was not sure she fully believed the threat she faced. Whoever this Sir Edgar Benton was, he would have to be dealt with for Bened suspected the man would not quietly accept the loss of such a young, nubile bride.
“One thing I do have experience with is greedy, murderous relatives.” He was pleased when she laughed for he knew it had been a rather harsh thing to say even as the words left his mouth.
“I truly do not wish to think of them that way but I must.”
“You must. Even if something proves me wrong. There are, by my count, three people who would benefit if your brother was gone and at least one who would benefit if you were both gone.”
“Three?”
“Your betrothed. He is out the payment of a debt and a young bride.”
She slumped back in her seat and rubbed her hands over her face. “And it is my aunt who would benefit from both Simeon and me out of her way.”
“Exactly.”
“Do you think the men you took the horses back from are still going to be a problem?”
“I have no idea, but, if not them, someone else will be. Sadly, there are many more rogues to hire if she dismisses them for failing her.”
“Oh, dear. Augusta hates being failed, detests any failure at all. It is the one thing that reveals that ugly side of her she usually keeps so well hidden. It enrages her. Once I saw that I began to wonder how my uncle had survived being married to her for so long. He fails her all the time.”
“She needs him for some reason. Maybe to hold her place in that society that is so important to her. Maybe she likes the fact that she is the power in her marriage and knows she would not find that anywhere else.”
“You clearly do not even consider the fact that she might actually love the fool, do you?”
“Not for a moment but I could be wrong. Yet I find it difficult to believe a woman who does what I think she is doing is capable of such an emotion.”
Suddenly Primrose felt exhausted. It was all too much. The worry she had suffered while he had been chasing horse thieves combined with the knowledge about her aunt bled all her strength away. It was weak and cowardly but she had no wish to talk of it, or even think of it anymore for now. She forced herself to her feet and brushed down her skirts.
“I thank you for getting Smudge back. I would have been heartbroken to have lost her. I am also very glad you were able to do so without injury. And now, I believe I will retire. Suddenly I am very tired despite the brew I just drank. Good sleep, Sir Bened.”
“Good sleep, Miss Primrose.”
Bened watched her leave and sighed. He hated the fact that the hard news he had had to deliver had crushed her so. He knew that was part of the exhaustion she claimed. It bruised the spirit to learn your family wanted to hurt you, would betray you that deeply and completely.
Deciding he needed to clean up and get some rest himself, he ordered a bath and went to his room. As he passed the door to Primrose’s bedchamber, he heard a sound that made him pause and his hand was on the door latch before he could stop himself. She was crying. He forced his hand away from the latch. She had a right but he did not have the right to intrude. He also knew that, if he went in the room, his plan to comfort her could all too easily turn into so much more.
Shaking his head and wishing he could strangle Augusta Wootten, he went to his room. The hot bath brought to him calmed him and slowly his need to rush to Primrose’s side faded in strength. It was too soon to push himself into her life in that way.
There was also the fact that Primrose was not a woman you bedded and walked away from. Bened knew that before he drew too close and gave in to the desire that she could stir in his blood, he had to make up his mind about just what he wanted from her aside from a long night of lovemaking. The Honorable Primrose Wootten was a woman you did not play with. She was well bred, rich, and far above his touch for a start, despite his new honors. If he took her as his lover, he would have to take her as his wife. That was not something a man did without a great deal of thought. Bened could only hope his attraction to her gave him the luxury of having time for such deep thinking.
Primrose slowly got off the bed where she had collapsed upon entering the room only to indulge in a long weep. She washed her face and then proceeded to get ready for bed. There was nothing she could do to change her circumstances. Or her family. In truth, the only real family she had left was Simeon. He was all she should give any thought to. Her aunt and her greed could not be allowed to hurt him.
Crawling back into bed, she found herself thinking of Sir Bened and softly cursed. Despite her best intentions there was obviously one distraction she could not shake free of. She desired the man and desire was obv
iously a tenacious beast that would not be ignored. The only thing she needed to consider was whether or not she would do anything about it.
If she did she would destroy her reputation. Then again, she mused, her reputation was already at great risk and would be destroyed anyway if word got out that her aunt and uncle had betrothed her to Sir Edgar Benton. She could cling tightly to what scraps she had, thus allowing her to deny any accusations with complete honesty, or she could accept her ruin and do what she wanted. It was very tempting to do the latter but she knew she had to resist that temptation until she had thought the whole matter through very carefully.
There was always the chance that news of the crimes of her aunt and uncle would shroud her own and allow her to continue as she had before her father’s death. Such a circumstance depended far too much on luck and the whims of society. What a baron’s daughter had done or was suspected of having done was of more import to gossips than what crimes her aunt and uncle had committed. Society would consider her taking a lover as gossip far more tempting to repeat and salivate over than the fact that her aunt and uncle were guilty of murder and had plotted to murder the baron’s heir and daughter, or even to marry her off to someone all of society had turned their back on simply to pay off her uncle’s gambling debts.
She closed her eyes and sighed. There were too many roads to turn down. She needed to make up a list of the benefits and consequences and go from there. It might be wise to remind herself more often of just how little she knew of Sir Bened and how short their acquaintance had been. The fact that she trusted him, liked him, felt as if she had known him forever, was just her lonely heart playing tricks on her. It was not possible after barely one full day of acquaintance.
“But I do know him,” she whispered, and opened her eyes to look at the door. “I know it is foolish after so short an acquaintance but I know him.”
If He's Noble (Wherlocke Book 7) (Paranormal Historical Romance) Page 4