Could it be that Benedict’s own chagrin towards Sandhurst was irritation at being told he ‘did not suit’? Maybe a little, he conceded irritably. But really, to be passed over for that lightweight Charlie Brooks, of all men!
‘I have an engagement earlier in the evening, but the two of us could have a private supper together later tonight if that is what you believe you would find adventurous and fun?’ he heard himself offering.
‘I think not, but thank you for asking,’ Genevieve refused coolly.
‘Why the hell not?’ Benedict snapped.
‘Well, for one thing, I do not appreciate being informed I would have to take second place to your other engagement earlier in the evening.’
‘It is a business appointment!’
She shrugged those delicate shoulders. ‘Then I wish you more success with it than you have had with me.’
Lucifer glared. ‘You are being unreasonable!’
Genevieve gave him a pitying glance. ‘I am sure that there are many women who would appreciate your interest, my lord, but following so soon after my unhappy marriage, I believe I require something a little more … romantic than you appear to be currently offering.’
‘Romantic!’ He stared at her as if she had completely lost her senses.
Genevieve glanced out of the window. ‘It would seem we are arrived at my home, Lucas.’ She gave him a vacuous smile as she collected up her reticule in preparation for leaving the carriage. ‘Thank you for the carriage ride, my lord, it has been most … enlightening.’
He scowled darkly. ‘There are many ways in which to have fun, Genevieve,’ he drawled softly. ‘And I believe, if you were to reflect, that you would realise that I have a much better … understanding of them than Sandhurst.’
She raised her brows. ‘Perhaps one day I might consider comparing that … understanding, and so decide for myself if that is so, but not today.’
Lucifer frowned darkly. ‘You are being extremely naïve in believing you will only be asked to enjoy “adventure and fun” with one such as Charlie Brooks.’
Genevieve was having fun right now, if truth be told. She had been very young when she married Josiah, with little opportunity to flirt with other men before that marriage; but even so, she had absolutely no doubts that she had now piqued Benedict Lucas’s interest by refusing to be in the least attracted to his dark and brooding good looks.
She might indeed be as naïve as Benedict Lucas had just accused her of being in regard to the behaviour of the gentlemen of the ton, but she was not stupid, and a man such as he would obviously see no challenge whatsoever in the easy conquest he had so obviously believed Genevieve might be to his lazily arrogant charms. It was, she acknowledged with wonder, quite deliciously enticing to know that she had aroused the interest of such a dangerous and elusive gentleman …
She gave a shrug. ‘As I said, I wish to be wooed a little before I would ever consider taking any gentleman as my lover.’
‘Sandhurst—’
‘—sent me flowers and chocolates earlier today. Accompanied by a beautifully worded card.’ She smiled at the memory.
‘Only because he is hoping to entice you into sharing his bed later this evening!’
‘I am aware of that, of course,’ Genevieve acknowledged with a cool inclination of her head. ‘But Sandhurst hoping for such an outcome to the evening will not make it so.’
Had Benedict ever felt such frustration and anger with a woman before? He could not remember doing so. Indeed, he rarely if ever allowed himself to express strong emotions of any kind. Which was not to say he did not feel them, only that he chose not to reveal those emotions to others. ‘I fail to see anything in the least romantic in Sandhurst plying you with flowers and chocolates, and prettily worded cards …’ his top lip curled up with distaste ‘… for the sole purpose of expecting you to go to bed with him immediately after the two of you have dined privately together.’
Genevieve eyed him mockingly. ‘And would you not have expected the same from me, without benefit of flowers and chocolates and prettily worded cards, if I had agreed to meet you at Lady Hammond’s ball later this evening?’
He snorted his impatience. ‘If that is so, then at least I have been honest in my intentions.’
She gave him a pitying glance. ‘Perhaps too much so …?’
His nostrils flared. ‘You are an extremely aggravating woman, Genevieve!’
She gave a surprised laugh. ‘Now that truly is honest, Benedict.’
Those black eyes glowered across the carriage at her. He gave an impatient shake of his head. ‘You will find me at Lady Hammond’s ball later this evening if that should be your choice.’
She gave another cool inclination of her head. ‘I will keep your gracious offer in mind. Now, if you would not mind …?’ She glanced pointedly towards the carriage door, leaving Benedict with no other choice but to alight from the carriage before turning to offer Genevieve his hand as she stepped down beside him. She gave him another cool nod before turning to gracefully climb the steps to the front door of her home, which opened immediately for her entrance before closing firmly behind her.
All, Benedict noted broodingly, without so much as a backwards glance in his direction …
Chapter Two
‘Has Sandhurst displeased you in some way?’
Benedict turned to raise dark, questioning brows at the short and rotund gentleman who had joined him as he stood beside the crowded dance floor in Lady Hammond’s ballroom. ‘And why should you think he has displeased me?’ He spoke loudly to be heard over the noisy chatter and laughter of the three hundred or so members of the ton squeezed into the candlelit ballroom, the bell-like laughter of one person in particular catching his ear.
‘Possibly because you have been glowering at him for the past several minutes?’ Lord Eric Cargill, the Earl of Dartmouth and Benedict’s godfather, chuckled wryly.
Benedict deliberately turned his back upon the couples dancing. ‘I was merely trying to understand in what way Sandhurst might possibly be perceived as resembling a Greek god,’ he drawled dismissively.
‘Oh?’ The earl’s surprised grey brows shot up into his thinning hairline.
Benedict gave a self-derisive smile. ‘Not for my own edification, you understand.’
‘Ah.’ The older man nodded in obvious relief, before then giving a slow shake of his head. ‘No, I am afraid I do not understand in the least?’
‘No reason why you should,’ Benedict dismissed briskly, having no intention of confiding that the reason for his own interest was currently dancing in the other man’s arms!
The earl eyed him piercingly for several minutes before obviously dismissing the subject as being unimportant. ‘If I had known you were to be here this evening, then I would not have bothered to come myself.’ He grimaced. He had served as a colonel in the army for many years, and was now spymaster for the Crown under the guise of a minor ministerial post, but was no more a lover of society balls than Benedict.
‘And in doing so you would have also have deprived my Aunt Cynthia the pleasure of attending, too,’ he drawled mockingly. The earl and countess had become his aunt and uncle by long association, the couple having adopted him as their own since the death of his parents, their own long marriage sadly childless.
‘There is that to consider.’ The earl chuckled, brown eyes twinkling merrily. ‘But, much as I intend to enjoy her expression of gratitude later this evening, I am not sure even that is worth the tedious hours I have already suffered tonight in the line of duty!’ His eyes narrowed as he turned to look at the couples still dancing. ‘Who is the beautiful young woman currently dancing with Sandhurst?’
‘I believe it to be the Duchess of Woollerton.’ Benedict had no need to turn and look across the room to know the identity of that ‘beautiful young woman’.
Eric Cargill gave him a cursory glance. ‘I was not aware that Forster had taken a wife?’
‘Perhaps I should have said t
he widowed Duchess,’ Benedict corrected lightly.
The earl’s brows rose again. ‘That young beauty is the child-bride Josiah Forster’s kept shut away in the country from the moment he had married and bedded her?’
Benedict winced at the crudeness of his uncle’s statement. ‘So it would appear.’
‘I had no idea …’ the older man murmured appreciatively.
‘You really should try and get out and about in society more, Dartmouth,’ Benedict drawled.
His godfather grimaced at the thought of it. ‘I have deliberately engaged the services of people such as yourself so that I have no need to do so.’
Benedict had joined the army not long after his parents were murdered, venting his anger and frustration upon Napoleon’s armies for seven years, only resigning his commission after the Corsican had been safely incarcerated on the Isle of Elba—at least, all of England had believed him to be safely incarcerated! Benedict had returned to the army only briefly after Napoleon’s escape, before the tyrant was once again defeated and this time placed on the more isolated island of St Helena.
Benedict had then found the tedium of civilian life did not suit his inner restlessness in the least. His godfather’s offer of a position, working for him as one of his agents for the Crown, had helped to ease that restlessness, if not completely alleviate it, this past two years.
It could not be completely erased until Benedict had learnt the identity of the person who had slain his parents and dealt with them accordingly. Something his position as one of the Earl of Dartmouth’s agents allowed him to continue to pursue privately, and without anyone suspecting he was doing so.
Except when it came to attending evenings such as this one, which was when Benedict usually used a show of interest in a particular woman to act as a shield to the real reason for his presence. Much as Benedict abhorred the crush of such events as this one, he appreciated that they were the perfect opportunity in which to receive or give information.
It still rankled with him that Genevieve had firmly refused any intention of becoming that current interest earlier today. Even more so, when, having arrived an hour or so ago, he had thereafter been forced to observe Sandhurst’s more-than-obvious pursuit of her, as well as Genevieve’s laughing responses to the other man’s no doubt heavy-handed flattery.
Genevieve herself was a vision in cream silk and lace, with pearl droplets adorning her fiery-red curls, her eyes a deep blue and her lips a rosy peach against the creaminess of her complexion. More pearls encircled the delicacy of her throat and her creamy shoulders were left bare by the style of her gown.
‘—have not seen any sign as yet of the Count de Sevanne—Benedict, are you even listening to me?’
Benedict turned from once again observing Genevieve as she danced elegantly around the ballroom with Sandhurst, to find the earl frowning up at him for his inattentiveness. He determinedly shook off that complete awareness of Genevieve Forster’s beauty, as he instead gave the appearance of concentrating on discussing the French count, who was the reason for his own and Dartmouth’s presence here this evening. Napoleon might have been subdued, but there was no reason to suppose he would remain that way. Nor was he England’s only enemy.
Benedict gave the appearance of concentrating on his uncle’s conversation, because, even as he and Eric Cargill continued to talk softly together, his own attention wandered time and time again to Genevieve Forster, especially when she and Sandhurst left the dance floor together some minutes later in search of refreshment.
Or, knowing Sandhurst, the privacy in which to deepen their dalliance, in one of Lady Hammond’s more secluded parlours …
Genevieve, having earlier today sent word to Charles Brooks that she had decided to attend Lady Hammond’s ball rather than join him for a private dinner, had been fully aware of having Lucifer’s dark gaze upon her since his arrival at the ball an hour or so earlier. Reason enough, she had considered, to encourage and accept Charles Brooks’s attentions when he had arrived immediately after Lucifer and instantly made his way to her side before commencing to flirt with her outrageously.
A flirtatiousness Lucifer did not in the least appreciate, if the tight clenching of his jaw, and the dark glitter of his eyes as he continued to observe Genevieve beneath hooded lids, was any indication.
Genevieve had not felt so giddy with excitement for years. If ever …
Josiah Forster, a man almost forty years her senior, had offered for Genevieve halfway through her first Season, an offer which her brother had been only too pleased to accept on her behalf. The man was a duke and Genevieve would become his duchess, Colin had argued when she had protested at the idea of marrying a man so much older than herself.
It had been a fairytale wedding, with all of the ton there to witness the union. And if Genevieve had quaked in her satin slippers at thoughts of becoming the wife of the elderly and obese Duke of Woollerton, no one would have guessed it as she floated down the aisle, a vision in satin and lace, nor at the wedding supper later, as she had stood at the duke’s side, smiling and greeting their guests.
It had only been later that evening, during the carriage ride to the Woollerton estate in Gloucestershire, that Genevieve’s nerves had got the better of her at thoughts of the night ahead.
A night which had been every bit, and more, the nightmare Genevieve had feared it might be, Josiah making no allowances either for her youth or her lack of experience.
She shuddered now just at the memory of the horrors she had suffered that night, and that had only been the start of those fearful years of incarceration as Josiah Forster’s wife.
A prison Genevieve had only escaped upon his death.
Consequently this was the first London Season that Genevieve had been allowed to enjoy for seven years. And, as such, she intended to enjoy every moment of it!
And how better to do so than to know that the attentions of the handsome, blond-haired and blue-eyed Charles Brooks, whilst flattering in themselves, were made even more so because they obviously irritated the usually disdainfully detached, black-haired and black-eyed and enticingly wicked Lucifer?
It was heady stuff indeed to be the centre of attention of two such handsome gentlemen after so many years of being secluded away in rural Gloucestershire. Her husband had supervised her time and pursuits with the intensity of a hawk about to swoop on its unsuspecting prey, with the administration of suitable punishment if she did not do exactly as he wished.
Even now Genevieve could not repress the shiver of revulsion at the memory of Josiah’s treatment of her on their wedding night. She shut down those thoughts immediately as she determinedly returned her attention to the more welcome attentions of Charles Brooks. His fingers lingered overlong against her gloved hand as he handed her one of the glasses of champagne he had just acquired for the two of them.
‘To us, my dear Genevieve.’ His eyes gleamed down at her appreciatively as he gently touched his glass against her own.
‘A wholly inappropriate sentiment, Sandhurst,’ Benedict Lucas drawled dismissively even as he plucked the champagne glass from Genevieve’s gloved fingers before turning to place it on the silver tray carried by one of Lady Hammond’s footmen, with a muttered comment for him to ‘dispose of this’. ‘Our dance, I believe, Genevieve?’ He looked down the length of his nose at her, arrogant brows raised over eyes that gleamed with challenge.
To say Genevieve was astounded by his interruption would be putting it mildly. And she was furious at Lucifer’s highhandedness in removing her glass of champagne in that peremptory manner, so much so that she seriously considered refusing to go along with his fabrication; he had not so much as attempted to even greet her this evening, so how could he possibly claim this as being ‘their dance’!
Benedict, having easily read the light of battle which had appeared in Genevieve’s expressive blue eyes, now took a firm hold of her arm before striding determinedly away from the other man.
A move she certainly d
id not approve of as she tried to free herself from the firmness of his grasp. ‘How dare you, Lucas!’
‘I dare because Sandhurst had introduced a little concoction of his own to your champagne in order to make you more … compliant to his advances,’ he muttered disgustedly as he continued to walk in the direction of the ballroom.
Her arm stiffened beneath his hand, her face paling as she glanced back to where Sandhurst stood glowering after them. ‘What did you say …?’
Benedict spared her an impatient glance between narrowed lids. ‘A mere “thank you for your timely rescue, my lord” will do.’
‘You are talking utter nonsense.’ She eyed him impatiently as she was forced to take two steps to his one in order to avoid tripping and falling.
‘Am I?’ He gave a derisive shake of his head.
‘Of course you are.’ Her cheeks now bore an angry flush. ‘Just because I so obviously prefer the attentions of a gallant gentleman such as Sandhurst is no reason—’ She broke off her tirade as it was met with a disparaging snort from Benedict. ‘It is obvious from your behaviour that you are not a gentleman at all!’
‘And you, my dear Genevieve, have tonight proved that you are a mere babe in arms when it comes to men such as Sandhurst,’ he assured grimly. ‘Once the champagne had been consumed and the effects of the concoction had reached their desired effect, you would then have found yourself more than willing, indeed eager, to retire somewhere more private for whatever debauchery Sandhurst had in mind for the two of you this evening!’
She gasped. ‘You are merely saying these wicked things about Sandhurst in order to alarm me! Or, more probably, in an effort to make me think more highly of you,’ she added with dismissive disdain.
Benedict’s mouth firmed. ‘I very much doubt it is possible for you to think any less of me!’
‘And I am sure that I might manage it somehow!’ Her eyes sparkled with her anger.
Some Like to Shock (Mills & Boon Historical) (Daring Duchesses - Book 2) Page 2