Chasing Benedict (The Gentleman Courtesans Book 5)

by Victoria Vale

  “Have you seen him?”

  “Twice since my return. He doesn’t want to see or speak to me, and I cannot say I can blame him.”

  “Neither can I,” Aubrey stated, though there was no malice behind it. “I do not blame you for your choice. Ben does, but he doesn’t know what I know. You were placed in an impossible situation.”

  “You never told him?”

  “You trusted me to keep your confidence.”

  Alex wasn’t certain whether to be relieved to hear this, or disappointed. On the one hand, if Ben had known the reason Alex had been forced to marry Katherine, he might have understood. He might have gone on with his life knowing that Alex hadn’t left him for lack of love or devotion, but to protect him. But then, Ben was known for his obstinacy and willpower. He would have tried putting a stop to the wedding, insisting that anything could be overcome as long as they were together. And Alex, weak, romantic fool that he was, would have been powerless to resist. Ben would be far worse off than he was now as a result.

  “What happened after I left London?” Alex asked. “Ben is angry with me, but there’s more to it than that, I can feel it. He’s changed.”

  “He has,” Aubrey agreed. “As far as what went on once you were gone … I’m sorry, Alex, but I cannot divulge that. Ben’s story isn’t mine to tell. I want the two of you to make amends, and am willing to help in whatever way I can. If you want me to try to talk to him and smooth the way for you, I am perfectly willing to do that, but … don’t ask me to reveal things he would prefer to keep to himself. I promised to keep your confidence, but I also promised Ben the same. I owe him that much after all he has done for me.”

  “I understand,” Alex said, though he couldn’t help but feel disappointed. He had been hoping for any insight into Ben’s state of mind, any information that could help get through to him.

  As if having plucked his thoughts out of thin air, Aubrey leaned in, gaze intently locked with Alex’s. “I can tell you that he wouldn’t be so angry if he didn’t still feel something for you. If you can withstand his anger in the beginning without faltering, you can get through to him. That is one thing that has remained the same.”

  It wasn’t much, but Alex would accept that. It had never occurred to him that when it came to Ben, heated fury was better than cold apathy. If Ben could be made to feel rage, he could also feel affection and desire. Those emotions were still there somewhere, however deeply they had been buried.

  “Thank you,” he murmured before finishing off what was left of his brandy. “I don’t intend to give up, and will remain in London as long as it takes.”

  “Good,” Aubrey replied. “Then I can expect to see you fairly often? Perhaps for dinner as Lucy proposed.”

  Alex chuckled. “Most certainly.” Catching sight of the array of newspapers resting at the corner of the desk, Alex gestured toward them. “May I?”

  Neatly stacking a mess of documents at his elbow, Aubrey nodded. “Of course.”

  Flipping through crisp copies of the usual papers, Alex frowned when he noticed one that was unfamiliar to him. “The London Gossip? Aubrey, I never took you for being interested in ton scandals and such.”

  Aubrey’s mouth drew tight, his expression changing from open and inviting to shuttered in a matter of seconds. “I’m not … not really. But the woman who writes that paper has been known to print unflattering things about me in her columns—Lucy as well. It’s simply good sense to keep up with what she’s printing and consider how it can affect business.”

  Alex scowled while skimming reports of debutantes who had ruined their marriage prospects with scandalous behaviors, gentlemen who had blown fortunes at the gaming tables, and a running list of impending marriages and births. There was even a betting guide for those who might wish to wager on any of the happenings of high society: whether a duchess might bear her husband a son or daughter, if a betrothal would be called off before the wedding, if the mistress of a viscount would be set aside after he was married.

  “By Jove, she sounds like a right harpy,” he muttered. “In one section she complains that the vice of gambling is ruining the society gentleman, but in the next she prints a betting guide.”

  “She is both a harpy and a hypocrite,” Aubrey replied, the words laced with disgust. “But you know how high society thrives on gossip. That’s the most popular scandal sheet in town.”

  A certain column caught Alex’s eye, and he quickly read a report concerning Ben’s recent activities. “It says here that Ben has a mistress. Some dowager countess.”

  Aubrey made a low sound of amusement from his throat. “A pretense, and a rather effective one. Matchmaking mamas steer their daughters clear of him, thinking him a rake. The courtesans keep their distance as Celeste is said to have quite the hold over him. She’s a friend, and has her reasons for going along with the charade.”

  It made sense, though it struck Alex as something Ben would never have done in the past. His irreverence meant he didn’t give a fig what anyone thought of him, and didn’t need pretense of any kind to explain why he wasn’t married or never seen in the company of women. Perhaps more had changed in Alex’s absence than he’d thought.

  “I see. This Gossip woman certainly seems to dislike Ben. She is almost detached when writing about others, but seems to have reserved a great deal of animosity for Ben. Have you any idea what that’s about?”

  “Not in the slightest.” Aubrey sounded bored as he stood and stretched. “Who can pretend to know the mind of a woman like her? Enough about that. Come, I want to show you the expansion on the shop and our new renovations. Then, I have some fabrics I think you will like in the storeroom. No one else has purchased them yet, so you will make quite a splash should you choose to wear one.”

  The abrupt change of subject puzzled Alex, but then Aubrey must be used to this gossip columnist's peculiarities. Alex was only so curious because his distance from London had kept him in the dark about such matters. Not one to pay much attention to idle gossip, he was willing to let the matter drop.

  He followed Aubrey out into the shop, noticing that Kit was busy charming a female patron over a tray of fastenings and other baubles. Two young apprentices were busy tidying the shop, while a pair of gentlemen browsed a display of gloves.

  The expansion of Aubrey’s shop became more impressive now that Alex allowed himself to really take it in. Rowland-Drake had gone from a small establishment in Cheapside, to a luxurious, sprawling place in the West End.

  Alex could hardly fathom it, when he’d known the shop to be heavily in debt and on the brink of failure just three years ago. Curiosity niggled, but he ignored it. Despite their closeness and long friendship, Alex drew the line at probing questions about another man’s finances.

  An hour later, he had purchased five different waistcoat fabrics and the buttons to embellish them, a pair of gloves, two mufflers, a hat, embroidered stockings, and burgundy broadcloth for a new coat. His valet would swoon over the new pieces once they were commissioned, and Alex couldn’t deny a little thrill at adding to his already expansive wardrobe. There were so many things about himself he had to keep hidden, but his clothing could always serve as an expression of who he was. His unconventional style often drew stares and murmurs, but no one was ever bold enough to call him out for going against the austere color palette and constricting modes of men’s fashion as dictated by those whose opinions meant nothing to him. It always amused him to see younger men emulating his fashions, sporting yellow-dyed cravats and brightly-colored waistcoats, and patterened stockings—a sure reminder that being an earl came with all manner of influence.

  Deep down, he wrestled with the appropriateness of his attire as well as his purchases. Katherine had been gone for just over six months now, and as a man he was freer to shed deep mourning than a widow would be. When guilt plagued Alex, he reminded himself that Katherine would have wanted him to dress like himself again. She had loved helping him select his garments, and seeing him m
iserable and unable to explore his passion for clothing would have saddened her. Besides, continuing to wear mourning would have only reminded Ben that he’d had a wife—by far the sorest point of contention between them.

  Aubrey followed him to his carriage, his apprentices following behind with the wrapped parcels. They had just been handed off to the footman, when another carriage pulled up behind his, followed by a hackney coach.

  Every hair on Alex’s body stood on end as he recognized the Sterling family crest emblazoned on the door. He could only stand there holding his breath in anticipation as the footman opened the vehicle to reveal Ben, who fit a hat over his bright blond locks while stepping out, a stark black greatcoat swirling around his ankles. Alex felt as if he’d been punched in the gut when those electric blue eyes landed on him, flaring with recognition first, then heat. An answering need sparked within him, making it damned hard to keep from crossing the distance between them and planting his lips on Ben’s.

  Ben’s expression hardened in an instant, eyes going blank as if a pair of shutters had been slammed closed over them. He looked to Aubrey. “Are you busy at the moment? Lyons and I need a word.”

  Alex noticed the man who had emerged from the hackney for the first time. He wasn’t nearly Alex’s height, but taller than average and slender, with dark hair pulled back in an unfashionable but flattering queue. His eyes were a light, honeyed shade of brown and his features were pleasing but sharp and cold, his lips drawn tight.

  Who was this Lyons fellow, and what was his relationship to Ben and Aubrey? It was ridiculous to be jealous, and he had no right to be annoyed at the thought of Ben having a lover. There was no sense of secrecy or intimacy between them, but Alex had a feeling Lyon wouldn’t let it show if there were. The man had a stoic face, unlike anything Alex had ever seen.

  “Not at all,” Aubrey replied, though there was a questioning note in his voice. He was looking from Alex to Ben with unease in his eyes. “The lads and I were just carrying out these packages. Lord Vautrey, this is an associate of myself and Ben, Mr. Lyons. Lyons, this is an old schoolmate of ours, Lord Vautrey.”

  Lyons offered him a stiff bow. “My lord.”

  “A pleasure,” Alex replied, studying the man closely, then looking to Ben. As looks went, he was certainly Ben’s type—dark-haired, tall and broad without being too bulky. He even seemed to share Ben’s surly disposition.

  Alex told himself he was being ridiculous. If Ben had a sweetheart, Aubrey would have told him. Besides, even if he did, Alex could not be put off. Anyone standing between him and Ben would be pushed aside.

  “We will wait in your office,” Ben declared before sweeping past Alex and disappearing inside without a look back.

  Mr. Lyons followed, leaving him alone with Aubrey. Alex’s questioning look wasn’t answered verbally, and just as he had in the office, he had the sense that Aubrey was holding something back. There was nothing unusual about three men meeting in a place of business during the day, but Alex’s instincts couldn’t be ignored. Something was going on, and curiosity over it was eating him alive.

  “Perhaps we could have dinner this evening?” Aubrey said suddenly, as if what had just occurred was of no consequence.

  “I am otherwise engaged tonight—a ball at the Duke and Duchess of Avonleah’s house. There will be gossip if I’m not there.”

  “Tomorrow, then? I have a friend I would like you to meet, and he’s currently in town.”

  “Tomorrow it is. Thank you, Aubrey.”

  They clasped hands, and Aubrey tightened his grip before Alex could pull away. “I hope things work out in your favor, Alex. For what it’s worth, I believe it would be good for Ben as well as for you.”

  Alex took those final words and locked them away, bolstering his will. Tonight, he would attend the infernal ball and endure sympathetic glances and condolences from people he barely knew. Tomorrow, he would resume his mission.

  Chapter 4

  “The Duke and Duchess of A are hosting a ball this evening in their lavish Grosvenor Square home. This author will be in attendance, so those who intend to be present would should remain on their best behavior, lest you find yourselves the subject of tomorrow’s column.”

  -The London Gossip, 26 January 1820

  “I take it you’ve called this meeting because The London Gossip is back in circulation,” Aubrey said, once he, Benedict, and Warin were shuttered away inside the office. Beyond the door, Lucinda had taken over helping Kit and the apprentices service an afternoon rush of customers.

  Benedict hated to interrupt his friend’s work, but Aubrey would have no livelihood if their involvement with the Gentleman Courtesans was publicly revealed. As far as he was concerned, nothing was more important than stopping that consequence at all costs.

  “My scheme to stop her distribution was never going to be permanent,” Benedict replied I only did it to buy some time.”

  “Time for what?” Warin asked, his voice low and somber. The man had the austere presence of an undertaker, but made a fine apprentice. Once business had become more than he could handle on his own, Benedict had taken Warin under his wing and taught him the ins and outs of his operation. Warin had become Benedict’s right hand, an extension of him that could be trusted to act in the best interest of the men in their employ.

  “To discover her identity,” Benedict murmured. “I knew once I had that information, it could be used to silence her. With the things she’s written about the members of the ton, she’s made enemies out of many influential people—present company included.”

  “And have you?” Aubrey prodded, leaning in over the desk in anticipation. “Discovered her identity?”

  “I have.”

  Silence descended among the three men, the muffled voices from the shop penetrating the office door. Aubrey looked shocked, while Warin’s face remained a blank slate.

  “Her name is Cynthia Milbank. Aubrey, the name will be familiar to you.”

  Aubrey’s goggled at Benedict as if he’d been struck by lightning. “Miss Milbank? Are you certain?”

  “I wasn’t at first, but there was something too familiar about her. Millicent confirmed it. It’s her.”

  Warin darted a puzzled look at Benedict. “Would either of you care to enlighten me as to just who this woman is and why she’s doing this?”

  “She was Benedict’s fiancée for a short time,” Aubrey offered.

  For the first time, Warin’s expression faltered, clear surprise registering on his face. He knew of Benedict’s preference and had never judged him for it.

  “It was an arrangement made by our fathers,” Benedict said with a shrug. “No one involved wanted it, but my father found it necessary. He assumed marriage would reform me.”

  “He also assumed you would go through with it,” Aubrey said with a derisive snort. “It’s almost as if he doesn’t know you at all.”

  “Oh, he knows me,” Benedict spat. “He simply doesn’t care. He is determined to have his way, regardless of what anyone else wants.”

  “What happened?” Warin asked. “Since you are still unwed, I’m assuming she cried off.”

  “She didn’t,” Benedict replied. “I did.”

  Warin’s stoic expression had been completely obliterated by now. While not born of the beau monde, Warin’s connections to people such as Benedict had taught him the various faux pas that could bring a man to ruin. He knew as well as Benedict and Aubrey that it was the height of incivility for a man to end an engagement—one that could lead to him being shunned from polite society.

  “Dear God,” Warin said with a shake of his head. “It’s no wonder your reputation is such shite.”

  “Indeed,” Benedict said. “I refused to go through with the marriage, and no one could make me—not my father, not Mr. Milbank, not Cynthia.”

  “I think it’s safe to say we now know why her writings about you are so venomous,” Aubrey remarked. “During your engagement, did she happen to discover the trut
h of your … inclinations?”

  “That, I do not know. It is my belief that she’s angry that I jilted her and out for revenge. She started out with a vendetta against the Gentleman Courtesans, which comes as no surprise to me. The Milbanks are merchant class social-climbers looking for status and prestige, which they thought to gain through marriage. Cynthia was always such a haughty little chit, looking down on those she thought were beneath her due to their immorality.”

  “How did she come to learn that you were the proprietor of the agency?” Warin asked.

  “I cannot say,” Benedict replied. “However she learned the truth, she has intensified her efforts against all of us … because of me.”

  “This isn’t your fault,” Aubrey insisted.

  “It sort of is his fault,” Warin said under his breath.

  Benedict snorted a laugh. “I take full responsibility for bringing her wrath upon us. Which is why it falls to me to end this.”

  “What are you going to do?” Aubrey asked.

  “Millicent is obtaining my invitation to a ball hosted by the Duke and Duchess of Avonleah. I have it on good authority that Cynthia will be there. I intend to confront her … discreetly, of course.”

  Warin frowned. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea. She’s sure to be furious with you for temporarily halting circulation of her paper.”

  “I don’t doubt it,” Benedict said. “But I cannot do this any longer. The last time I encountered Cynthia, she told me she wanted something. I intend to find out what that is.”

  “Do you intend to give it to her?”

  “Not a chance. But if I know what she wants, I have all the control. I can deal with her more effectively. Besides, I need her to know I’m on to her.”

  “What can I do?” Warin asked.

  “I need you to visit every man in our employ in person and tell them to lay low for the time being.”

  “Consider it done. What about those who don’t have keepers at present?”