Jake’s forehead creased, and he grabbed Ben above his elbow. “Come with me.”
He didn’t argue as his brother drew him toward a darkened alcove. They dissolved into the shadows, the wall catching Ben’s weight as his legs almost buckled. He clawed at his cravat, managing to rip the knot free, and gasped for air.
“Slow down,” Jake urged in a quiet voice. “Take your time breathing.”
Ben focused on his brother’s soothing tone, closing his eyes and silently repeating “all is well,” as he’d learned to do in Delhi when he woke from a nightmare, struggling to breathe.
Jake’s hand on his shoulder supported his weight. “Gather your wits, Ben.” Although Jake’s tone wasn’t chiding, his meaning struck Ben, and he glared at his brother as indignation flooded his body, restoring his strength.
“I’m not a bloody Bedlamite,” he said through gritted teeth. “Gather your wits before I beat your arse.”
Jake held his palms up in surrender and chuckled. “I only meant to help. No need to resort to violence.”
“I beg to differ,” a familiar voice snipped. Their little sister stood at the alcove entrance with her hands planted on her slim hips, the light behind her setting her auburn curls ablaze. Her fiery gaze locked on Jake. “I told you to keep him in the card room.”
Lana had been a willful chit since birth. As soon as she was old enough to speak, she’d begun ordering around her four elder brothers, and she had never outgrown the tendency. Jake was almost as difficult to tolerate with his overzealous sense of honor and justice.
Jake squared his shoulders, ready to go toe to toe with their sister. “I would like to see you try to corral him for once. He’s as stubborn as Daniel.”
“That is a lie,” Ben said, his humor returning bit by bit. “I surpass our brother at most everything.”
Lana’s brow lifted, mirroring Jake. “I would not boast, Benjamin. Vulgarity and stubbornness are not virtues.”
Ben grinned. He never thought he would miss his younger siblings trying to manage him, but he had. They had no chance at succeeding. Nevertheless, it was heartwarming to know they cared enough to try.
The music faded from beyond the alcove, only to be replaced by the din of laughter and chatter. Lana’s husband appeared at her side, his hand sliding possessively to the small of her back. “Lord Eldridge is signaling for everyone’s attention.”
She dropped her arms to her sides with a weary sigh. Her eyes glittered in the dim light. “Ben…”
Her voice was filled with such sorrow that he forgot about his own distress. She’d always had a tender heart, and her sisterly love left him speechless.
Lord Andrew smiled down at her. “Your brother can muddle through well enough without your aid, Peach.”
“How reassuring.” Lana rolled her eyes and leaned into her husband as he placed a kiss at her temple.
Ben nodded his thanks to his sister’s husband for trying to cheer her. “And if I make a grand mess of my life, I will come to you straightaway. Then you can put things back to rights for me.”
“Marvelous,” she grumbled, but the beginnings of a smile turned up her lips.
A hush descended over the ballroom, and Ben eased forward, bracing to hear the words he dreaded. Eve was marrying another man. She would be lost to him in a matter of moments.
He cursed under his breath. He’d lost her two years ago when he’d lost control of himself the first time. His heart beat heavily, a small reminder of their wedding day when his heart had taken off on a wild gallop. Dizziness had threatened to overtake him, blackness encroaching on his vision. He’d thought he was dying, and so he had run, heedless of his brother standing in his way.
Ben stood up straight, his spine like iron as Lord Eldridge’s voice rang out in the large room as he called for attention. “We are gathered together on this joyous occasion to announce the betrothal of Miss Eve Thorne and Sir Jonathan Hackberry.” The words sounded as if they traveled through a long tunnel to reach Ben. A dull ache pulsed beneath his breastbone as the earl encouraged everyone to congratulate the couple. When the festivities resumed, the words hadn’t fully sunk into Ben’s awareness yet.
While he was in India, Ben believed Eve would receive another offer of marriage. He never imagined she would remain unmarried, not a lovely young lady who’d turned heads any time she walked into a room. Acceptance of her marriage to another man had come easier from a distance, but reality hadn’t been standing within his sights. And it hadn’t had tousled hair and a wrinkled coat. A man couldn’t be judged by appearance alone, but Sir Jonathan Hackberry could not be any more unsuitable for Eve. Ben couldn’t be the only one to notice.
“What does she see in him?” he asked of no one in particular.
His brother shrugged. “I cannot say. He and Amelia’s friend grew up together, so we have dined with him twice. He is a hard man to know, although my knowledge of ancient ritual drumming has greatly increased.”
“Pardon?”
Lana turned away from the scene in the ballroom. “Sir Jonathan spent several years in Syria, Egypt, and the surrounding area studying the use of drums in religious ceremonies. He can speak on the subject at length.”
“Yes,” Lord Andrew drawled. “He makes one want to stuff a handkerchief in his mouth and ship him back there.”
Ben chuckled. He liked his sister’s husband. “I own a fleet of ships. Something could be arranged.”
“We own a fleet,” Jake said with a touch of drollness. Their maternal grandfather had willed his shipping company to Daniel, Jake, and Ben, allowing them to become independent from their father.
“And do you also have a handkerchief?” Ben asked.
Lana tugged off her glove and waved it like a flag. “Will this do?” She and Jake shared a laugh. In for a penny, in for a pound. Those two had always been quick to scheme together, and Ben was happy to see their marriages hadn’t weakened their bond.
The quartet returned from a brief intermission and began tuning their instruments. Jake held his arm out to her. “We should find Amelia and offer our best to Miss Thorne.”
“But not to her betrothed.” Lana winked at Ben before they walked away.
Lord Andrew stayed behind. The mischievous glint was gone from his eyes. “Obviously, you can’t send Hackberry back to Syria, but you shouldn’t step aside if you want the lady.” The younger man rarely took anything seriously, but affairs of the heart appeared to be the exception.
“Your opinion is at odds with my brother’s. Jake believes I have caused enough trouble for Miss Thorne.”
Lord Andrew’s grin returned. “It must be difficult for your brother, so often being wrong.” He clapped Ben on the shoulder and lowered his voice. “Earlier, Thorne was in a temper because the groom-to-be hadn’t arrived yet. He doesn’t fully trust Hackberry.”
The baron had always been suspicious of others’ motives. Ben leaving Thorne’s sister at the altar would have only reinforced his paranoia. “He trusts me even less.”
“Perhaps, but if you prove him wrong, he isn’t too proud to change his mind. He cares about his sister and only wants her happiness. Can you make her happy?”
Ben didn’t know. If a strong desire to please her guaranteed success, then he was miles ahead. “How do you propose I proceed? Miss Thorne is promised to another man. Doesn’t honor dictate I should leave her be?”
A wicked smile swept across his brother-in-law’s face. “Honor makes for a poor bed partner, doesn’t it?”
What was he implying? That he’d been unfaithful to Lana? Ben’s fingers curled into a fist. “If you have dishonored my sister, I will knock that smirk from your face.”
Lord Andrew shook his head, chuckling to himself. “You Hillary men are a hotheaded lot, always prepared to defend Lana with your fists, but there is no need. I adore your sister. Besides, she is scarier tha
n any of you.”
Ben relaxed his stance, laughing at himself.
“Honor receives a lot of lip service,” Lord Andrew continued, becoming serious once more, “but when it keeps you from the woman you love, honor brings nothing but misery.”
The gent had a peculiar way of looking at things, but he made a good argument. What was the sense in honor when it left one feeling hollow inside? And since when had Ben become concerned about behaving honorably? He had just climbed the garden fence and walked into the Eldridge Ball uninvited.
Until Eve spoke her vows, she was available, and Ben had only a short time to convince her that she belonged with him instead. He just needed to find a way to get close to her without her betrothed or her brother getting in his way.
He smiled at Lord Andrew as an idea began to form. “I’ll be by to speak with my sister tomorrow, and I may need to borrow her soon.”
“As long as you promise to bring her back.”
Four
When Eve woke the next morning, she was surprised her jaw wasn’t sore. She must have smiled for hours while she and Jonathan accepted congratulations at their betrothal ball. She had laughed and smiled even wider to hide her distress whenever Lady Eldridge had glanced her way. The earl and countess were very kind to host a ball in her and Jonathan’s honor, and she hadn’t wanted to appear ungrateful.
She had been anticipating the evening with great excitement. Betrothal balls were usually joyful occasions with dancing, pleasant conversation, and perhaps a stolen kiss between the happy couple. Instead, she had gotten Ben. Former beaus did not attend a lady’s betrothal ball. Granted, most ladies didn’t have a former beau to trouble them, because engagements led to actual weddings, not jiltings.
Ben deserved a solid facer for ruining her evening, and she was certain Sebastian would oblige her if she asked it of him. She wouldn’t, though. It was best to forget the evening, and she would do just that when she joined her friends for a trip to the foundling hospital within the hour.
Too restless to wait for her maid, she gathered the basket of children’s clothes from her desk and sailed out her chamber door. She and a small group of ladies were delivering clothes and blankets to the orphans that afternoon.
Eve was proud of her needlework. She had taken extra care to make her stitches perfect, believing no effort should be spared when it came to the children. When Amelia Hillary spoke of her time with the foundling hospital’s wards, her blue eyes always lit up and a soft smile graced her face.
Amelia was one of the most generous ladies Eve had ever met, and her efforts to improve upon the foundling hospital’s living conditions were inspiring. Eve’s only objection to the lady was her husband, but she couldn’t blame Amelia for falling in love with one of the Hillary brothers. Eve had been unable to avoid falling under Ben’s spell, so who was she to cast stones? Besides, Jake Hillary seemed a decent sort of gentleman, and he treated her friend well.
As Eve descended the stairs, her sister-in-law’s voice floated up from the foyer. “Where is your bonnet, young lady?” Helena was speaking to her younger sister, Gracie. The girl had come to live at Thorne Place after Sebastian and Helena’s wedding, and she quite livened up the house.
“Why do I need a bonnet? There is no sun out today,” Gracie said, using her ten-year-old reasoning.
Eve reached the landing where the staircase curved, bringing the pair into view. Helena was tying the satin ribbons of her bonnet under her own chin, but paused to glance away from the round looking glass hanging on the wall. “Ladies always wear bonnets and gloves when they leave home.”
Gracie’s head tipped to the side, as she seemed to ponder her sister’s statement. “Is that an order from the Prince Regent?”
Helena laughed and turned fully toward her sister. She caught Eve’s eye, and her smile broadened. “It isn’t a royal declaration as far as I know, but you still must wear your bonnet.”
As Eve reached the foyer, Gracie called out her name and greeted her with an enthusiastic hug. With the bulky basket in the way, Eve couldn’t return the hug as she would have liked, but she placed a kiss on top of the girl’s honey-colored head. The two had become fast friends the moment they had met. “Someday you will love wearing new bonnets and then you will be told to stop spending all your pin money on them.”
Gracie shook her head, jostling her sweet curls. “I will buy a fishing pole with my money.”
Helena held out the bonnet to her sister. “I believe Fergus and I must have a little talk.”
The good-natured Scot entered the front door in time to overhear Helena. “Has the lassie landed me in hot water again? You must always do as your sister says, Miss Gracie.” He winked at the girl behind Helena’s back, and Gracie covered her giggle with her gloved hand.
Fergus was Helena’s land steward in Scotland, but he had come to London as her protector when Helena wanted to reunite with her sisters. He was as close to Helena as family.
He doffed his hat toward Eve. “Afternoon, Miss Thorne. The carriage is waiting.”
With Gracie’s bonnet in place at last, they walked out of the town house and climbed into the carriage. Fergus closed the door, scrambled to take his place on the box next to the driver, and then they were on their way.
The sky was a dingy gray and a trace of dampness hung on the warm air. “We may see a storm before the day is over,” Eve mused.
Gracie screwed up her nose, apparently unhappy with her prediction.
“But not until after your picnic.”
The girl’s smile returned, as if Eve could dictate the weather.
Helena and Gracie had plans to visit a park on the outskirts of the city, where another of Helena’s sisters was meeting them for a picnic, but first they were carrying Eve to Amelia Hillary’s town house. With Sebastian at the House of Lords until the evening and Mama having taken to her bed with an arthritis flare-up, Eve would be without a chaperone.
When the carriage turned onto Park Street, Helena picked at her glove as she was prone to do when uncertain. “I wish I could have canceled the picnic, but there wasn’t enough time. I feel as if I am disappointing you and Sebastian.”
“Don’t be silly.” Eve flicked her wrist, mentally directing her sister-in-law’s guilt out the window. “You have not seen Lavinia since before your wedding. Certainly she misses you both. I will be fine without you.”
“I could leave Fergus—”
“Helena, please stop fretting. I will be on a charity mission. What possible trouble could I get into at the foundling hospital?” Eve was certain Amelia Hillary knew about Ben’s appearance at the ball last night and might question Eve about him. The last thing Eve wanted was a hovering Scot listening to every word spoken. “Besides, Sebastian would be in a temper if you went without protection.”
Helena stopped nibbling her bottom lip and sighed. “I suppose you are right.”
“Of course I am.” Eve smiled in reassurance as the carriage slowed to a halt at Verona House. After kissing her companions’ cheeks and wishing them a pleasant afternoon, Eve accepted Fergus’s hand down from the carriage and thanked him for his escort to the door. He handed her the basket of children’s clothes as the Hillarys’ butler invited her to follow him to the drawing room.
Eve was early, but she wasn’t the first to arrive. Lady Bianca Norwick—Amelia’s dearest friend—and Lady Fiona Banner were already having tea. Their faces lit with smiles when the butler announced her.
“Eve, how lovely that you could come.” Amelia crossed the room to embrace her. “Please join us.”
Eve’s heart expanded at the warm reception. It was hard to believe at the beginning of the Season she’d had no friends, and now these three ladies had become her closest confidantes. Bianca—better known as Bibi among friends—had been the first to take Eve under her wing, securing an appointment for her with the most sought after
modiste in London. Then the countess had gone the extra step and secured a husband for her as well. Eve smiled in memory of their recurring jest. Bibi might have arranged an introduction between her and Jonathan, but Eve had brought him up to scratch.
Fiona, Bibi’s sister-in-law, perked up as Eve approached the sitting area with her basket in hand. “You’ve brought your sewing. May I see?”
She was pleased with Fiona’s request, for the baroness’s skill with a needle was unparalleled. Setting the basket on a side table, Eve lowered into a refined damask chair and retrieved a snowy white gown from her basket. She had painstakingly embroidered yellow daisies around the hem. As Fiona tipped her ash-blond head to the side and inspected her stitches, Eve held her breath.
Her friend murmured with approval as she flipped over the fabric to check the opposite side. “Impeccable work, my dear.” Placing the gown on her lap, Fiona aimed a teasing look at her sister-in-law. “It is good to know someone’s little darlings will be well dressed.”
It was common knowledge in their small circle that Bibi abhorred needlework, and having seen some of her creations, Eve agreed it was probably wise to leave the embroidery to others.
“Lud!” Bibi shot back, her brown eyes twinkling. “Little Fi is the best-dressed girl in England, thanks to her auntie.”
Spots of color appeared on Fiona’s thin cheeks, and she tittered with pleasure.
Eve watched the ladies’ exchange with a touch of envy. Jonathan had no family, having lost both parents while he was away at Cambridge and two brothers to the war. Her betrothed had no extended family either, which left him quite alone in the world. It was no wonder he had turned to books and study.
Feeling sorry for herself was too selfish by half—she had a small and loving family of her own—but she had always longed to be part of something bigger. It wasn’t to be, though. Swallowing a wistful sigh, she pulled a blanket from the basket.
Best of Both Rogues Page 4