She stilled at his touch.
Not sure if he’d alarmed her, Ben paused. “You have some mud right here.” He dabbed at her cheek and near her eyes. “And here.”
Her silver blue gaze held him captive, burning into him with the same wonderment creeping into his own heart. In that moment, he felt as though they were the only two people on Earth. They had stumbled into a place where no one else existed and nothing else mattered.
There was no forest. No sky. No stream.
Just the two of them and this sensation.
Ben smoothed a spot at the corner of her eye with his thumb.
He wanted to kiss her.
As though she read his mind, her lips parted. Was her heart beating as rapidly as his?
“Miss Claire!” a high-pitched female voice broke the spell, dragging Ben out of his trance. “Miss Claire, where have you gone off to?”
Miss Dubois blinked in surprise and stepped back. Her gaze dropped to the ground. She looked everywhere but at him. “My thanks for rescuing Elmer,” she rasped. “I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to him.”
Warm honey spread through his veins at her admission. He’d managed to garner her favor.
And he wanted it. He wanted this chit’s favor.
Only, he’d lied to her about who he was. He wasn’t a baron. He wasn’t even gentry.
With a sinking heart, he offered his arm and led her back to the road, where her coachman had apparently just returned with a replacement carriage and two workmen who were already examining the broken wheel.
Chapter Three
Tingles
Claire swallowed the large lump lodged in her throat.
When he’d touched her, something inside her had recognized his heart—his soul. Her brother had always told her she was too fanciful—too silly in her romantic ideas. But in that moment, everything she’d ever believed about love became real.
The manner in which he’d caressed the streak of mud from her face, so gentle, as though he were afraid she’d break apart. She could almost imagine his eyes as a hot blue flame.
A gentleman with fire in his eyes. Who knew such a creature existed?
When they arrived back at the road, Coachman John was talking to two workers he’d brought back with him, and Dolores was packing the picnic basket into the newly arrived replacement carriage. It was not as luxurious as the one her brother had provided, but it did have four functioning wheels.
“Miss Claire! What have you done to your dress?” Dolores went into hysterics upon seeing the state Elmer’s flight had imprinted upon her mistress.
Claire dropped Lord Jester’s arm and immediately mourned the loss of their connection. Flustered, she tried swiping the mud off her gown.
A useless endeavor, indeed.
And her shoes. Argh! Ruined.
As she bent over, her hair tumbled around her, having apparently lost a few hairpins in her headlong flight to save Elmer. Claire reached up and tried to repair the braid, but it was no use. Instead, she smoothed it with her fingers.
As she did so, a tingling worked its way up her spine. Unable to ignore the sensation, she glanced over her shoulder.
His eyes blazed with a hunger that ought to have frightened her.
But it did not. His look merely reflected some of her own emotions as she noted Lord Jester’s stance. Powerful and protective.
He stood almost a full head taller than her, watchful and ready to defend her.
From what, she wondered?
Dolores arrived at her side and immediately began twisting Claire’s hair into a knot at the back of her head.
Claire realized then that the workmen had stopped to stare at her, as well.
“Elmer ran off,” Claire explained to Dolores. “Across the stream. I was afraid he’d try to drown himself and, well…” She gestured down at her clothing.
“Ruined, Miss Claire! Oh and your poor slippers. I doubt I can do anything to repair them.” Dolores attempted to drag Claire away from Lord Jester, but Claire couldn’t leave him just yet. She needed to say goodbye. She needed to know that she might see him again. She needed to touch him…remind herself that this window in time had not been a dream.
She needed to…
But Claire Dubois did not exist. She’d pretended gentility, rather unsuccessfully, she admitted to herself.
What would he think if he knew her true background? Would he dismiss her as beneath him? He did not seem to be a mercenary person. He’d seemed…kind. Genuine. He’d seemed to be a man of character.
How did she know any of this? She did not. But she’d felt something. Inside.
Inside her heart.
Dolores tugged at her. “A moment, Dolly.” Claire shook herself free of her maid’s hands. “I’ll join you in a moment.”
Dolores scowled, but then she brushed her hands as if washing them and threw them above her head. “It will be a miracle if we ever get there!”
Dolores’s impatience didn’t bother Claire. She’d grown used to her maid’s tendency to complain.
Instead, she focused her attention on Lord Jester. Should she admit to having lied about her name? Should she tell him who she really was? Likely, if she did, his gaze would transform from charming and beguiled to disgust.
Perhaps it would be best to leave this moment in the past. A delightful, romantic memory.
She set Elmer on the ground with a firm warning and then turned to face this gentleman who would remain something of a dream.
He glanced at her sideways while combing one hand through his hair. Which caused her to realize…
“You lost your hat.”
His brows rose in surprise, but he smiled. “And you lost your hair pins.”
If she were a lady, this would nearly ruin her, but he didn’t say anything of the like.
She enjoyed looking at him without his hat. His golden hair gleamed in the sunlight, and she noticed tiny wrinkles forming around the corners of his eyes. He looked closer to thirty than twenty. But his demeanor seemed youthful and a little devil-may-care.
“It appears we are to complete our journey in a new conveyance.” She did her best to sound matter of fact despite the disappointment setting in at losing him.
Silly thought. As though she ever had him.
She barely knew him. He was a stranger.
“I…” he began. He ran that hand through his hair again and then looked off in the distance. When he turned his head to meet her eyes again, his smile resembled more of a wince. “It has been my pleasure to make your acquaintance.” Claire noticed his finger fidgeting with that button again.
Elmer took the chance to bridge the distance between the two of them and lick at Lord Jester’s boots. “Oh, Elmer!” Claire dashed forward and scooped the disobedient dog back into her arms. She did not step back when she rose, however, and found herself standing only inches from him. When she tilted her head back, she could see his individual eye lashes, the short hairs of his beard. His pupils grew, and his nostrils flared.
For the first time in her life, she felt like a woman. She felt like a woman because she knew in that moment Lord Jester wanted to kiss her. And not in a casual, lackluster manner. He wanted to kiss her based on some primal need.
Time stopped, as though they were in a duel, awaiting the count down so that either of them could move.
“Miss Dubois,” he spoke her name on a whisper.
And then Elmer began licking below her chin. “Elmer!” she breathed his name in dismay, breaking the moment. She stepped back, as did Lord Jester, who cleared his throat and shuttered the expression she’d seen only seconds before. “I hope the remainder of your journey passes without further incident.”
Claire could have cried. Darn Elmer!
Except. What had she expected?
“I’m certain it will.” She was surprised her voice still functioned. Dolores awaited her. John would be impatient. The time had come to walk away from him.
She met t
hose brilliant blue eyes one last time. She needed to bid him farewell.
He dipped his head. “Farewell then, Miss Dubois.”
“Claire.” She wanted to hear her own name on his lips.
A tender smile crossed his lips. “Claire.”
“Farewell to you, Lord—”
“Benjamin,” he corrected.
“Benjamin.” She savored his given name. At least she had this. Something to dream of when she’d passed the age of romance. A chance meeting. A mysterious lord.
Named Benjamin.
He tipped his head one last time and began stepping backward, toward his horse, which stood patiently awaiting him.
Then, in the flash of an instant, he sprang into the saddle proudly. With a wave of his hand, he was off.
She watched him ride away for several seconds before reluctantly dragging herself over to the replacement carriage.
“Lord Jester!” Dolores scoffed after Claire settled herself on the backward facing bench with Elmer. “He was quite the jester, all right.”
Claire narrowed her eyes at the other woman’s disgusted expression. “What do you mean?”
“Oh, Miss Claire, he’s no more a baron than I’m the queen. Lord Jester, indeed.”
But.
But.
He wouldn’t lie to her! Surely not? He’d been dressed fashionably, and even she could see he rode upon a valuable mount.
“You’re wrong, Dolly.” Claire set her lips firmly. “He was a most honorable gentleman.” She wouldn’t allow her maid to tarnish her memory of the Baron of Jester. In fact, she’d find him listed in Debrett's and prove it. Yes, that’s exactly what she’d do.
Then she’d show Dolores that she was as good a judge of character as anybody.
As they neared Elysian Fields, the Fairchilds’ legendary estate, Claire regretted the romantic tragedy she’d created. She wished she’d been more forthcoming. Even the possibility of meeting him again, the possibility that he would not be dissuaded by her humble origins, would have been better than knowing she’d never meet him again.
Even if such an opportunity did present itself, he’d know that she’d lied.
Drat and damnation.
He’d almost kissed her, she was certain of it.
****
The blonde bundle of energy embraced her tightly as soon as the door opened. “I’m so glad Ethan allowed you to escape society to come visit!”
The friendship between Amy Fairchild and Claire had been practically preordained at birth. Amy’s father owned several of the companies that Claire’s brother used in his shipping endeavors, and they’d been thrown together inadvertently on numerous occasions.
Besides proximity, their unusual upbringings, like lifestyles and prospects, provided them both with more than a little in common.
Although Claire had made several attempts to befriend debutantes near her age within the ton, she’d met with little success. Those who deigned to converse with Claire either had their sights set on Ethan or had possessed some other ulterior motive. Claire had little reason to trust in such overtures of friendship. So, she reserved all of her anecdotes, hopes and fears to share with Amy, who Claire considered to be her very best friend.
“I didn’t give my brother a choice,” Claire boasted. “I had to come. He’s done nothing but present a long line of lords who are short on blunt. After being found wanting by Lord Pringle, I gave Ethan no choice but to allow me to leave.” While speaking, she couldn’t help thinking about Lord Jester and wondering when she’d get a chance to take a look at Amy’s copy of Debrett's.
Any respectable miss kept herself quite familiar with the well-known directory.
“Bully for you.” Amy’s soft brown eyes showed understanding sympathy. Her father wanted the same for her but seemed to have given up when she ran away rather than marry an elderly Viscount he’d landed for her.
“Where is everyone?” Claire had expected the mansion at Elysium Fields to be bursting at the seams already. Mr. Fairchild had amassed a fortune most dukes drooled over.
Amy squeezed her shoulders and led her toward the U-shaped staircase. “Guests have only just begun arriving today.” And then with an apologetic tone, “I feel it only fair to tell you now. Father invited the Peabodys, and the younger brother arrived earlier this afternoon. I know how Ethan feels about them. He’d have an apoplexy, I’m sure, if he knew father invited them.”
Claire made a face. “How would Ethan discover something like that?”
To which Amy raised her brows. “You know as well as I the speed at which gossip travels. Everyone knows your brother is arch enemies with the Peabodys. I imagine more than one set of eyes will be watching your reaction to him.”
“Why would I have any sort of reaction to him? If he’s Ethan’s enemy, then he is mine, as well.”
“Er, yes, well. I’ll admit to you that if he didn’t already treat me like a younger sister, I’d set my cap for him.”
“Hm…” Claire stopped to study her friend carefully. “Good looking then?”
Amy only ever liked the terribly good-looking ones. It was why she could never countenance any of the gentlemen her father brought around. Lorded gentlemen often lacked such admirable characteristics.
“You’ll see for yourself this evening. Now come along and tell me all about what happened with Lord Pringle, the bounder.” Amy was just the person Claire needed. Except…
“I met somebody today,” she began. “Our Coach broke down, as you know, and the most distracting gentleman came along. The Baron of Jester. Have you an acquaintance?”
Amy scrunched her nose. “I’ve never heard of the title.” She slid her eyes sideways toward Claire. “How did you know he really was a baron? Do you think it possible he lied? I mean really, the Baron of Jester? Surely he jests.” She laughed at her own joke.
Claire shook her head adamantly. “He could not have been lying, Amy. His dress, his bearing. Oh, but he was splendid. Blond hair. And his eyes… Oh, Amy. I absolutely lost myself in them. The color of blue flame. He… I…” Claire stumbled on her words. How could she describe the feelings she’d had for a man she’d only known for perhaps all of half an hour? “I’ll admit to falling a little in love with him.”
“Oh, Claire!” Amy was smiling and laughing. A devilish smile danced on her lips. “Did he mention where his estate was?”
Claire’s smile fell. “Up north somewhere. I’m afraid it’s unlikely I’ll meet him again. And I did not tell him my true name. I didn’t want him to see me as a plump dowry… You understand, I know… But it was just so…well… He was the sort of gentleman a girl dreams about.”
Amy patted her arm and chuckled. “One never knows, my friend, perhaps dreams can come true.” She patted her again. “Sometimes in the most unexpected ways.”
“Now who is being fanciful?” Claire did not want to keep such hopes alive so she changed the subject. “I need out of this gown, though. Dolores wiped most of the mud off, but I feel positively sticky all over!”
“You’ve brought some new fashions with you, I hope? We’re going to have a marvelous time.” And then she laughed. “Positively marvelous.”
Chapter Four
Surprise
Benjamin could not change out of his dusty attire until Chumley arrived with his baggage carriage later that evening, so he settled on taking a washcloth to his person and clothing instead.
All the while, a certain brown-haired, silver-eyed minx resided rather persistently in his thoughts. He ought to have told her the truth. Revealed his true identity to her.
If she was the person he wanted to believe she was, then his status in society would not have mattered.
When Ben wanted something, he usually got it. Why should this be any different?
Why indeed? Because the one thing he had no control of was the origin of his birth, his background, his utter lack of gentility.
Whatever type of title her father held, regardless, her parents would no
t be pleased to marry their daughter, a lady, off to a scoundrel such as himself.
Unless they were in need of funds…
Ben suppressed a desire to punch the brocaded wall. This was not his own home, after all, and he wasn’t an utter brute. Nonetheless, as he tied his own cravat, he made the decision to discover more about Miss Claire Dubois. Their meeting had sparked something inside of him, something he was unwilling to abandon without further investigation.
Clem had sent Ben to the Fairchilds’ house party in order to renegotiate their current contract. Damned Ethan Dorrill had lowered prices again, and if Ben and Clem wished to remain competitive, they needed to increase efficiencies on their end.
This was not Ben’s first visit to Elysium Fields. As prestigious and elegant as any member of the aristocracy’s, Fairchild’s country estate gleamed like a diamond among stones. It beckoned would-be guests with not only elaborate Georgian architectural features and fashionable furnishing, but modern luxuries such as hot and cold running water and flushable water closets.
Fairchild’s penchant for business had served his family well. Of course, just as Ben and Clem experienced, they would always find themselves looked over for not being born into the gentry.
Damned British tradition.
Having visited often, Ben knew precisely where Fairchild kept his finest scotch, and so he made his way confidently toward the library.
The scent of lemon oil and fresh flowers lingered pleasantly along the length of the hallway, reminding Ben that such details would make a nice touch for his own townhouse. He might have been born common, but he appreciated the finer things money could provide.
Food. Drink.
Would a bit of refinement be enough to get him past Miss Dubois’ family?
He pushed away the thought. Nothing he could do about it while here, after all.
Muffled voices increased in volume as he neared the library. Obviously, he was not the only person in search of entertainment and spirits.
Ben recognized most of the guests mingling, holding glasses as they drifted past the shelves and heavy furniture—members of the nouveau riche. A few teetered on the brink of the demi-monde.
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