A Noble Man

by Anne Ashley

  Sophia, having little experience of the conditions endured by the unfortunate poor, cast an interested glance round the one-roomed dwelling and was favourably impressed. "Well, I must say, this is all very clean and cosy."

  Yes, a little too clean and cosy, Benedict decided, his suspicions increasing with every passing second. Not even at Sharnbrook did the estate workers live in such comfort. White linen sheets, feather pillows and what felt suspiciously like a horsehair mattress were not the usual trappings of cottage-dwellers. And how many working men, he wondered, unable to suppress a wry grin as he turned his attention to the foodstuffs placed on the wooden table, could afford the luxury of a fine claret to wash down their bread and cheese? Really, Nicholas was stretching things a little too far for authenticity!

  He shook his head. Undoubtedly these items had been carried here from some large house nearby, solely for his and Sophia's comfort. Furthermore, he considered it pretty safe to assume that whoever it was who had so thoughtfully catered for their needs had not contemplated that their stay would be of short duration.

  "We may as well make ourselves comfortable while we await his lordship's return," Benedict suggested, adding a log to the sizeable fire some considerate soul had prepared in readiness for their arrival. He didn't add that he would be amazed if they saw any sign of Nicholas before morning, or anybody else, come to that. No, unless he was very much mistaken, he was supposed to take advantage of a night spent alone here with Sophia. Strangely enough he had never once considered the possibility of seduction as a means by which he might attain his ends. He watched her seat herself in the rocking chair by the hearth. But he was only human", and she was a very lovely young woman...

  "Are you contemplating a drastic drop in temperature, Ben?" Sophia enquired as he absently added a further sizeable log to the blaze. She edged the rocking chair a little further away from the hearth. "Though perhaps you're wise," she added as the first spots of rain began to trickle their way down the small window. "Lord Nicholas is likely to arrive at the inn soaked to the skin, poor man."

  Poor Nicholas? Benedict silently echoed, unable to suppress a further wry grin. Would she be quite so concerned over the young lord's well-being if she began to suspect the truth? There was not a doubt in his own mind now that Nicholas, no doubt aided and abetted by some close friend living not so very far from here, had planned this escapade down to the finest detail.

  Suddenly experiencing his first pangs of conscience, Benedict did not find it at all easy to meet that trustful green-eyed gaze. "There's no guarantee," he warned in an attempt to prepare her, "that his lordship will be able to hire another carriage. In fact, it is most unlikely that he shall. That place we stopped at is just a village inn, remember, not a posting-house. He's unlikely to attain much joy there."

  "True, but might not the innkeeper own a gig?'' she suggested, after giving the matter a moment's thought.

  "It's possible, certainly. But whether or not he'd be willing to hire it out to a perfect stranger is quite another matter."

  Sophia regarded him in mild surprise. "I do not believe that his lordship is a stranger to that particular innkeeper or his wife. Didn't you notice the friendly terms on which they appeared to be?"

  He had, but he could have wished that she had been less observant, for it was quite obvious that she was expecting Nicholas to attain all the help he needed with little difficulty. Which was possibly no less than the truth, though Benedict strongly suspected that his young brother had already attained all the aid he required with the deliberate sabotaging of the curricle, and would require no further assistance until morning.

  Fixing his eyes on an imaginary spot on the floor, he began to ponder over how best to voice his suspicions, and swiftly discovered that he could not bring himself to be the one to crush those childlike beliefs she still managed to retain. He didn't wish to be the one to tell her that people whom she liked and admired could and perhaps often did behave in a less than honourable way on occasions; that people were not simply good or evil, but a complex mixture of both. She had, he knew, suspected all along that Nicholas had deliberately tooled the curricle at a very slow pace, but it would never cross her mind to suppose for a moment that the accident which had resulted in their being alone together here had been anything other than an unfortunate mishap; it would never cross her mind to suppose for a moment that everything that had happened to her since she left Berkeley Square had been carefully planned down to the finest detail and that the honourable young lord whom she liked so much had never had the least intention of taking her to his Aunt Tabatha's home.

  "I'm not in the least familiar with this part of the country, are you, Ben?"

  Drawing his eyes away from the imaginary spot on the floor, and his mind back to the present, Benedict searched in vain for a hint of concern in that lovely face of hers. She appeared, as she slowly began to untie the ribbons of her fashionable bonnet, completely undisturbed by her present unfortunate predicament, accepting her lot with a quaint and dignified resignation.

  "I haven't any real idea of exactly where we are, no," he admitted. "This place is undoubtedly an estate-worker's cottage, so there's bound to be a big house somewhere nearby. When the rain eases off a little, I'll see if I can locate its whereabouts, and get help."

  Once again she made no attempt to hide her surprise. "Do you think that's wise? Supposing his lordship returns while we're away. Yes, I did say we," she added, smiling at the sudden raising of those expressive masculine brows, a trait which she had come to consider most endearing. "You don't suppose that I'd calmly stay here on my own, and permit you to go wandering off to heaven knows where? Besides, the tenant might well return while you're away. There's no saying what sort of person I'd find myself having to deal with." She glanced about her, as something at last occurred to her as odd. "Though I must say, whoever lives here does keep the place very clean and tidy. Are all cottages kept this well, Ben? I must confess to being quite ignorant about such things."

  "In my experience, no," he answered, smiling in spite of the fact that he was rapidly becoming annoyed by the situation in which he now found himself through no fault of his own.

  He moved over to the window, and was appalled to discover that the rain, far from abating, was increasing. Confound his brother for an interfering young cub! he cursed silently. If Nicholas had been standing beside him, he would quite cheerfully have throttled him. He didn't doubt for a moment that Nicholas's actions had been prompted by nothing more than deep brotherly concern. But hadn't the headstrong young fool even taken the time to consider the very real possibility that Sophia just might not care for his big brother enough to want to marry him? Worse still, that she might consider a ruined reputation favourable to being tied for life to someone she could never respect?

  It was a heart-rending possibility, but one that was much better faced, if not by Nicholas, then certainly by himself. Just as it was better to face the fact that some deep and wholly dishonourable part of him was not sorry to have been granted this golden opportunity to attain what his heart most desired. Nor could he deny the fact that he was not totally unwilling to listen to that demon of temptation urging him to take advantage of this situation, goading him to seduce her now and to the devil with the consequences! He had managed to resist thus far the prompting of his baser instincts... But for how much longer could he continue to do so?

  By the time Ben had lit the tallow candles on the mantelshelf, and they had eaten their fill of the simple yet wholesome fare, Sophia was well and truly resigned to spending her very first night in a humble cottage, and a part of her was determined to enjoy the novel experience, too.

  Although the rain had begun to abate some little time ago, it was far too dark now to contemplate an expedition outside in order to discover some larger dwelling where they might attain aid in reaching their destination, and she had sensibly abandoned all hope of seeing his lordship again until morning.

  Drawing her eyes away from the fla
mes dancing in the hearth, she looked across at Ben, seated opposite on the wooden settle. It might have been pure imagination, but she sensed a suppressed tension about him now that had not been apparent when they had first arrived at the cottage. Concern over her reputation might well be the cause, she decided, unable to suppress a smile. How strange that she was not in the least perturbed; had not once experienced the least trepidation throughout the entire eventful afternoon and evening, simply because that particular man had been with her.

  She didn't even attempt to analyse this rather startling truth; instead, she merely echoed her initial thoughts by remarking quite casually, "I think we must face the fact, Ben, that his lordship might be unable to rescue us until morning."

  He paused in the act of adding a further log to the blaze, his blue eyes penetrating, and glinting with some emotion that was difficult to interpret, as he turned them momentarily in her direction. "You do not appear unduly disturbed. Doesn't it trouble you being alone here with me, Sophia?"

  What made her start, caught her completely off guard, was not the bluntness of the question—she had grown accustomed to this directness quite early in their association—but the fact that he had deliberately made free with her given name, and that it had sounded so natural coming from his lips.

  "No, of course it does not," she assured him, forcing the words through a mouth that for some inexplicable reason had suddenly grown uncomfortably dry.

  Rising from the chair, she went across the small room and swiftly eased the slight discomfort by helping herself from what remained of the bottle of wine resting on the table. She knew she really ought to reprimand him for such familiarity, but instead found herself asking, "Why do you suppose that I might be troubled?"

  An unmistakable challenging gleam sprang into blue eyes. "Because I'm a man...a groom, perhaps, but no less a man than—shall we say—a marquis or a duke. And because we'll be spending the whole night together...and quite alone." In one lithe movement he had risen from the settle and was slowly coming towards her. "It might be wise for you to take a moment or two to consider the consequences."

  "Consequences?" she echoed, wondering why her heart had suddenly decided to attempt to beat its way through her ribcage when she remained quite unafraid, and steadfastly refused to move even though he had come to stand so close behind her that she could feel his warm breath fanning the tiny curls feathering the nape of her neck.

  "If you imagine my father is likely to come after you brandishing a pistol and demanding you do the honourable thing, you may rest easy," she assured him, astonished herself at the unmistakable note of disappointment which had found its way quite without design into her voice. "Had you been a marquis now...well, that would be a different matter entirely."

  "To your father, perhaps, but not to you." His fingers were on her upper arms, turning her round gently yet firmly to face him squarely. "It is the man you would care about, not his wealth or his social position." The glinting devilment in his eyes had disappeared completely, leaving a gaze so intense that she found it impossible to draw her own away. "But supposing your father, for whatever reason, did insist on a match between us, Sophia, would you try to dissuade him?"

  No, never! her heart responded with such vehemence that her mind refused even to attempt to deny the truth of it. It was madness, perhaps, but she could think of no one with whom she would rather spend the rest of her days than this tall enigmatic stranger who had unexpectedly come into her life, and who by degrees so subtle that she had hardly been aware of it had become totally indispensable to her happiness. Quite simply she loved him, and had for some little time.

  The realisation, sudden though it was, in no way surprised her. Her lips parted, but the assurances that her heart longed to make were smothered by the firm mouth which suddenly covered her own.

  No thought of resistance crossed her mind, then or moments later, when she found herself being pressed inexorably back against the softness of the horsehair mattress, one powerful, muscular leg moving across her thighs keeping her a very willing prisoner, while masculine lips and fingers were working a particular kind of intoxicating magic on her highly responsive body. The chaste salutes she had permitted a few honoured members of the opposite sex to place upon her fingers and proffered cheek in the past had in no way prepared her for this peerless display of masculine passion. And her reaction to it was no less shocking. Instead of striving to attempt at least a token display of maidenly modesty, she was actively encouraging him to take further liberties by easing her body into a position whereby he was better able to reach the tiny buttons at the neckline of her dress and ease the restricting garment down over her shoulders.

  She found herself quite unable to control the shivers of pleasure rippling through her as Ben's right hand began to explore the fine bones of her shoulder, and then moved lower to trace the rounded contour of her breast. She would never have believed it possible that the feather-light touch of masculine fingers could create such a wealth of wholly pleasurable physical sensations, blocking the mind, suppressing all rational thoughts save one.

  "I love you," she murmured, so softly that she was hardly aware that she had spoken, but instantly aware of the change in him. She felt him stiffen, felt those magical fingers still, before he raised his head to stare down into her face, his eyes glinting with a strange mixture of triumph and hard determination. Then he was on his feet and, easily avoiding the tentative hand she stretched out towards him, was moving out of reach, muttering words which made little sense at the time, but which she was to remember very well in the weeks, months, and years to come.

  "No, not this way," he said again, as though desperately striving to convince himself. "Perhaps I'm mad. No doubt my enterprising young brother will think me mad...but, no matter. I cannot allow it to happen...not this way."

  Sophia regarded him in silence as he reached out to grasp the mantelshelf with those fingers that had wrought such havoc on her senses only moments before. "Ben, I don't understand you." She felt like a child, hurt and confused, being punished for doing something, though it knew not what. "Have I done something wrong?"

  He did not attempt to answer, and she couldn't help wondering whether her immodest lack of restraint might not be at the root of this sudden change in him. Instinctively she reached for the neckline of her dress, and tried to set the garment to rights as unobtrusively and swiftly as possible, which was certainly no easy task as all her fingers seemed to have been replaced by thumbs.

  "I do love you, Ben," she assured him when she felt more able to face him again. "I would never have allowed you...I mean, I would not have permitted you..."

  ''I know what you mean." He did take the trouble to look at her then, and although she could not be perfectly certain of precisely what he was thinking, or feeling, she could detect no hint of disgust or revulsion in his eyes. "That is precisely why I'm not prepared to let it happen this way. I must approach your father in the accepted manner. I want him...and you to be given the choice."

  "What!" Sophia gaped across at him, unable to believe that such an intelligent man had uttered anything so foolish. "Ben, you must be all about in your head... Or I am!" Which was highly likely, as her poor temples had begun to throb. "Papa will never give his consent. Never, do you hear!"

  "No?" He appeared not in the least convinced, nor, it had to be said, very concerned, either. In fact, if anything, he looked merely highly amused. "Well, I hope you're wrong, but if not, we must just trust that sense will prevail and that he'll come round given time."

  "He won't!" A simpleton could not have mistaken the conviction in her voice. "You don't know my father. Where do you suppose I inherited my stubborn, determined streak? I've told you before what it's been like at home during these past two or three weeks," she reminded him, wondering why those broad shoulders appeared to be shaking with suppressed laughter. "It's been a constant battle of wills. I have through various stratagems remained the victor thus far, but there's no saying that th
at state of affairs will continue for very much longer. For some reason Papa seems determined to see me suitably settled before the Season comes to an end, and he isn't a man to accept defeat easily."

  "That being the case, he ought to be delighted when I approach him with my offer."

  Her ludicrously crestfallen expression was almost his undoing. He knew precisely what was passing through that pretty little head of hers, and wanted nothing more than to assure her that everything would be all right when he did eventually approach the Earl to ask for her hand, but he remained firm. The lovely Sophia, spoilt and indulged from birth, needed to be taught that she could not have everything she wanted in life, that she must be prepared to make concessions, and, most important of all, she had to be persuaded to abandon those few remaining girlish fancies which she was trying to take with her into womanhood and accept the reality of who she was and what she was.

  "Of course I do realise there is always the possibility that he may take me in dislike, may not approve of me, in which case when we do marry we must be prepared to forfeit your dowry."

  For the first time there was a faint hint of uncertainty in her eyes, and in her voice, too, as she asked, "Would that matter to you so very much? It certainly would not to me."

  "It wouldn't, eh?"

  "No, it wouldn't. I would willingly forfeit my inheritance in order to marry the man I love."

  "Very affecting!" He didn't spare her feelings, couldn't spare her feelings if he wanted to be certain of winning her, and raised his eyes ceilingwards. "So, you suppose that love is the only thing that's important, eh?"