by Cheryl Holt
“I can be—when I feel like it.” He peered over at her, his expression exasperated and firm. “We’ll take my coach. Don’t argue about it. You can’t win.”
“No, I don’t suppose I can.”
She blew out a heavy breath.
She was being lured into his life in ways she shouldn’t be. She was like a fish on a hook, and he was reeling her in with great skill. She shouldn’t let him, but she couldn’t resist.
Despite her past, despite her history with Mr. Cartwright, she was quickly forgetting every painful lesson that had been imparted.
What would be the point of being trapped in a carriage with Lord Benton? What would be the point of flirting and growing more fond? He was so far above her in rank and station that he was like an angel in Heaven who’d swooped down to tempt her with what she couldn’t have.
Warning bells were chiming, but just that moment—when his hand was still casually lying on hers—she couldn’t think of a reason they shouldn’t be cordial.
Apparently, she would travel to London with him, and if she could save the coach fare, wasn’t that prudent? Or was she simply making excuses?
But what could it hurt? In the coming weeks, she might need to write him and seek his advice. She’d need to prevail on him on Daisy’s behalf. There could only be a benefit to a closer connection. At least…that’s what she was telling herself.
Where a handsome man was concerned, she always acted like a fool.
Once they arrived at the manor, she’d rush up to her room, and she’d stay there until it was time to depart. She would pass the nocturnal hours, reviewing every appalling fact she’d discovered about men and their motives. When morning dawned, she would be fortified with moral tenacity.
What could go wrong?
It was all for Daisy. Wasn’t it? To ensure her safety and security? To protect her? For her niece, the one she’d just met but whom she liked so very, very much, it was clear she might do anything.
CHAPTER SIX
“You’ll stay with me at Benton House, of course.”
“I will not.”
“You will.”
Peyton glared at Jo, and his expression was very firm. He’d already figured out —in dealing with her—he could wear her down simply by being obstinate. She didn’t like to quarrel, and she was exhaustingly nice, so it was easy to get his way.
They’d finally arrived in London, and he wasn’t about to let her slink off. Once she left to be with her sister, he didn’t imagine he’d ever see her again. There wasn’t any reason too, and he wouldn’t begin inventing reasons.
But it would be lovely to spend one last evening with her. What could it hurt?
They were at his town house, and the afternoon had waned. It was too late for her to traipse across the city in search of her sister. Nor was he keen on having her do that.
“What is your plan, Jo?” he asked her.
“I’ll find Maud and talk to her.”
“She’s at the Claremont Hotel?”
“Yes.”
“What if you quarrel? I don’t imagine the rest of the night would be too pleasant.”
“No, probably not.”
“You’d be trapped with her. Or what if she’s not there and they won’t allow you into her room? London is incredibly expensive. Have you any money to purchase your own lodging?”
“You know I haven’t, but I’ll figure it out.”
“No. You’ll remain here. We’ll have a quiet supper, and you can visit her in the morning. I’m afraid I have to insist.”
They were in the front foyer, and the butler—Mr. Newman—was hovering off to the side. Newman was forty or so, short, slender, and dapper, with graying hair, a trimmed mustache, and a placid demeanor. Peyton motioned to him.
“Take her bag upstairs, Newman.”
“Very good, my lord.” Newman gestured to a footman, and the boy grabbed her portmanteau and started off.
She scowled and stepped nearer, and their proximity was thrilling. The air seemed charged with energy, as if sparks were shooting between them. He’d never felt anything like it.
“Could I speak with you for a minute?” she murmured. “Alone?”
“Certainly.”
He escorted her into the receiving parlor, and Newman followed, no doubt eager to eavesdrop so he could repeat every word down in the kitchen.
“Pour me a brandy, Newman,” Peyton said. “How about you, Jo? Would you like a glass of wine?”
“No, thank you.”
“Just the brandy, Newman, then leave us.”
Newman complied and after he’d disappeared, she whispered, “What are you doing?”
“I’m merely being a gracious host.”
“Really?” Her skepticism could have knocked him over.
“Yes, really. What other reason could there be?”
“What reason indeed?”
“You’re a young lady who’s without a chaperone, and I’m trying to be gallant and offer you assistance.”
“You are trying to be gallant?”
“It’s not entirely outside the realm of possibilities.”
She scoffed with disgust. “You’re bullying me again, and I wish you’d stop.”
“I like bullying you. When you’re angry, your eyes flash with temper. You become even prettier than normal.”
“Desist!” she scolded. “I won’t have you flirting.”
“I can’t help it.”
“You’re behaving so strangely, and it’s annoying.”
“How am I acting strangely?”
“What exactly are you hoping to accomplish with me? Explain yourself.”
“I told you, Jo. It will be dark soon, so it’s ridiculous for you to wander off. We’ll have supper, and you’ll have a good night’s sleep. Then you can set out in the morning. You’ll be more relaxed and in a better condition to cope with her.”
She studied him, her shrewd assessment digging deep, and he had to work hard not to fidget.
“Oh, I understand now,” she ultimately said. “You’re bored and lonely, and you can’t bear the prospect of being by yourself in this drafty mansion. I get it. You need me to keep you company.”
He waved away her astute insight. “If that were true, I’m much too manly to ever admit it.”
“You don’t have to admit it. I can practically read your mind, so you can’t hide your emotions from me.”
“Am I that transparent? What a horrifying notion.”
“Why do I know so much about you? There’s not a single secret I can’t unravel.”
“I have no idea why you’d believe that.”
He could guess though. It was all wrapped up in their physical attraction. It burned hot as the sun. She was a maiden though, so she wouldn’t note the odd forces pulling them together. He wasn’t about to enlighten her either.
“Our peculiar connection,” she said, “makes me think I like you more than I should.”
He chuckled. “You should like me.”
“No, I shouldn’t.”
“Look,” he grumbled, “I’ve simply enjoyed our acquaintance, and I don’t want it to end quite yet. Is that so terrible? Let me aid you a bit more. I don’t have many chances to be generous.”
“You can always be generous. You don’t have to wait for special chances.”
“Stay, Jo. Just for the night. It’s foolish not to.”
He could almost see the wheels spinning in her head as she devised excuses to refuse. Her every thought was visible to him, so evidently, he could read her mind too. They were that attuned.
He whipped away and walked to the window. He drew back the drape and pointed outside. “Dusk has fallen, Miss Bates. Are you really prepared to meander around London?”
Her shoulders slumped. “All right, you win.”
“Why fight me? It’s futile.”
“Once I’m gone for good, and you no longer have me to torm
ent, how will you entertain yourself?”
“I’ll probably start picking on the footmen.”
“Those poor boys,” she muttered.
He laughed, and to his stunned surprise, he nearly leaned down and kissed her. It seemed so natural that he would, and he only stopped himself at the last second.
“Settle yourself in your bedchamber,” he said, “then meet me down here in an hour.”
“To do what?”
“To eat, you silly goose. We’ll use the small dining room. Not the formal one. If we were in there, our voices would echo off the ceiling.”
“Whatever you choose is fine with me.”
“I’ll have a dozen footmen standing guard, so your virtue is safe.”
She snorted. “I don’t require a dozen. One or two will suffice.”
She had a satchel of clothes, packed by her housekeeper, and he wondered if she had a gown she could wear to the theater. If so, he’d escort her out on the town to show her off. On observing her, every other man would be green with envy.
Yet he doubted she had a suitable outfit, and Evan’s sister, Amelia, regularly attended the theater. With Peyton having displayed such an interest in her, her expectations had been raised—Evan’s too—so it wasn’t wise to strut about in public with a beautiful girl on his arm.
Even if he didn’t bump into Evan or Amelia, gossip would filter back to them.
He could be a vain ass, but he wouldn’t flaunt his worst tendencies in front of his best friend and his best friend’s sister.
“I’ll see you in an hour,” he said.
“I will be very prompt.”
“Is there anything particular you’d like to have for supper? Or anything you detest and I should instruct my cook to avoid?”
“I like everything.”
She sauntered out, and he couldn’t take his eyes off her.
Briefly, he tried to figure out his purpose, but there was no need to figure it out. He was smitten as a green boy, and the sooner she left the better. But first, he’d have this final night with her. He’d have her all to himself for an entire meal. Afterward, if he was lucky, perhaps he could convince her to sit and chat by the fire.
It was a mundane activity he’d rarely enjoyed in his life. For ludicrous and very sentimental reasons, he wanted to enjoy it with her. He would thoroughly immerse himself in her delightful presence, and when she departed in the morning, he’d have had his fill of her. Wouldn’t he have?
He couldn’t bear to answer that question, so he poured himself another brandy. Maybe if he had several glasses before she came down, he would quit behaving like such an idiot.
* * * *
“Will this encounter be awkward?”
“Why would it be awkward? We’re never awkward together. Don’t be ridiculous.”
Jo stared caustically at Lord Benton, and he casually stared back. As she’d requested, there were two footmen by the sideboard, so it wasn’t as if she was a maiden about to surrender her innocence by sneaking off with a cad.
Still though, she was confused as to her motives. He’d pressured her, and she’d let him. It wasn’t that she was a meek or submissive person. She could be adamant when obstinacy was necessary.
It was just that he was much more determined than she was, and his demands made perfect sense. The trip in his carriage had saved her money. The invitation to spend the night had saved her even more. And he’d been absolutely correct that it was dangerous to traipse off across London in the dark.
Why bicker over any of it?
She recognized what was happening though. He’d bossed her so she’d tarry a bit longer. For all his pomp and wealth, he was very lonely. She was lonely too. How could it hurt to flirt for one evening?
She’d told herself to keep her distance, but why should she? She would build a store of memories, and when she was back in the country by herself, she’d fondly recollect his every enticing word.
“I had them prepare a buffet,” he said. “I thought we could serve ourselves.”
“That’s fine.”
She was seated at the table, and he jumped up and went over to where the food was waiting for them in covered pans. He snooped under the lids.
“They’ve delivered enough to feed an army,” he said.
“It smells delicious.”
“There’s sliced beef and ham, vegetables, bread, and it appears there’s some sort of potato pie, as well as puddings and a soup. What is your pleasure?”
“Dish up a plate for me. I’ll be happy with what you select.”
“Ooh, I like you when you’re so docile. We didn’t have to argue about a single item.”
“Don’t get used to it.”
“I won’t.”
He grinned, sending a swarm of butterflies winging through her tummy, and she was so flustered she had to glance away.
He filled two plates, one for her and one for him. The footmen scurried about, pouring wine and making them more comfortable.
“It looks wonderful.” She peered over at a footman. “When you go down to the kitchen, tell the cook it’s all marvelous, and we’re delighted.”
“I will, Miss Bates.”
Lord Benton shooed them out, and suddenly, she was sequestered with him. She nearly rushed to the door and called them back, but it would have been juvenile conduct that would have provided the servants with a week’s worth of gossip.
Instead, she picked up her fork and was about to begin when she realized Lord Benton was studying her intently.
“What?” she asked. “Why are you staring?”
“You’re very gracious, aren’t you? And very kind?”
At hearing his flattering remark, she blushed furiously. “I try to be.”
“It never crosses my mind to thank the cook.”
“It should.”
“Yes, I suppose you’re right. My father claimed the servants were doing what they were paid to do, so why compliment them?”
“That’s a rather harsh position. Servants are human beings—in case you hadn’t noticed.”
“I’ve noticed. I’m not a complete dunce.”
“Everyone likes a little praise occasionally.”
“I’ll remember that.”
He dug into his food with great relish, and she struggled to ignore him and enjoy her own food, but the privacy of their situation had her a tad unnerved.
When she’d been engaged to Mr. Cartwright, she’d often socialized with him, but Maud had always been present, and he’d been a perfect gentleman. He’d never coaxed her into mischief, had never led her into a dark corner.
He had managed to kiss her a few times when Maud stepped out of the room, but his advances had been quick and cordial with no sense of illicit plotting. So she was constantly startled by Lord Benton, by the way he held his fork, by the way he tipped his wine glass, by the way he cut into a slice of beef.
“You’re not eating,” he said.
“I find all of this to be extremely strange.”
“Why?”
“I’m never alone with a man like this.”
“I’m sure you’ll survive. Would you like me to summon a housemaid? She could stand behind your chair and play the part of the glowering nanny.”
“No, I don’t need a nanny.”
“I’ll behave. I swear.” He pointed to her plate. “Now eat. If you just sit there while I’m gobbling every morsel in sight, I’ll feel like a glutton.”
She chuckled, then dug in too. He made their interactions seem especially normal. Had he always been so imperturbable or was it a trick he’d learned in the navy? She imagined he was adept at getting his sailors to acclimate and pitch in.
“May I ask you a question?” she inquired.
“Yes. I won’t promise to answer, but you can ask.”
“Why didn’t you spend much time at Benton when you were a child?”
“My father didn’t like me.”
/>
“I’m sorry to hear that. Were you a scalawag? Is that why? Were you incorrigible?”
He scowled. “I was only seven when I was sent to school. I wasn’t old enough to be a troublemaker yet.”
“You were so young! Your mother didn’t mind?”
“My father was an ogre. He demanded I go, and she would never have stood up to him.”
“Was it hard to be away from home at such an early age?”
“It was initially. My father refused to allow me to visit on holidays.”
“Lord Benton! Your story is stirring an enormous wave of pity.”
“Is it? I’ll keep on then. Maybe you’ll like me more because of it.”
“I like you fine now, but please continue with your history.”
“In the beginning, I was very homesick.”
“Of course you were. You were seven!”
“Yes, but I was befriended by my chum, Evan Boyle. He’s still with me to this day—he’s First Officer on my ship—and I had a teacher who was kind. I got by.”
“No wonder you’re so lonely. You never had anyone to care about you.”
“I’m much too masculine to be lonely.”
“If you say so,” she muttered. “How did you end up in the navy? Did you always want to be a sailor?”
“My boarding school was a military academy. In the summers, we were out on the water and taught to navigate.”
“It must have been fun for you.”
“Yes, it was very fun. It was a terrific life for a boy.”
“So you joined the navy when you graduated. You didn’t attend university?”
“No, I enlisted right away.”
“Since then, you’ve had one adventure after the next.”
“It’s rarely been boring, I admit it.”
“Then your brother died, and you became the earl.”
“As I believe I’ve mentioned, it’s a fact that I’m certain has my father rolling in his grave.”
She tsked with exasperation. “You are horrid. You shouldn’t speak ill of the dead. Were you never informed?”
“No. I was reared by a bunch of grizzled old soldiers. We didn’t focus much on manners or decorum.”
“You liar. You know how to act like a gentleman.”