by Kelly Boyce
“She is safe.”
Ridgemont glared at him. “See that she stays that way.”
The words came as a warning, as if he already suspected she remained under his roof, but that was impossible. Benedict had kept her well hidden. “Good day to you, Ridgemont. I am certain you can see yourself out.”
The marquess nodded and Benedict stood stock still until he heard the man’s footfalls on the stairs leading down to the foyer. He waited a few moments more before turning on his heel and heading in the direction of Judith’s room.
Whatever had happened between her and Pengrin, he was going to get to the bottom of it, and he was not leaving her bedchamber until he did.
Chapter Twenty-Three
A short rap on Judith’s door gave her a start, but she had no further time to react as the door flew open and Benedict stormed inside like a winter squall, the bitter wind of anger swirling about him. She had never seen him in such a state. There was something elemental about it and in that moment she glimpsed the man who lived beneath the normally calm, controlled exterior.
“You cannot come barging into my room in such a manner!”
He didn’t bother responding.
“What did Pengrin do to you?” The words shot out, pelting her one by one. Benedict’s hands clenched and unclenched at his sides. Despite his anger, she did not feel threatened. Not as she had with Pengrin when his anger had piqued. Benedict would not hurt her. At least not physically. The certainty of this lived deep in her bones. But if she spoke the truth and he turned away from her in disgust or disappointment, the pain from that would cut far deeper than any physical blow.
“That is none of your concern.” She had spent the better part of three years trying to forget that episode. Coming to London had opened the old wound and brought it back to the surface, but she was leaving now, with the hope of never returning, and as such, she planned to bury the memory in a deep, dark corner never to be touched upon again.
“Ridgemont paid me a visit.” His blue eyes blazed with accusation. Her heart shuddered to a stop. Had Lady Dalridge revealed her confession to him?
“Why was he here?”
“To apologize. His driver informed him he had brought you here.” Benedict hesitated. “Ridgemont investigated the claims you made to Lady Dalridge.”
Fear raged through her. Ridgemont knew. Humiliation scalded her skin. Had the marquess confronted Lord Pengrin with her claims?
I will see you swimming in the Thames.
Judith covered her mouth and held in the gasp of fear that threatened. She turned away and walked toward the window. The weather remained bleak, a perfect facsimile of the strange turn her life had taken of late.
She watched Benedict’s approach from the reflection in the glass. His demeanor softened as his hands rested upon her shoulders. She closed her eyes, briefly, and absorbed the warmth of his touch, pulling as much strength as she could from it. From him.
“He has broken off all ties with the man and will not allow him further access to Lady Henrietta.” He hesitated before continuing. “That was the dilemma you were struggling with when we spoke that time, was it not? How to keep Pengrin from hurting her?”
She nodded.
“And you knew he would because he had already hurt you and shown his true colors?”
What did she say? What could she say? She simply nodded again, struggling to hold back her fear and humiliation.
“What did he do to you? What is it you are hiding? You need to tell me. I cannot protect you if I don’t know what I am protecting you from.”
She wanted to tell him she did not require his protection but the words would not come. She was a long way from home in a city she neither liked nor trusted. Benedict was her only ally, yet if she told him the truth of what had happened, her part in it, would she lose him too?
He turned her around to face him. “Judith, you must tell me.”
“He compromised me,” she whispered then shook her head. “No, that is not the whole truth.” And that was the crux of it, the guilt she carried. The shame.
“What is the truth?”
“The truth is, I let him. He had charmed me, made me believe he shared my feelings. He spoke to me of marriage—”
“He proposed?”
Judith dropped her gaze to the narrow strip of space between them. “No. Not formally. But he spoke of it and I believed it to be a foregone conclusion. Why else would he say such things?” And he had said many things. Risqué things about what he wished to do to her. Things that startled, yet titillated her. Things that made her body pulse uncomfortably.
“Then what happened?”
“Please,” she pleaded. “Must we speak of this?” She did not want him to know, to think she was the type of woman who gave herself freely to any man who paid her the slightest bit of attention. She did not want to cheapen what they had shared last night. Her brief dalliance with Lord Pengrin could not compare to her feelings for Benedict. It was the difference between fading candlelight and a raging fire.
“We must. You fear him. I can see it in your eyes. What has he done to you?”
She lifted her head, embarrassed by the sheen of tears that blurred her vision. “That is not fear you see, it is shame.”
“You have nothing to be ashamed of.”
But she did. “You don’t understand. I let him…compromise me. I could have stopped him, but I didn’t.” She swallowed the bile that rose in her throat as the memory rushed back. “It was at Lord and Lady Dunhaven’s ball. He said he wished to speak with me in private. I believed he meant to propose, so I made an excuse of going to the ladies’ room and let him lead me away to the library. When we arrived, he kissed me.”
She dropped her gaze and noted the way Benedict’s fist had clenched once again, the bones of his knuckles pulled white against the skin. Her heart withered at what he must think, how low his opinion of her would become once the full truth was revealed. She took a breath and continued. She would finish what she started.
“I had never been kissed before and it quite swept me away, so I let it continue. He took this as an invitation, I assume. Why would he not? And so he pressed it further and put his hand on my breast.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “I protested, but he said such things were normal between a husband and wife. His words made me believe his intentions honorable, that whatever happened it mattered not, because we were to be married. He had all but said so. Or so I thought.”
“A reasonable assumption,” Benedict said, but she did not believe him.
“He pulled my bodice down,” she whispered, tightening her arms. “And put his mouth on my bared flesh. It felt strange…nice…” How she hated to admit such. She closed her eyes, squeezing them tightly shut, unable to watch Benedict’s reaction to her shameful admission. “So I did not stop him. And when he lifted my skirts and put his hand on my thigh, I did not stop him then either.” The words came out, strangled and painful and a tear burned a path down her cheek.
“Judith—” His thumb brushed away the tear. She jerked at the unexpected gentleness of his hand on her face. “You are not the first person to lose yourself to an expert seducer and sadly, you will not be the last.”
“No.” She refused to accept his understanding. She did not deserve it. “I knew better. Part of me wanted to stop. I was unsure. But he cajoled and insisted it was the natural course of things, so I relented. It was as if…my mind had disconnected from my body.”
“When did you realize he had no intention of marrying you?”
She winced. How stupid she must appear to him, to not have seen through Lord Pengrin sooner. Even now, looking back, she wondered such herself. She had always been smart, sensible. But in this…in this, she had played the part of fool with embarrassing expertise.
“When he tried to untie my drawers, it was too much. It frightened me how far things had gone so quickly. I tried to push him away. I told him I wished to stop.”
“What was his respo
nse?”
“He tried to coerce me, saying pretty words, but suddenly everything felt wrong and I wanted him to release me. When he didn’t immediately respect that, I grew afraid. Angry. I pushed at him again with all my might and he stumbled back. His expression changed then. He became angry. Frustrated. I don’t know.” She shrugged.
“Did he leave you be?”
“In a sense. I tried to placate his feelings, to explain I wished to wait until we were married. Instead of offering his understanding, he laughed at me.” The sound had been caustic and cutting. And the words that followed had seared into her soul. “He told me he had no intention of marrying a cheap little piece of baggage like me. That this had all been in fun. He’d made a wager with another that he could trick me into believing he cared for me and convince me to—”
She stopped, the vileness of Pengrin’s words like knives digging beneath her skin.
“What did he say?” Hate filled Benedict’s voice, though whether directed toward her or Lord Pengrin she could not say and was too afraid to ask. “Tell me.”
She did not want to, but she had kept the words locked away for so long now, they had burned a black hole deep inside of her. If she did not get them out, they would consume her.
She swallowed and mustered her courage, but even then, the confession only whispered out of her. “He said he’d wagered he could convince me to spread my legs for him like a common doxy. That someone so beneath his notice would be only too happy to receive his attention and do anything to keep it.”
Pure, unadulterated fury blazed like an inferno in Benedict’s eyes. Even the skin of his face appeared to have been pulled tight against the bones as if trying to contain the violence that roiled beneath the surface. What would happen should his tight control snap? Would he hunt down Lord Pengrin and make him pay for his sins? And what of her? Would she be held accountable as well, for had she not provided an easy target for such folly?
“With whom did Pengrin make this disgusting wager?”
“After he made his…declaration, I slapped him and in the silence that followed I heard someone laugh. There was someone else in the room watching us. That is when I realized the entire episode of bringing me to the library had been orchestrated. I quickly covered myself and looked about the room. I found Lady Susan lurking in the shadows.”
“Lady Susan?” Benedict cursed under his breath. “She is a despicable individual to be certain, but I had never considered she would stoop to this level of depravity.”
“The woman has a black soul, if she possesses one at all. But regardless, I allowed myself to be taken in and made the fool. Am I really any better?”
He shook his head. “You gave your heart freely and trusted Pengrin to be genuine. How could you have known what a heartless bastard he is?”
His understanding stunned her. She had expected disappointment, rejection. Yet he placed no blame at her feet. “I did not want you to think what we shared…that it didn’t mean anything. It did. It meant everything.”
“I cannot claim to be pleased at the notion of another man laying hands on you. In truth, the thought sickens me, but I do not hold you responsible. You were caught in a trap set by a despicable blackguard who fostered your tender feelings, then twisted them to his advantage. But what Pengrin did, and what we shared have nothing to do with one another.”
“Then you don’t think me—?” She couldn’t say the words. Not a second time.
“I think you the most beautiful woman that I have ever had the pleasure to encounter, inside and out. And I stand firm on my desire to take you as my bride if you will come to your senses and accept my proposal.”
The sob she had held back choked out of her. Benedict reached out and pulled her into his arms, surprising her with the warmth of his embrace. How wonderful was this man, who heard the worst about her and did not judge her less worthy. He did not scoff at her stupidity, or mock her for how easily she’d allowed herself to be duped and led astray. He did not call her names or turn away from her in disgust.
Instead, he offered her his hand, and with it, a lifetime of happiness. All she had to do was say yes. Yet she could not. As she rested against the length of him and allowed the rise and fall of his chest to calm her sobs, the knowledge of what their marriage would cost him could not be refuted. He needed a wealthy bride.
If she married him, if she robbed him of his one chance to save his family’s fortune and resurrect their reputation from the ashes of scandal, he would eventually grow to resent her. How could he not? Saving his family, finding redemption for what he deemed as his past failures, was the driving force behind everything he did.
She could not consign them to such a future. She would not destroy what they shared now by heaping disappointment and resentment onto it until it curdled and soured.
As he cradled her head against the crook of his neck, the warmth of his cravat and the skin beneath seeped into her and gave her courage.
“I love you with all my heart, Benedict Laytham, but I will not marry you.”
Benedict could not believe what he was hearing. Again, she had rejected his proposal. What exactly did he have to do to convince this woman to marry him?
“Judith—”
She pulled out of his arms, just enough to look up at him, to torment him with her touch as her hand rested upon his cheek. Her eyes were rimmed red from her tears, her skin still damp from the path they had created. None of which detracted from her beauty, from the strength and goodness he saw beneath it.
He did not know how he would manage without the dowry he needed from a wealthy bride, but it seemed an easier path than managing a life without her in it. With Judith by his side, surely they could tackle the hardships in their path and make their way through, just as his mother and father had done. He believed in her. Even more than that, he believed in them.
“No, Benedict. We both know what it will mean for you—for your family’s future—if we marry.”
“And I know what it will mean for you if we don’t.” He could not allow her to sacrifice herself in such away. Not for him. But she refused to be swayed.
“It will mean nothing. Not really. I do not plan to marry and therefore the state of my innocence will not be called into question. No one beyond us will ever know.”
“But what will you do?”
She smiled at him, confidence radiating from her despite all she had been through. It dazzled him. She dazzled him. “I think I would like to give my life toward doing charitable works rather than become the property of someone else. Rather than do what my husband pleases, I will do as I please.”
It was obvious she had considered the matter even before they had shared their bodies and their hearts. Her reasoning was sound; he could neither fault it nor find error in it. Given the limited options available to women in this day and age, he would have made a similar choice.
The only hitch he found in her plan was that he had no wish to control her. She had a mind of her own and the intelligence to put it to the best use. He rejoiced in the opportunity to be a part of that, to see where it led her. Unfortunately, where it led her, was away from him.
“But what of children?”
She shrugged. “Children would have been lovely. I do adore them. But perhaps I could convince Uncle Arran to allow me to use my dowry to fund a home for orphaned children, to give them a better start in life than the one they had been set with. I think I would like that.”
Benedict could think of no better role model for a houseful of children than Judith, but he had hoped the house would be their own, the children running about bearing a striking resemblance to the woman pulling away from him now.
His arms slipped away from her as she crossed the room to the window overlooking the gardens. With each step she grew farther and farther away from him until finally he had to admit she had moved beyond his reach. She remained firm in her convictions, her strong mind unwilling to bend or change. She believed she did him a service, freeing hi
m to marry a bride of far more significant dowry. His head counseled to jump at the chance, but his heart and his body refused. He could no longer deny the truth.
If it meant a life with Judith, he would walk away from it all.
“And if you are with child?” It was the only hope he had left and it was a thin one at best. So far, the odds stacked against him showed no signs of relenting.
She glanced over her shoulder at him. “Then we will revisit the issue.”
Revisit the issue.
Hardly the response he had hoped for. His heart ached. How had everything gone so horribly wrong? He was willing to give up everything for her. The only problem being, she was giving up everything for him, and those two sacrifices did not work in concert to create a happy ending.
“I am tired.” She turned around and crossed the room. He’d yet to move, his feet rooted to the spot where his life had staggered to a standstill. She touched his arm lightly and leaned up to plant an all too brief kiss on his cheek. “I think I shall rest for a bit.”
He said nothing, only nodded. He had no words left.
Chapter Twenty-Four
It occurred to Benedict that the only kind of luck he’d had in the past several years had been bad, and given Marcus Bowen’s sudden appearance on his doorstep and the news he presented, that status did not appear to be changing any time soon.
“I beg your pardon?” Perhaps if he asked Marcus to repeat himself, the news would change. Unfortunately, it did not.
“Crowley’s body was fished out of the Thames this morning. It appears he was stabbed several times, though with the state of the body, it may be difficult to tell—”
Benedict waved Marcus off. He did not need the gruesome details of how the man met his end. The fact that he had was troublesome enough—for both Crowley and himself. “Do they know who did it?”
