Benedict's Commands

by Golden Angel

  This time it was Arabella’s turn to launch herself at her best friend - it was much nicer to do so in happiness rather than misery.

  Seeing as how Gabrielle was obviously worn out, once Arabella had gotten over expressing her joy and accepting the honor, she insisted Felix take Gabrielle up to bed. She needed to rest! Arabella would find Isaac and they could be on their way - she would be hard pressed to keep from blurting out her joy, but somehow she would manage.

  ******

  Taking Isaac into the library, Thomas sighed when he saw Walter, already disheveled looking and slumped in a chair. None of them were dealing well with his father’s sudden malady.

  His own emotions felt as though they were seething just below the surface of the facade he’d erected. With his father out of commission, even temporarily, he became the de facto head of the family until his father recovered. So, as much as he wanted to drink himself three sheets to the wind as Walter appeared determined to do, he could not.

  Isaac clapped his hand on Thomas’ shoulder, steering him towards a chair.

  “Come, sit. You look like you’re about to fall over,” Isaac said firmly. Thomas almost started to argue, but he would like to sit.

  Isaac apparently wouldn’t think any less of him for doing so.

  Indeed, his friend had a very sympathetic expression on his face, and somehow Thomas knew it wasn’t just because his father was ill, but also because Isaac knew what it was to have the burdens and responsibilities of a title suddenly thrust upon him before he was ready. Both of them should have years, even decades, before it became a concern, and yet Isaac was already a duke, and Thomas could very easily have inherited his viscountcy this morning.

  He was so very relieved he hadn’t, but he couldn’t deny his reality still felt entirely altered.

  “How much have you had?” Isaac asked Walter, who looked up at him morosely.

  “Not enough,” Walter replied, slurring the words.

  “More than he should,” Thomas said, slumping into his own chair.

  He decided not to protest when Isaac handed him a snifter of brandy. At least he gave Walter a glass of water, which someone had thoughtfully left a pitcher of next to the bottle of brandy. Walter hadn’t actually touched it, but having it on hand was good. Thomas should have thought of that. He was already failing his brother.

  “I take it Felix is with Gabrielle?” Isaac asked.

  “Yes, she and Mother cried on each other when they first arrived, but when the doctor called Mother back into Father’s room, Gabrielle became quite overwrought so Felix took her aside.” Something else to feel guilty about. Thomas hadn’t had the slightest idea what to do for his sister-in-law, whom he doted on, nor had he been able to assist Felix in any manner.

  Looking at his snifter, Thomas decided one glass wouldn’t hurt. He would still have his wits about him.

  “Arabella will help,” Isaac said consolingly as he sat down across from Thomas. “She adores Gabrielle.”

  “Yes, I’m sure her presence will comfort Gabrielle greatly,” Thomas said, feeling a little better. That had been one thing he’d been able to do - when Gabrielle had said (between heaving sobs) that she wanted her best friend, Thomas had dashed off a message immediately.

  Isaac’s sister was a hoyden - over-dramatic, mouthy, far too bossy, spoiled, and strained the limits of Society’s conventions, but she was also a very loyal, trustworthy, and protective friend to Gabrielle - and by extension to Gabrielle’s family. Walter liked her, but then, Walter did like audacious personalities in general. She was certainly beautiful, and could be charming when she bent her mind to it, but eventually her true self would emerge. More than once, Thomas had wished he had charge of her - while Isaac had mentioned he’d spanked her on occasion, she obviously wanted for more stern discipline than she actually received. She had both her brothers wrapped around her slim fingers and they didn’t even seem to notice.

  Still, if she could help Gabrielle today, he would be grateful.

  He’d had the oddest moment when she’d first arrived, cheeks flushed, hair falling from her coiffure, dress slightly askew, as if she’d just risen from bed - an image of what she might look like after being thoroughly pleasured - and he’d actually felt a stirring of arousal when he looked at her. It had been completely inappropriate of course, not only because of who she was but because of the circumstances, and Thomas could only conclude his body’s responses were completely thrown off kilter by the morning’s events.

  “Is Miss Wilson with them?” Isaac asked.

  “No, she’s retreated to her room,” Thomas said. She’d looked very upset but she hadn’t cried - at least not in front of anyone. He supposed he should send a maid to check on her eventually and be sure she didn’t require anything. Heaven knew the too-shy chit would never speak up and ask if it were left to her.

  A long silence stretched between them, before Walter asked after Lydia. Thomas grimaced. He hadn’t even noticed Isaac’s wife’s absence. Had his wits completely abandoned him? Isaac answered that she was feeling under the weather, which led to a general discussion of the various maladies going around the ton currently. No one mentioned the obvious one, happening upstairs.

  “Do you think Mother will want to go home?” Walter asked suddenly, a question which made them all pause.

  Mother had been overjoyed to throw herself into the Season, especially with a protege to establish. Cutting Mary’s Season short by a month would not be entirely detrimental, but it would cause their mother a certain amount of guilt. On the other hand, since she and their father were a truly loving couple, unlike so many in the ton, she would also wish to remain with her husband.

  “I think it will depend on what the doctor says,” Thomas said slowly. “He did say Father shouldn’t strain himself-”

  “Or eat so much bacon, drink so much wine, or smoke so much,” Walter said with a snort. Those were certainly going to be some uphill battles for their mother.

  The corners of Thomas’ mouth twitched. Except, he shouldn’t be smiling considering the seriousness of the situation, so he pushed the impulse back down. “If the doctor says Father can remain, even if the recommendation is not to, Father will probably want to out of pure stubbornness, and Mother will end up not fighting him too hard since she’ll feel as if she’s neglecting her duties by not giving Mary a full Season. Although, perhaps we can hire a chaperone, so my parents can retire to the countryside, and Mary can still finish out her Season.”

  “With you as escort?” Isaac asked, raising his eyebrows and then tilting his head, thinking it over. “As long as the chaperone resided here as well, I don’t think it would cause much comment. Although, you’ll certainly raise the odds on those who think you’ll offer for her by the end of the Season.”

  Thomas couldn’t help his snort of laughter. “Not likely. She and I would not suit at all. But I must admit, she is very helpful as a shield when it comes to my own quest.”

  A quest which had now taken on so much more importance.

  Logically, intellectually, Thomas had known his father wouldn’t live forever. He’d known he would need to marry and bear an heir, because one day his father would pass and he would be the Viscount. But he’d never imagined his father wouldn’t be there to see him marry, to meet his grandchildren and dandle them on his knee.

  This morning, his father’s mortality had smacked him square in the face, harder than any blow he’d ever taken while boxing at Gentleman Jim’s. The realization had completely changed the way he viewed the world, his goals, and his timetables.

  He no longer felt so blasé about taking his time to choose a bride and start a family, not if he wanted to ensure his father would be there to see him do both.

  After this morning, he’d be taking a much more serious look at the candidates he’d already had in mind.

  “The quest for the perfect wife!” Walter said, raising his glass and hiccupping. “Thomas’ personal Holy Grail.”

  “The
grail was fictional,” Thomas pointed out.

  Walter gave him a sardonic look.

  “I already have several possibilities in mind,” Thomas said haughtily. “With father’s health in mind, I’ve decided I will spend the next few weeks ascertaining which lady is most suited to me, and make an offer by the end of this Season.”

  “Don’t suppose my sister might be one of them?” Isaac asked almost hopefully. “I’d really prefer not to suffer through a third Season with her as a debutante.”

  “Absolutely not,” Thomas replied firmly. He had no wish to be rude, but neither did he want Isaac to hope for the impossible. “We would not suit at all.”

  “Why not?” asked Walter, with a drunken chuckle, while Isaac sighed and slumped back, already defeated. “She’s beautiful, accomplished, knows how to run a household, is actually an experienced hostess unlike the other debs, and can carry on an intelligent conversation - something else which is in short supply.”

  “She’s also brazenly outspoken, prone to melodrama, often insultingly direct, far too used to being the center of attention, demanding, hoydenish, and spoiled,” Thomas said succinctly, with a shrug of apology to Isaac.

  “Here now,” Isaac said, although he didn’t sound especially defensive. “She’s gotten quite a bit better this year, especially with Lydia steering her Season. She’s barely made any real waves at all.”

  Thomas rolled his eyes. “Marginal improvements are better than none I suppose, but I barely saw a difference in her behavior. She still goes galloping through Hyde Park in the morning, doesn’t she?”

  “Well… yes.”

  “And she asked Lady March if she’d stuffed her bosom with cotton?”

  “Yes, but only after-”

  “And called Lord Charters a dunce in his hearing?”

  “The man isn’t exactly-”

  “Barged into the Marley box without an invitation?”

  “That was for-”

  “I caught her speaking to the Marquess of Hartford myself.”

  “She wouldn’t have normally, but-“

  “And those are just a few of her antics this Season,” Thomas said, shaking his head. “I won’t count her appearance this morning, since it’s to her credit that she rushed to Gabrielle’s side, but really she should have taken the time to put herself to rights in the carriage over here.”

  Isaac grimaced. “Well, she did what she could. She actually put her hair up herself on the ride.”

  Hearing that, Thomas didn’t know whether he felt guilty for disparaging her efforts which, after all, were made in an attempt to reach Gabrielle with all speed, or condemning because she’d tried to put up her own hair. Either way, it didn’t really matter. She obviously wasn’t the woman for him. Not only did she not come close to meeting all the qualifications on his list, she was the very opposite of quite a few of them.

  “At any rate, she and I decidedly would not suit.”

  “So what paragon of pedestrian plainness are you planning to marry?” asked Walter, who then giggled at his own witty alliteration. At least, Thomas assumed he thought his alliteration witty and that was why he was giggling.

  “Miss Priscilla Bliss is currently the forerunner,” he said. “Although I’m also considering Lady Winifred Bellmont and Miss Charity Sawyer. They’ve both attended a finishing school I’m told is well recommended, so they should be exemplary hostesses. I’m sure Miss Bliss has been trained as well, and she has a very soothing presence, and she is probably not aiming as high as Lady Winifred or Miss Sawyer.”

  Although Miss Bliss’ parents were perfectly respectable, Lady Winifred was the daughter of the Duke of Somerset and Miss Sawyer was the niece of the Duke of Marbury. By all rights, Miss Bliss couldn’t hope to aim as high as either of them. Not that a landing a viscount was anything to sniff at, but it truly depended on the lady’s preferences. None of them seemed averse to his suit, but he was a realist and knew Miss Bliss would be grateful for his attentions while the other two might take it as more their due. Especially Lady Winifred, but as she seemed to fit his qualifications, he had not struck her from the list.

  “Not Lady Winifred,” Isaac said, making a face. “I remember her from her debut last year. She was determined to catch a duke; from what I understand, though, she’s perfectly happy to keep other titled gentlemen on a string. I suppose in case she fails to succeed in her goal.”

  Thomas was not too disappointed to strike her from the list.

  “As I said, she was not my first choice.”

  “I have met Miss Bliss,” Isaac said, musing. “I remember her being quite sweet.”

  “Sweet,” Walter said, snorting. He pointed at Thomas. “You’re going to end up miserable and you’re going to thoroughly deserve it.”

  ******

  He most certainly was!

  Furious, unable to bring herself to listen any further as her brother started to describe his impression of the boring and sweet Miss Bliss. If she recalled correctly, last summer her brother had described the young woman as having the same personality as a sheep. The debutante actually simpered. Simpered!

  And somehow that nodcock, Thomas, found her attractive?

  She was at the top of his mind? She fit his infamous list of qualifications?!

  While Arabella had confined herself, cribbed herself in, done her best to show she could fit the list. She’d dampened her spirits, made herself behave, bit her lip more times than she could remember, and all in the name of showing Thomas she could be his perfect wife. Because for some reason, she actually liked him.

  Oh… bother and damnation.

  Arabella knew the reasons. She didn’t want a husband whom she could run right over, and Thomas never let her push him around, not even the way her brothers did. She couldn’t manipulate or cajole him, and she found that strength of personality rather attractive.

  Add to that his honor, his occasional wry sense of humor, the debilitating charm he could conjure when he chose, his sense of duty to his family, and his acceptance of a woman’s intelligence - what wasn’t there to love?

  Well, his priggishness for one thing.

  Arabella hadn’t realized exactly how far it ran.

  I won’t count her appearance this morning.

  Ha! And she’d been going to forgive him for his supercilious attitude!

  Careful not to stomp down the hall, no matter how much she might want to, Arabella hurried for the front door. She embraced her anger, because it was much preferable over embarrassment and hurt. Granted, not all the changes she’d made to her behavior this Season had been necessarily bad; Lydia had been right about many of the corrections she’d gently made, but Arabella had felt more and more stifled as she’d tried to show off for Thomas.

  The bloody numbskull hadn’t even noticed.

  Telling herself the tears in her eyes were from righteous fury, Arabella stormed out the door - she was far away enough from the library that they wouldn’t be able to hear her. Wearing slippers, she could only make so much noise anyway, no matter how heavily she tread.

  Of course, walking home in mismatched slippers and her hair slipping every which way - even if she had fixed her buttons - without an escort was rash. Even as early in the day as it still was, she had a good chance of being seen as the ton began to leave their houses.

  Good, she thought grimly.

  Thomas thought she was an unmanageable hoyden on the edge of scandal anyway. Why should she bother to continue trying to prove him wrong?

  He could have the perfect, simpering, undemanding, boring Miss Bliss as his bride, and Arabella could finally have some fun this Season.

  ******

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  About the Author

  About me? Right… I’m a writer, I should be able to do that, right?

  I’m a happily married young woman, no kids so far, and I like tater tots, small fuzzy animals, naming my plants, hiking, reading, writing, sexy time, naked time, shirtless o’clock, anything sparkly or shiny, and weirding people out with my OCD food habits.

  I believe in Happy Endings. And fairies. And Santa Claus. Because without a little magic, what’s the point of living?

  I write because I must. I live in several different worlds at any given moment. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.

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  Other Titles by Golden Angel

  Bridal Discipline Series

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  Undisciplined (Book 1.5)

  Gabrielle’s Discipline

  Lydia’s Penance

  Domestic Discipline Quartet

  Birching His Bride

  Dealing With Discipline

  Punishing His Ward

  Claiming His Wife

  Venus Rising Quartet

  The Venus School

  Venus Aspiring

  Venus Desiring

  Venus Transcendent

  Stronghold Series

  Stronghold

  Taming the Tease

  On His Knees

  Mastering Lexie

  Pieces of Stronghold

  Breaking the Chain

  Bound to the Past

  Stripping the Sub

  Poker Loser Trilogy

  Forced Bet

  Back in the Game

  Winning Hand

  Poker Loser Trilogy Bundle (3 books in 1!)

  Big Bad Bunnies Series

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