Читать книгу The Brooding Duke Of Danforth - Christine Merrill, Christine Merrill - Страница 11

Benedict stood patiently in the finest guestroom of Comstock Manor as his valet dressed him for dinner. When he’d arrived, the Earl had told him that it was a former repose for King Henry VIII.

He had seen better.

Until recently, Comstock had been an American. It was quite possible that he knew little to nothing about the house or its previous guests and had made the story up out of whole cloth. Still, it was comfortable enough. The mattress was not a Tudor antique and he slept well on it.

‘Chin up, Your Grace.’

He obliged as Gibbs flipped the linen cravat about his neck and began the knot.

There was a single knock on the door and, as usual, it opened and closed before he could even give his permission for entrance. He watched in the mirror before him as Lenore crossed the room to sprawl among the pillows on his bed.

‘You should not be here,’ he reminded her with a sigh. ‘Especially not during the day when anyone might notice.’

In response, she laughed in the deep, throaty way that made heads turn and breeches tighten. After twenty-two years of exposure, he had developed some immunity to it. ‘Might notice? Darling, I made sure that they did. I would much rather that people think I am with you than that they realise what I really get up to on these trips. I doubt some of them could stand the shock.’

Despite himself, he laughed. The movement of his head earned an annoyed grunt from Gibbs, who tossed away the spoiled neckcloth and went to the wardrobe for a replacement.

He took advantage of the respite to turn from the mirror and address her directly. ‘You know that I would never deny sanctuary to a lady in distress, especially when she is my best and oldest friend. But some day, it might be interesting to go on a trip where I do not have to be the last bulwark between you and disgrace.’

She answered with a shrug and a smile, and, as usual, no promise to change in the slightest.

‘Do I want to know who you have been visiting when you are pretending to be with me?’

She shook her head. ‘It is better that you do not. But my liaison will pale in comparison with the scandal about to break at supper tonight.’

‘Do tell,’ he said, taking care not to move as Gibbs began the new knot.

‘The weather today is as bad as it was yesterday, which is to say, only a bit better than last night,’ she said. ‘We shall all be trapped inside until the storm breaks and that could take days.’

‘I am aware of the fact. The room has windows.’ He flicked a glance to the panes which were currently rattling in their frames under pea-sized hail.

‘But today, there have been some surprise additions to the party. A fallen tree in the road caused a carriage accident. The travellers are sheltering here until the weather turns and the vehicle can be repaired.’

He turned to glance over his shoulder, receiving a sigh of frustration from the valet, who tossed the second spoiled cloth aside and picked up another.

‘Since this is not my house, I have no say in the matter. I am told there are forty rooms. It should not matter at all if a few more people come here.’

‘The stranded guests are Mrs Prescott and her daughter.’

Now, it felt like the valet was knotting the cloth tight enough to strangle him and Benedict tugged it away, tossing it down to lie with its fellow before turning to face Lenore. ‘Which Prescott?’

‘The only one that matters,’ she replied, eyes flashing with amusement as she waited for his response.

He had no right to be annoyed. If she had not come to give him a warning, he might have ended up facing a dinner table full of people eager to dissect his reaction at the first sight of his former fiancée. And a fine show he would have given them had he come upon her unawares. Even with advance notice, his initial desire was to curse aloud, his second to run screaming into the rain and try to avoid the meeting that awaited him in the dining room.

Instead, he took a deep breath and apologised to Gibbs. Then, he held a finger in the air to warn Lenore of the need for silence. He ignored her expectant expression and stood stock-still until the valet had completed his work.

He was being foolish. He was used to scrutiny. His title was so old that he tended to be the ranking peer at most any gathering and he had come into it when he was still a boy. It was not unusual to feel all eyes in the room upon him, especially when he was travelling with Lenore.

But his friendship with her was old news. Though people tended to suspect the worst about them, they did not dare to voice their theories aloud. A meeting with Abigail Prescott was another matter entirely.

‘It has been long enough since the incident that I doubt anyone will even remember,’ he lied, as Gibbs gave his coat a final brushing.

‘Do not be naive,’ she said with a soft laugh. ‘It has been barely three months since she left you standing alone at the altar in St George’s. I was in the parlour when the other guests learned of her arrival and the room fairly hummed with the desire to gossip.’ She gave a modest bow of her head. ‘I came here so as not to inhibit them.’

He gave her a sour smile. ‘You might have remained and prevented it.’

‘Only delayed it, I am sure.’ She shrugged. ‘If I do not allow them some liberties, they will take to avoiding me so they might talk about you in peace.’

‘You are willing to sacrifice my reputation for the sake of your own popularity.’

‘As I have always done. You have been telling me since we first began going about together that you did not care what people thought of you.’ She touched a hand to her ample bosom and gave a dramatic sigh. ‘My reputation was your main concern. What would the world think of me, that I was so much in your company?’ Her hand dropped to her side and she looked at him, eyebrow raised. ‘It is a surprise to find your chivalry failing just when things are becoming interesting.’

‘I was young and foolish back then,’ he replied. ‘Not that I regret it, of course,’ he added, for in truth he did not.

‘But you did not think through the repercussions,’ she added. ‘Nor did you imagine that you would be trapped at a house party with me and your betrothed.’

‘My former betrothed,’ he said firmly. Then he attempted a joke to change the subject. ‘And I chose to keep company with you because I assumed that, eventually, you would see the error of your ways and accept my proposal.’

‘Silly boy.’ She smiled fondly. ‘My opinion has not changed in all the years we have been together. We did not suit then. We do not suit now.’

‘Not as you did with your first husband,’ he agreed.

‘I did not suit him, either.’ She laughed.

‘But I could not imagine a better union than one between two friends,’ Benedict insisted.

‘You could not?’ She arched her eyebrow again. ‘Having tried it, I can assure you, there is more to marriage than that. You need a woman who will give you a son.’

He frowned. ‘I thought I had found one.’ He could still remember his first glimpse of Abigail Prescott’s flashing dark eyes and serene smile. One meeting was all that had been necessary to decide him. In less than a week, they had been engaged. ‘It was all arranged.’

‘And then she jilted you.’ Lenore did not exactly chortle, but there was a distinct lack of sympathy in her tone.

‘I gave her no reason.’ He was still not sure what had changed her mind.

‘Now that she is here, you must ask her.’

He frowned, wishing she would drop a subject that was embarrassing enough without additional commentary.

‘You have made no effort to speak to her, thus far,’ she reminded him. ‘It is time you did.’

‘Since we are not married, you have no power to nag me into doing things I do not wish to.’ Not even when she was right. His childish infatuation for Abigail Prescott had been accompanied by equally childish anger at her rejection. Perhaps she was in love with another. Perhaps the responsibilities involved in elevation to Duchess were too daunting.

Or perhaps she simply did not like him.

But she could have been polite enough to inform him of the fact in person or in writing before the actual ceremony. He had thought it wonderfully brazen when she’d threated her own father with a public scene. But it had been another thing entirely when she had pulled the same trick on him without the courtesy of a warning. If she did not want to marry him, then he had no intention of chasing after her to beg for a reason. If the girl was a harpy in the making, then their failed wedding had been not so much an embarrassment as a reprieve. If she could treat him thus before the wedding, then their marriage would not have been the peaceful union he sought. It would be misery from start to finish.

As the days turned into months, he had decided the less he thought about her, the happier he was likely to be. Now she had appeared out of nowhere to destroy what small amount of peace he had managed to regain. But that did not mean he would give her the satisfaction of seeing him hurt. Having witnessed the results of unfettered emotion in his family, he would not give her the satisfaction of seeing him lose control.

He stared into the mirror, pretending to admire the beautifully tied cravat to show how little this supposed crisis mattered to him. Then he turned to Lenore. ‘If she wished to ruin her reputation by crying off, it was not my business to ask why. Nor do I mean to offer her any more than I already have. If a dukedom is not enough to get her to the altar, I cannot imagine what she expects.’

‘It could have been nothing more than fear on her part,’ Lenore said in a gentle voice. ‘You can be quite intimidating when you set your mind to it.’

He laughed. ‘Do you think I bullied her into marrying me? She is lucky that I took her on at all. With a philandering drunk for a father and a social-climbing cit for a mother, her family pedigree was not likely to gain her an offer as good as mine.’

‘It did not seem to bother you at the time,’ Lenore replied. After a lifetime’s acquaintance, she could look through him like an empty glass.

‘And it does not bother me now,’ he insisted. His last comment had sounded like the petulant outburst of a man who cared far too much. ‘If you wish to know the truth of her motives, you will have to ask her yourself. When I see the girl, I mean to treat her in a civil manner to prove there are no hard feelings on my part. But I am not going to beg for an answer, nor will I be goaded into a public confrontation for the amusement of the crowd.’

Her lips formed an ‘O’ of astonishment and she looked ready to question him further. He had few secrets from Lenore, but friendship did not entitle her to pick through the remnants of his heart like a rag bin. ‘Gibbs, please see Lady Beverly out. If she spends another minute meddling in affairs which do not concern her, she will not have time to dress for dinner.’

His valet went to the door, opened and stood respectfully to the side and gave Lenore the patient look that servants used when forced to obey commands that were not likely to go well.

Lenore looked between master and servant, then laughed. ‘Putting me out?’ She rose from the bed as gracefully as she had taken to it. ‘You have never done that before.’ Then she swept past him and through the door, turning to leave a parting shot. ‘This will be an interesting—’

At Benedict’s signal, the door closed before she could complete the sentence.