by Kelly Boyce
His hand came up to cover hers, his fingers absently caressing the back of her hand. “I do know. My father had an uncanny way of always landing on his feet, no matter what you threw his way. And he did it all with a smile. I swear, he was the happiest man I have ever known.”
The stories Benedict’s sister and mother had told her of Roderick Laytham bore these facts out. But the reason behind his happiness had always been rooted in his love for his wife and children. Perhaps if Benedict found this as well, he would stand a chance at recovering the happiness he had once known.
But how could he do such if he must continue to struggle to get his feet under him? At least a rich bride—such a loathsome thought—would provide him a leg up in that regard. Something she could never give him. All she could give him was now, this moment, this night.
“Perhaps I shall endeavor to make you happy while I can. Would you like that?”
His smile returned and the pain in his gaze receded, though did not disappear entirely. Judith leaned up on her elbow and pressed her lips to his. His hand sank into her hair and pulled her closer until her body covered his and his growing erection pressed against her. It took little effort to stoke the embers of their earlier passion into a raging fire and soon enough Benedict rolled her onto her back and filled her until they lost themselves in each other once again. Judith gave herself over to him, to the oblivion their lovemaking created, to the hours they had left together to create memories to carry for a lifetime.
Chapter Twenty-Two
“We will marry, of course.”
The words were said in a matter-of-fact way and at first took Judith by surprise. But as the shock wore off, they only served to make her angry. Forcing Benedict into proposing marriage was not her intention when she made the decision to give herself to him. She had not wanted their night together to be about duty or sacrifice. It had been about love. About a moment in time she could tuck away and keep in her heart to comfort her in the years ahead. She did not want those memories stained by him thinking what they had done was something that required fixing. Of course, most of society would consider what they did sinful, but given that none of them were privy to such things, what reason was there for him to trot out such nonsense now? He could not marry her. She understood. She had asked for naught but what he gave last night and expected nothing more beyond that.
“We will not marry,” she answered, her words as plainly spoken as his. She would not rob him of his need to come through for his family, no matter how wrong or misguided it was.
He turned his head to look at her, the sheets rustling beneath the movement. “There is no other option. I understood this going in.”
His claim surprised her, but did not change her mind. He made what they had shared sound like an end. A sacrifice. Whatever warm and wonderful feelings she had woken up with in the morning sunlight dispersed as if dark clouds had slipped into the room unnoticed and snuffed out the light.
“There is another option and I plan to take it. No one knows anything has happened between us and therefore there is no reason for you to throw yourself upon the sacrificial altar on my account.”
“I have ruined you.”
Funny, she did not feel ruined. Nor did she think of what they had shared as ruination. Ruination evoked the sense that something had been destroyed. As if she had been destroyed. She had not. If anything, what they had shared bolstered her strength. At least now, she had a lovely memory to carry with her; one shared with the man she loved.
Or so she believed. Now, however, his words tainted that belief. He had turned what they shared into a duty that now must be dealt with.
“I went into this willingly and do not hold you responsible. Please do not concern yourself with trying to remedy the situation. There is nothing that requires fixing. I will go my way and you will go yours and that will be the end of it.” It was a sad but true fact.
“What if you are with child?”
She really wished he would stop talking.
Benedict turned onto his side to face her, propping his head up with his hand. Sleep had their lovemaking had left his hair mussed and she longed to reach up and put it back to rights, but she refrained. Perhaps five minutes ago, before he had begun this line of conversation she might have, but now a strange tension destroyed the closeness they’d shared.
“Judith?”
She held her tongue and refused to move her gaze from the canopy above. What did he expect her to say? Of course, if she carried his child she would have little choice in the matter. She was willing to risk her own ruination, but not that of her child. Their child. Her fingers twitched where they rested against her flat belly. Could it be?
“If I am with child. But only then.”
“You’re speaking madness. If you do not marry me what hope do you have of marrying at all?”
His question cut into her like a barbed spear, slicing through her tender flesh and embedding itself in her heart. “I thank you for your pointed observation.”
He sighed. “That is not what I meant.”
“But it is true nonetheless.” Because of course, he was right. What hope did she have? What he didn’t understand was that she had never had any hope. She was not the type to attract the kind of gentleman her family wished her to marry. Her first and only Season had been a complete disaster. How she had captured Benedict’s attention remained a mystery. An anomaly not to be repeated.
“Why do you not wish to marry me?”
Judith turned on her side to face him finally. “Why do you wish to marry me?”
“Because we—” He motioned to the bed with his free hand. “What other choice can there be?”
Hardly the romantic declaration she had hoped for. If he had claimed he loved her or that he would give up his fortune for her, perhaps she would be swayed. But he had not. Instead, he spoke of duty, lack of choices, necessity. All the things she wished to save him from.
She turned away and slipped her legs off the edge of the bed. She needed to escape. If she did not, his words would destroy whatever tender memories the night had created and she could not bear that. It was all she had left.
“Judith.” He called her name as a plea. “Come back to bed. We need to discuss this.”
“There is nothing to discuss,” she said, pulling the sheet with her as she went and leaving him laying a top the soft down mattress in all his glory. She refused to let her gaze linger. Instead, she rummaged about the floor for something to cover herself with so she could quickly slip from his room to hers. She found her drawers and pulled them on, then grabbed his shirt and slipped it over her head. The sleeves hung past her hands, its length nearly reaching her knees. It would have to be enough.
“Come back here.” She heard him move and did not hesitate, hurrying to the bedchamber door. Surely, he would not chase her down the hallway undressed. She opened the door and took a quick glance in both directions before bolting down the hallway.
“Judith!” His harsh whisper reached her, but she did not turn around. She couldn’t. There was no going back.
* * *
How could she not agree to marry him? Benedict stared out the window, but saw nothing save the memory of Judith’s shapely rear end as she’d scrounged about the floor for clothing to cover herself with before making her escape down the hallway. A bold move, he would give her that. Why, at this time of the morning, the chances of running into one of the maids readying the house for the day were fairly high. It was that fact alone that kept him from chasing down the hallway after her. If her state of undress had the servants’ tongues wagging, finding the lord of the manor sprinting after her naked as a babe would do nothing to improve matters.
Had any of the servants noticed she’d not slept in her bed last night? Or had she reached her bedchamber before her absence was discovered? If she hadn’t, the servants weren’t talking. At least not yet and he hoped such would continue. He could not afford to have idle gossip leak out to the other houses and destr
oy her reputation.
At least not until she came to her senses and let go of this foolish notion not to marry him.
But what if she didn’t?
The possibility lingered like a bad dream in the back of his mind. When he had asked her to dance, his motives had been pure. Well, perhaps not pure, but he had not intended for things to go as far as they had. Regardless, once they had, he could not dispute the rightness of them being together, despite all the evidence to the contrary.
Mother had been right, as had Abigail. As had his own instincts that had protested from the moment he’d decided to marry for financial gain and not love and companionship. And despite his repeated denial, his instinct on this matter had steadfastly refused to be silenced. The first moment he’d held Judith in his arms, something had stirred inside of him. The more he got to know her, the stronger those feelings became until the truth could no longer be disputed. She was meant for him.
Unless, of course, you asked Judith’s opinion on it, for apparently the idea of marrying him appalled her to such a degree she was willing to sacrifice her reputation to avoid it and would only consider marrying him if she had his baby growing inside of her!
He growled and pushed himself up from his chair by the window to stalk the floor of his study. The woman was obviously mad. What had possessed her to let him take her innocence if she had no intention of accepting his proposal? And why did she act so surprised when he announced they would marry?
Granted, it was not the most romantic of proposals, but were they not past that, given what had transpired last night? He stopped in the middle of the room and let his head fall back as he stared up at the intricate patterns carved into the ceiling. He was a fool. Of course, she deserved a more romantic proposal. He should have professed his feelings. Told her how much he cared about her. Loved her. Needed her.
But bloody hell, was that not implied by the fact he was throwing away any hope of recovering the family fortunes in order to make her his and keep her in his life forever? Was it not enough he was doing the unthinkable and failing his family yet again in order to save her from public scorn and ridicule?
Even if he did not say the perfect words or express himself as he should have, was that reason enough to subject oneself to ruination and public disparagement? Was he to wait until she discovered whether she carried his child and, if not, suffer a second rejection? What kind of man did not make right the situation they found themselves cast into?
Cast into. As if it had happened by accident. It hadn’t. Last night had been the culmination of a passion that had started building the night of Lady Blackbourne’s birthday party, when he had held her in his arms and within moments become captivated by her intelligent observations and kind heart. He had tried to ignore it, avoid it Avoid her. It had all been for naught.
His mother had once warned him this would happen. He’d asked her if she had ever considered remarrying. Father had been gone a decade by then and Mother was still a lovely and vital woman. But she had given him a sad smile and her answer remained fixed in his memory even now.
The heart wants what it wants, my dear. And my heart wants your father. Someday you will know what I mean.”
He hadn’t believed her at the time, but now her words rang true. His heart wanted Judith. It would consider no other. Yet she would not consider him. Where did that leave them?
“My lord?”
Benedict turned to find Titus standing in the doorway of his study. “Yes, Titus, what is it?”
“Lord Ridgemont, my lord. I have put him in the receiving room and requested tea and biscuits be brought.”
Ridgemont? What did he want? To beg forgiveness for the way his family had cast Judith out when she’d tried to do them a good turn? “Very well, Titus. I will be along in a moment. Can you see that Miss Sutherland—”
“Mrs. Feeney has already ensured she is returned to her room for the duration of the marquess’s visit.”
“Thank you, Titus.” No doubt she would dislike being quarantined, but he was not about to have her discovered. He strode down the hallway to the receiving room, taking a calming breath before he entered. There was no point going in angry until the marquess revealed the purpose of his visit.
“Ridgemont.”
His guest turned at the sound of his name. “Glenmor. Good to see you again, old man. I hope it was not an inconvenience, my stopping by unannounced.”
Benedict didn’t answer right away. Ridgemont was nervous. There was an unexpected edge to his voice and a tightness about his eyes. “What can I do for you?”
Ridgemont’s hands flexed at his side, reminding Benedict of the way Judith would tangle her fingers about each other when stressed over something. But what did Ridgemont have to be upset over?
“I expect you have heard of the unfortunate incident with respect to Miss Sutherland’s employment?”
Benedict nodded. “Your great-aunt sacked her. What of it?” He did not bother to keep the curtness from his tone. He had considered Ridgemont to be a good man and that Judith would be kept safe under his roof. Instead, she was cast out without warning or protection. They had not even offered to see her safely home. It was unconscionable.
Ridgemont’s fists tightened. “You have every right to be angry. I was too when I arrived home to find her gone. I have tried to locate her to no avail. I simply wish to ensure her safety and offer to provide her with a proper reference should she require such. I have sent a letter to Havelock Manor, assuming that is where she has gone, but I wish to confirm such and that she arrived safely.”
“That does not explain why you are here.”
Ridgemont raised one eyebrow. “I came here because my driver instructed me this is where he brought her. Was he incorrect?”
Hell and damn. “He was not.” He said nothing more.
“Is she still here? If so, I would like to speak with her.”
Benedict dodged the question with one of his own. “To what end?”
Ridgemont proved equally as evasive. “I do not see what business that is of yours. It is a private matter—”
“I can see no reason for you and Miss Sutherland to share a private matter.”
Anger peaked along the edge of Ridgemont’s prominent cheekbones. “Are you suggesting something inappropriate? I can assure you it is nothing of the sort and I resent the implication. I wish to thank her, nothing more. She revealed something about Lord Pengrin’s character I had not been privy to. Had she not done so, I would have happily agreed to his marriage proposal to my sister and unknowingly consigned her to a life of misery. I had hoped to express my gratitude that she did so, at great peril to her own reputation and to make amends for Lady Dalridge’s behavior.”
Benedict let the words sink in and tried to make sense of them. What information had Judith revealed to cause Ridgemont to withdraw his long-time friendship from Pengrin? Surely, Ridgemont was already aware of the man’s love of the gaming tables, it was hardly a secret, although perhaps the weight of his debt was not fully known to most. It hadn’t been to him until Pengrin had barged into The Devil’s Lair and been humiliated by Hawksmoor. But how did any of this put Judith’s reputation at risk?
“What is it Miss Sutherland revealed?”
Ridgemont pulled his shoulders back and clasped his hands behind his back, every inch the proper gentleman. Gone was his usually affable manner and in its place a sternness Benedict had not seen in him before. “I do not feel comfortable speaking of it.”
“Yet you felt perfectly comfortable tossing her out of your home.”
“I did not—” The words barked out of the marquess before he caught himself. He took a deep breath then continued. “I did no such thing. I was away on business. Upon my return, Lady Dalridge insisted she did the right thing. Regardless, from what I had witnessed of Miss Sutherland’s character, I found it difficult to believe she would make such assertions without cause. I investigated her claims and discovered she spoke the truth. Pengrin is a cad
and a liar and I no longer consider him a friend. You would do well to do the same.”
“I never considered him a friend in the first place,” Benedict said.
Ridgemont rubbed a hand across his forehead and weariness invaded his voice. “Do you know where Miss Sutherland is?”
“I do.”
“And she is safe?”
He did not answer. Would not until he had some answers of his own. “What did Miss Sutherland tell you?”
Something had happened between Pengrin and Judith. Charlie had told him they had courted, though Charlie believed she had taken the affair more serious than Pengrin had and ultimately the lord withdrew his interest before a proposal would have been deemed imminent. It was an ungallant thing to do, no doubt, but not completely uncommon or unheard of and as Pengrin had not proposed, there were no promises broken.
So what was it then?
Ridgemont stared at him a long moment. “I thought as her friend and self-imposed protector, you already knew. Pengrin compromised her.”
Ridgemont’s words set Benedict back on his heels. It was a lie. She had not been compromised. He had lain with her only the night before and could verify her innocence had been, without a doubt, intact. Had been. For he had not simply compromised her, he had ruined her. Which made him a far worse cad than Pengrin, did it not?
“Miss Sutherland said this?”
“She did,” Ridgemont verified. “I know not of the details of her claim, nor would I tell you if I did, but this is what she spoke of to my aunt when attempting to convince her to keep my sister away from him. I trust you will not repeat this.”
Benedict wanted to hit him in that moment, to plant his fist hard and fast into the marquess’s perfectly sculpted face until it was bruised and bloodied. What did he think? That Benedict was about to run through the streets of London yelling such claims from the top of his lungs?
Ridgemont held up a hand as if to ward off any oncoming blows. “Forgive me. That was uncalled for. Of course, you won’t. Your loyalty to Miss Sutherland was obvious from the start and I should not have doubted its veracity. Just please tell me she is safe and put my mind at ease.”
