DISCERNING GENTLEMAN'S GUIDE, THE

by HEATH, VIRGINIA

  * * *

  He needed air.

  And distance.

  Or he would go back and kill that man for what he had done to her.

  Bennett headed straight to the stables and saddled his horse swiftly, allowing the roiling, burning fury to consume him and enjoying the way it felt, hoping the rage would be cathartic. The horse was barely warmed up when he set them galloping across the parkland while his mind ran over every new piece of information it had been assaulted with.

  Bray was Amelia’s father.

  He had no idea if she was his legitimate daughter or born on the wrong side of the blanket and he did not care. All that mattered was that the odious man had abandoned her to suffer poverty and destitution when she had barely left the schoolroom. He had blithely stood by while she had nursed her sick mother, had refused to give help and protection when she had gone to him and sought it. He had allowed her to suffer the indignity of the workhouse and the slums all alone, when he had the means and power to have protected her from all that. That one of his peers could do that disgusted him. That he had done it to Amelia made Bennett want to seek retribution.

  Bray would pay. How? Bennett did not yet know. There were gaps in his knowledge that needed to be filled before he decided if he would murder the man with his own hands, tearing him limb from limb slowly to maximise the agony the monster would suffer, or use his own influence and fortune to simply ruin him and leave him destitute and pathetic in the gutters of Seven Dials, as he had his own daughter. Whichever fate he assigned to the man, one thing was for certain—Bennett would enjoy it.

  The trees on the horizon signalled the furthest edge of his land and only then did Bennett slow his frenetic pace. Before he could deal with Bray, he needed to speak to Amelia. But, before he spoke to Amelia, he simply needed to hold her. When she had warned him that she was a scandal waiting to happen, he had assumed that she had been alluding to her years of slum dwelling and all of the depravity that entailed. Now he realised that there was a bigger scandal buried in her past. One so large that she had hidden it from everyone. How could she have been the daughter to a viscount and still live virtually destitute for so long? No wonder the girl had appeared upset at his mother’s ill-conceived tea party. She had had to face that monster unexpectedly and probably felt dreadful for the scene she had inadvertently caused.

  And no wonder she had been so vehemently opposed to marrying any man with a title. Her lack of respect for the aristocracy and her reluctance to submit herself to the bonds of matrimony all made perfect sense now. She probably assumed that all men in possession of a title were as selfish and heartless as her father. Bennett needed to reassure her that he put no blame at her door. It was hardly Amelia’s fault that her father was so vile, nor had she requested that Bennett should react so violently on her behalf.

  It was regrettable that he had done the deed in such a public forum, but he could not regret the act itself. It had been a pleasure to knock the man out. If the Viscount was stupid enough to still be there when he returned home, Bennett had every intention of punching him again. Only this time he would not stop until all that was left of the odious Viscount Bray was a sticky pile of unrecognisable entrails on the ancient castle floor.

  Feeling the anger bubble again, and knowing that he was in no fit state to talk to anyone just yet, Bennett plunged onward. His emotions were running wildly out of control. Not just anger at Bray; that was merely the tip of the iceberg. Before that had happened Bennett had still felt on the very cusp of losing control. Aside from being blindsided by his uncle’s charges about his father and his suspicions about the relationship he had with his mother, amongst all of that angst was the anger that had been created by his visit to Seven Dials.

  Yet none of that came close to being the root cause of his current turmoil. The root cause was Amelia. His heart literally ached with the grief he felt at not being able to have her. And grief was the right word. It was like a death, but it was one that he was yet to accept. A tragedy.

  A travesty.

  He had lain awake all night, replaying all of their conversation, trying to convince himself that she had been right. Several times, he had been so infuriated by her sensible refusal that he had almost gone to her bedchamber to tell her why she was wrong. Once, he had even made it to her door before he had turned around and frustratedly paced his way back to his own room. He knew that he had been born to shape the future. He could not do that outside of the government, his father’s voice cautioned, married to a nobody. But...

  At the precise moment he had discovered that Bray was her father, Bennett had realised two things simultaneously. Firstly, the need to punch Bray had been visceral and inevitable because the man had caused Amelia pain. And secondly, and perhaps more importantly, he loved that woman with every fibre of his being and always would. She challenged him, excited him, irritated and amused him. Every time he laid eyes on her, his heart warmed and the sun came out. When he was not with her the world was a little greyer. As his uncle George had suggested, the idea of marrying another woman was now inconceivable when it was only her he wanted. Unfortunately, the obstinate woman was dead against it and that broke his heart.

  All in all, his mind was in a mess. Every emotion he had tried for thirty years to ignore was demanding release. Anger, passion, pity, fear, indignation, blinding love and hopelessness all jostled violently for space in the vortex, on the verge of spilling out of him, and he was becoming powerless to stop them. Once those feelings found a breach in his defences, they were relentless and just kept on coming. Bennett felt like a rumbling volcano, like Vesuvius before it obliterated Pompeii. If he did not get a firm hold on his feelings soon, he was doomed to explode and that prospect terrified him more than anything.

  Dukes did not explode. It simply wasn’t done.

  He could hear his father’s voice inside his head, except this time it did not help to calm him. It fed the rage, mocking him for everything that he could not have. Bennett had to do something to shut all of these emotions out, so he tipped his head back and howled at the heavens in frustration, roaring like a savage going into battle in the hope that it might help. When it did not, he urged his horse forward towards the horizon and galloped like the wind.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Under certain circumstances a foreign wife is permissible. It is never appropriate, however, to entertain an American. Not only is their lineage sullied with impurities, they also harbour some worryingly Revolutionary tendencies...

  He had failed to return home for dinner and Amelia was in no mood to sit with his family and pretend that nothing whatsoever was wrong. They had been understanding when she had excused herself and she had gratefully fled back up to the quiet battlements, where she could worry about him in private. A few minutes ago she had heard the unmistakable sounds of his horse returning but, like a coward, she had not gone downstairs to greet him because she was too frightened of what he would say.

  ‘I thought I might find you up here.’ He was smiling, a huge relief, considering, and was delightfully windswept still, and rumpled from his prolonged ride. Despite her better judgement, Amelia rushed towards him and wrapped her arms tightly around his waist, burying her face in his waistcoat.

  ‘I have been worrying about you.’ So much that she couldn’t think straight. ‘Why were you gone so long?’ All the tears she had been holding back trickled over her cheeks afresh.

  ‘Don’t cry, love.’ His arms came about her and he rested his chin on the top of her head. ‘I was in no fit state to come home. So I rode.’

  ‘I had no idea my father was coming here.’

  ‘And I had no idea that your father was a peer, so I suppose we are equal. Why didn’t you tell me that Bray was your father? I would have done something about it.’

  The ‘it’ Amelia presumed he was referring to was her past. ‘The damage was done a
long time ago. I try to forget about him.’

  ‘Well, I dare say questions will be asked now. Especially after my spectacular bout of public violence. I am still not sorry that I hit him, in case you were wondering. If I had a pistol, I would have shot him and been done with it. The man deserves nothing less. Lovett says that I thoroughly broke his nose, though, so that gives me some comfort.’ His own nose was nuzzling into the sensitive space between her ear and her shoulder, reminding her of the intoxicating effect he had on her body. ‘But I still want to kill him.’

  ‘That is very noble of you. Please don’t. I would hate to see you hang for someone so insignificant.’ His lips had found the shell of her ear and he nipped the soft flesh with his teeth.

  ‘Lie with me tonight, Amelia.’

  ‘That is probably not a good idea.’

  ‘Maybe.’ He tilted her face to his, his eyes so intense and so full of wanting that she found herself drowning in them. ‘But I am so tired of feeling lonely. Tonight, let me be just Ben. Your Ben...please.’

  She answered him with a kiss because she was incapable of saying no. Even though their situation was hopeless, she still wanted one night, still needed the comfort only he could bring. Amelia sighed against his mouth and allowed her fingers to weave a lingering trail through his hair. He was right. All of the obstacles between them would still be waiting for them in the morning, but tonight she did not care. ‘Take me to bed, Ben.’

  Wordlessly, he took her hand and led her back down the narrow spiral staircase, stopping halfway down to kiss her again, before leading her down a maze of dimly lit passageways and up another, even narrower, spiral staircase that went up and up. Eventually, they arrived at a heavy wooden door. Once he pushed it open, the room beyond was round.

  ‘Are we in the turret?’ The idea was so ridiculously romantic, yet so geographically impractical that it made her smile and he appeared delightfully sheepish as he nodded.

  ‘When I was a boy, I had a wooden bow and arrow which I loved. I was convinced that I was one of the knights of old and that it was my solemn pledge to protect the imaginary queen who lived up here. I kept disappearing at all hours of the day and night, so one day my mother and Uncle George moved my bedchamber here, so that I could protect the castle at all times if we came under siege.’

  ‘Very sensible.’ Amelia tried not to let her nerves get the better of her as he closed the solid oak door behind them and turned the heavy key in the lock.

  ‘For privacy,’ he said, looking suddenly worried that she might misconstrue his intention. ‘You are not a prisoner.’ For good measure, he clasped his hands behind his back and looked pained.

  Amelia giggled then at the ridiculousness of it all. She had consented to be here and he had asked her to come yet, now they were here, the gravity of what they had come here to do made the atmosphere tense. It was all so ludicrous and awkward. Neither of them quite knew what to say to make it less so. Her laughter seemed to ease the tension and she was hugely relieved when he joined in. He unclasped his hands and brought them in front of him, staring at them in irritation.

  ‘It is a nervous habit. I am trying very hard to be less stodgy.’

  ‘I quite like the stodgy. It is endearing.’

  He reached out and took both her hands, tugging her closer. ‘You should probably know that you are the first woman that I have ever brought here. I usually visit...um...’ He was beginning to blush and Amelia could not help teasing.

  ‘When you visit what? Other ladies? Brothels? Your mistress?’

  ‘No brothels.’ He took a step towards her. ‘And no mistress. Not any more.’ He took another step to bring his hips flush with hers and she saw the light of passion begin to simmer in his gaze. ‘In fact, my lovely Amelia, there has not been anyone in quite some time.’

  Amelia enjoyed the sensation of smoothing her flattened palms over his broad chest until they came to rest on his shoulders. ‘In the spirit of honesty, then, you should probably know that there has never been anyone. Ever.’

  His Adam’s apple bobbed nervously and he stared at her for several long seconds. ‘Then you honour me, Amelia.’

  His kiss was achingly gentle. His hands settled on her hips and did not move while he placed tender open-mouthed kisses along her jawbone and then slowly down her neck. Impatient, she pushed his coat off his shoulders and he watched in amusement as she undid the buttons of his waistcoat with slightly shaking fingers. Beneath her palms, she could feel the heat of his skin through the thin linen of his shirt, but when she attempted to untuck it from the waistband of his breeches so that she could plunge her hands beneath that unwanted barrier, he held her at arm’s length.

  ‘I will not let you hurry me. We have all night and I fully intend to thoroughly enjoy every single moment.’

  With hooded eyes and painfully slow fingers, he carefully plucked each of the pins from her hair until it hung to her waist. To torture her further, he picked up a heavy lock and wound it around his hand before he kissed her again. ‘I did not know until recently that I preferred brunettes.’ He trailed his lips across her collarbone and then back up to her face. ‘And beautiful brown eyes.’

  Amelia felt his hands drift to the laces at the back of her dress, felt the bow at the base of her neck come undone, and then her tight bodice loosened as the laces slid effortlessly from their eyelets. Every part of her body began to tingle with awareness when he stood back again to watch as he bared her shoulders to his intense gaze. The fabric pooled at her waist, so it seemed appropriate to shimmy out of it; however, Amelia now felt self-consciously exposed, standing in nothing but her plain shift and half-corset.

  Once again, he unlaced the small garment slowly and let it drop to the floor. His eyes drank her in, lingering at the swell of her breasts rising from the top of what was left of her clothing, before he stepped forward and scooped her up into his arms as if she weighed nothing at all. He kissed her deeply again, then strode to the bed. She managed to kick off her slippers before he lowered her onto the counterpane and slowly rolled off her stockings one by one and tossed them on the floor.

  When his fingers went to the ties of her shift Amelia experienced a ripple of excitement, closely followed by a moment of fear. As the candles were all still glowing softly, he obviously intended to see her completely naked, and that was something that she had never been in front of anyone.

  ‘Wait.’ His fingers paused at her neckline and Amelia licked her lips awkwardly. If she was about to be naked, she certainly did not wish to be the only naked person in the room. ‘Perhaps you should take off your shirt first?’

  Without taking his eyes off her, he grabbed the bottom of the linen and pulled it up and off in one fluid motion. The sight of his bare skin, the shape of his intriguing male muscles and the unexpected dusting of golden hair across his abdomen and chest rendered her speechless. Without thinking, she reached out one trembling hand to touch him and experienced a moment of feminine triumph when she felt his heart begin to hammer beneath her palm. It was empowering.

  Rising up onto her knees, Amelia began to explore his torso, first with her fingers and then with her lips. She heard his breathing become heavier, more erratic, but he did nothing to stop her. Only when her hand reached the waistband of his breeches did he take control again, but he allowed her to unbutton his falls while he undid her shift, before he pulled back again.

  The bulge in his lap magically held his trousers up and held her transfixed. She was beyond curious to see what lay beneath that tented fabric and her open curiosity made him smile.

  ‘You first,’ he said, gesturing to her shift with a flick of his eyes, and then promptly crossed his magnificent arms over his magnificent chest and waited for her to comply. Feeling suddenly bold, she slowly slid the straps of her shift off her shoulders and allowed the fabric to fall far enough that it rested on the crest of her bosom. S
he gave him a knowing look beneath her lashes and heard him chuckle. ‘Minx.’

  One of his hands came forward and gave the soft muslin a tug, exposing her pert nipples to his eyes, and she watched them widen. The blue irises darkened further when she raised herself up onto her haunches and brazenly pushed the flimsy fabric over her hips, watching his gaze follow the journey intently until it rested on the dark curls at the apex of her thighs. She could tell that he liked what he saw. His eyes came back up to her breasts and then returned to her face and he licked his lips and swallowed.

  ‘I believe that it is your turn now...Ben.’

  Satisfyingly, a muscle twitched in his jaw as he fought to maintain his control, but then he grinned wolfishly. ‘Help yourself.’ He saw her hesitation and purposely folded his arms across his chest again. ‘I dare you.’

  Amelia had never been one to shy away from a challenge and she was almost squirming in her desperation to see him completely nude. She forced her hands to work slowly as she pushed the buckskin down over his hips, openly staring at the intriguing golden hair that appeared first, until his manhood sprang free, so hard and so much bigger than she had anticipated. Boldly, she traced the shape of it, marvelling at the heat and the smoothness until he growled, hauled her into his arms and sent her toppling backwards onto the bed.

  From then on his onslaught was relentless. He kissed and nibbled every inch of her skin, avoiding her breasts and that intimate triangle of hair. The more he tortured her body, the more those parts cried out to be touched. Amelia pushed her breasts towards his mouth time and time again, and each time he found somewhere else to nip and tease until she was writhing on the mattress. ‘Please!’ She had no idea what she was asking for and she could tell that the wretch was openly enjoying the effect he was having. ‘Ben—please! Touch me.’

  ‘Where?’ he asked with feigned innocence and then trailed his lips over the undersides of her breasts, then, inch by painful inch, he continued upwards until she did not think she could stand it any more. As his mouth finally closed over her taut nipple, she moaned and arched upwards, the pleasure was so intense. So perfect.