Benedict's Commands

by Golden Angel

  Thankfully, having two intelligent and observant siblings had blessed Benedict with acting skills he might not have otherwise had. All three of them were masters at pretending to be unaffected by each other’s antics, something which had served them in good stead when it came to those outside the family as well.

  Feeling a hot angry gaze on his neck, Benedict turned to see Lady Daphne glaring furiously at him. Hmm. Perhaps there was something he could do.

  Although, when he approached the lady in question he swiftly regretted it.

  “OW!” Who knew a delicate wooden fan could hurt so much, even if it was wielded with all the force of a mace?

  “This is your fault,” Lady Daphne hissed at him, glaring malevolently. Her gaze cut to the dance floor where Christina was smiling up at Hartford while he looked down at her like she was particularly tempting crumpet he wanted to taste. “Do something about it! She has no idea what she’s getting herself into!”

  “You introduced them!”

  “I couldn’t not once he’d made his wishes known! I wouldn’t have had to if you had been over here where you were supposed to be and not dancing with some debutante!”

  “She’s my friend’s cousin, I was doing him a favor!”

  “Well done, good job, now go fix this.”

  Another stinging slap of the fan against his arm had him moving quickly away from the countess, as if her sharp tongue hadn’t been enough. She reminded him rather strongly of Arabella; but at least now he knew why Christina was dancing with Hartford and not with him -

  Christina still didn’t trust him.

  Which hurt, but he supposed he shouldn’t be overly surprised. After all, they hadn’t actually been able to speak for several days, and she didn’t know about his promise to Thomas. If she hadn’t been avoiding him, he would have told her, of course, and spared them both this pain. She was definitely going to receive a spanking for avoiding him, and not a fun one, he thought grimly as he tried to maneuver towards the dance floor.

  Unfortunately, apparently having danced with Miss Wilson had given the other debutantes and their mamas the idea that he was no longer singularly pursuing Christina, and he found himself blocked at every turn by pale skirts and eager young faces. Tamping down on his temper, Benedict did his best to extricate himself from each encounter politely, but it did mean he didn’t make it to the edge of the dance floor by the time the music ended. The couples dispersed, and it took him several more minutes to glimpse Christina again.

  As a matter of fact, he saw the tall, broad form of Hartford first. At least the man’s size made him stand out - much like Isaac. For just a moment, Benedict amused himself with the idea of standing the two men beside each other to judge which was the taller and broader. His amusement ended when he realized the blaggard was leading Christina out onto the balcony.

  There wouldn’t be privacy out there, but there wouldn’t be as many eyes on them either, and it would be quite easy to take her to even more private surrounds.

  Surely Christina wouldn’t do that to him, though? Unless she truly thought he was done with her…

  As sympathetic as he was to her insecurities, this had to end, Benedict thought grimly. The granite expression on his face must have given away some of his mood, for Lady Dunstead and her daughter halted their approach towards him and didn’t attempt to gain his attention; thankfully, because he wasn’t sure he could be held responsible for his actions right now.

  The surge of possessiveness and nagging uncertainty over Christina’s intentions with Hartford were riding him like a demon crouched on his shoulder. One way or another, he was going to make his intentions and his sincerity quite clear to Christina before tonight was over. Isaac’s words about Gretna Green kept tumbling through his thoughts.

  After all, hadn’t he seen how a couple could make the best of things and come out happily on the other side within his own family? Hellfire, not just within his family, but within his group of friends. Felix had married Gabrielle to save her from ruin at the hands of a cad, and they were now utterly devoted to each other. Lord and Lady Hyde’s marriage had been arranged before the lady had even had a full Season as a debutante (she’d barely had a coming out before they’d been hastily wed, although it had quickly become clear there had been no familial need spurring the wedding). Gabrielle had told Arabella that Lady Cordelia had married Dunbury for security after she’d been widowed. And most recently, of course, Isaac had been trapped into a compromising situation by Lydia, which should have gone tits up for both of them but instead they were blissfully happy with each other (granted, not without some struggle along the way, but it all ended well enough).

  Perhaps he really was going about this all wrong, trying to convince Christina to trust him so she would marry him. He’d been trying to be patient and undemanding, which really wasn’t like him at all. Even when he’d been originally pursuing her he hadn’t been undemanding, and while he’d been somewhat patient during that time, he certainly hadn’t let her lead him around on a string the way he had been now. She’d been leading him on a delicate little dance, and he’d let her. He hadn’t just appeared in her bedroom again, mindful both of the proprieties and her sensibilities… but things certainly went more his way when he ignored the proprieties and pushed the bounds of her sensibilities. Perhaps with Christina things would be easier if marriage came first, so she had no choice but to give him a chance - to try and trust him.

  If they were already married, she wouldn’t have been able to avoid him for the past few days. She would already know about Miss Wilson and would have herself been recruited to help launch the shy debutante. And she wouldn’t be out on the balcony right now with bloody Hartford!

  Scowling, Benedict kept pushing through the crush of people, moving as quickly as he could without being completely boorish. Unfortunately, that wasn’t very quickly at all.

  ******

  Coming out onto the balcony had been a mistake. If anything, she felt more melancholy, not less, once Benedict was out of her sight. She’d seen him making his way towards her and wanted to run… so she’d immediately agreed when Hartford made the suggestion they get some fresh air. She wanted Benedict to come bursting out of the French doors and carry her away, discipline her for her avoidance of him. Now she couldn’t see him and didn’t know whether or not he was actually following, she was terrified he wouldn’t.

  Hartford certainly seemed intent on seducing her. If Benedict didn’t come after her, she very might well let him. Which would likely result in feeling lower than she already did, because it would be her own fault for pushing Benedict too far, but some consolation was better than none, wasn’t it?

  Strong fingers splayed across her lower back, directing her forward. “Come, my dear, over here.”

  Christina followed unthinkingly, distracted and anxious, she was even more easily led than usual. Hartford really was very authoritative; even if she’d been paying more attention, she likely would have had difficulty resisting his direction. No wonder Daphne had bowed so quickly to his demands. There was something about him which urged others to do his bidding, an instinctive air of command which everyone followed.

  “You seem a bit distracted, sweetheart,” he said, coming to a halt near a large potted plant and pivoting to look down at her. “I’m not used to being so unsure of a lady’s attention.”

  “My apologies, my lord,” she said, smiling up at him ruefully and suppressing the urge to look at the doors back into the ballroom. Even if Benedict came after her, he’d been more than half a ballroom away from the doors. He’d hardly come bursting through at any moment. “I don’t mean to offend you.”

  “No offense taken, sweet,” he said, lifting his hand to brush a tendril of hair away from her temple. Christina shivered, feeling a little bit like a mouse caught by a cat. The Marquess was all predator, stirring arousal in her physically with the intensity of his gaze and the gentle brush of his hand. Her heart might not be in this encounter, but the Marquess
obviously knew how to seduce a woman… and his dominant personality was exactly the type she was most attracted to. “It just makes me wonder what I need to do to secure your attention.”

  His gaze focused on her lips and Christina sucked in a quick breath. Goodness the Marquess was potent… if it weren’t for her feelings for Benedict, she’d be very much in danger of being seduced post haste. As it was, if Benedict were through with her, she very well might seek the Marquess out after tonight. Once she was sure. But she shouldn’t lead the Marquess on now, when she wasn’t truly free to do so.

  “I must confess, my lord, my distraction comes from -”

  “Lady Christina! How delightful to see you again!” The friendly but firm interruption made Christina jump as Benedict’s sister Arabella suddenly materialized at her side. The young woman hooked her arm through Christina’s, pulling Christina’s hand away from where the Marquess had been holding it. “Who is your friend?”

  Oh dear… one thing Christina was sure of was that Arabella should absolutely not be introduced to the Marquess. It was one thing for a widow, even one trying to remain respectable, and another thing entirely for a debutante. Just being seen talking to him would probably cause whispers - and the way the Marquess was now sizing Arabella up, his interest obviously engaged by the brazen young woman with her stubbornly tilted chin as she stared back at him, was not good at all.

  As if sensing Christina’s line of thought, and not wanting his prey to get away, the Marquess bowed deeply. “Michael Seymour, Marquess of Hartford at your service… Miss…?”

  “Lady Arabella Windham,” Arabella said with a sniff, while Christina moaned inwardly, too frozen to stop what was happening right in front of her. What on earth was Benedict’s sister doing out here on the terrace by herself? How was Christina supposed to save the young woman and her reputation without insulting the Marquess?

  Where was Benedict when she needed him?!

  “Lady Arabella.” The Marquess held out his hand and - well trained, Arabella immediately lifted hers. Christina made a strangled noise as he kissed it, his golden gaze studying Arabella’s lithe form. “It is a delight to meet your acquaintance.”

  The young woman flushed pink under the Marquess’ close scrutiny, which seemed rather at odds with her usual brash demeanor, but there was something about the Marquess which was really quite unnerving. Apparently, he had that effect on all the ladies.

  “Well, ah… that is, the pleasure is mine, I’m sure,” Arabella stammered, looking a little stunned as she tried to bob a curtsy, forgetting her arm was still attached to Christina’s. The Marquess didn’t chuckle as they nearly tumbled, he just took a tighter grip on Arabella’s hand to help keep her upright, his head tilting to the side and studying the pair of them. For some reason, Christina got the distinct impression he liked what he saw - which was not entirely reassuring.

  “I was just about to speak to Lady Christina about a… gathering I thought might interest her,” the Marquess said, speaking to Arabella, who was having a little more trouble meeting his eyes now. “Normally, a young lady such as yourself wouldn’t be -”

  “Arabella!”

  Oh, thank God, another interruption, because Christina hadn’t known how to stop whatever the Marquess was going to say, even if she’d managed to find her tongue.

  But when she turned and saw who was standing there, she couldn’t help almost wishing the interruption hadn’t been made at all. The eldest Mr. Hood was glaring at Arabella, looking nearly as foreboding as her eldest brother might have. Christina was not well acquainted with him, but she certainly felt herself shrinking a bit under his censorious gaze, knowing she must surely bear part of the blame for Arabella’s current company.

  It was his companion who caused her to wish him away, however. Wide eyed, even more beautiful up close, the pocket Venus clinging to his elbow was none other than the young debutante Benedict had been dancing with when Christina had arrived at the ball. Her features were delicate, her face a perfect oval, and she was lushly curved, yet exuded innocence from every pore.

  The Marquess barely glanced at her, focusing instead on Mr. Hood, whom he grinned at, completely unrepentant.

  “Your brother is looking for you,” Mr. Hood said, glaring at Arabella and ignoring the Marquess completely.

  “I bet I’m not the only one he’s looking for,” Arabella mumbled, so quietly only Christina could hear her.

  She wanted to sink right into the stones beneath her feet. It hadn’t occurred to her that any of Benedict’s family members might come chasing after her in his place! Had Arabella actually come out onto the balcony for her? To ensure Christina didn’t go off with Hartford before Benedict could reach her?

  In that case, it really was her fault Arabella had just been introduced to Hartford, no matter how unintentionally.

  “What was that?” Mr. Hood asked, managing to loom without taking a step.

  “Nothing,” Arabella said sulkily, pressing a little closer to Christina as if for comfort. Christina gave the young woman’s arm a little squeeze, feeling heartily sorry for her part in putting Arabella in this position.

  “You know, Hood, I was just about to discuss my club with the ladies,” the Marquess said convivially. “I wouldn’t have thought it, but you seem like a gentleman who might fit in well there.”

  Mr. Hood gave the Marquess an icy look. “I don’t think so. Don’t you have somewhere else to be?”

  With a rakish grin and an even more rakish bow to her and Lady Arabella, followed by a lecherous look down both their persons which left Mr. Hood fuming and all three ladies blushing, the Marquess sauntered away. He’d barely left earshot when Mr. Hood turned on Arabella again, his dark eyes furious.

  “What were you doing speaking with him?! Do you have any idea who that was?!” Mr. Hood’s voice was low but thick with emotion, his body tense as though he were holding onto control of his temper by inches.

  “Michael Seymour, Marquess of Hartford,” Arabella said saucily, glaring back at Mr. Hood, completely defiant in the face of his disapproval.

  Christina felt suddenly very awkward, as if she were intruding on a private conversation between the two… and she wasn’t alone. The pretty debutante was chewing on her lower lip, looking as though she’d rather be anywhere but on Mr. Hood’s arm right at this moment. The air between Arabella and Mr. Hood was charged and strangely intimate, despite the obvious animosity between the pair. If Christina didn’t know better, she’d think they had an understanding.

  ******

  Hartford strolled back into the ballroom just before Benedict reached the French doors, and for a moment he almost went after the man… but Christina wasn’t with him and finding out where she’d gone was more important. He’d been waylaid by his hostess as he’d passed through the crowd, delaying him even further, although he’d shaken her off as politely and quickly as he could.

  Practically bursting onto the terrace, he swung his head around frantically, searching for Christina.

  The scene which met his eyes was completely unexpected.

  Arabella, her arm hooked through Christina’s, was glaring up at Thomas, who was escorting Miss Wilson on his arm. Both Christina and Miss Wilson looked distinctly uncomfortable, unsurprising as they were attached to two people who appeared to be squaring off for combat.

  He didn’t know how his sister and Thomas had become involved - although he could guess that Arabella saw Christina with Hartford and decided to intervene. Following that line of thought, it wouldn’t be surprising if Thomas had spotted Arabella and decided it was his duty to intervene on her behalf.

  His footsteps slowed as he approached, no longer feeling the need to rush, taking the opportunity to regain control over his emotions (and his breathing). Seeing him coming, Christina’s eyes widened and he felt his lips spread in a grim smile. She should look wary. Benedict was not feeling particularly patient nor pleased, and he was more than happy to work out his frustrations on her upturned arse
. In fact, that’d be his preferred method.

  When she started to move away from Arabella it broke the staring contest between his sister and Thomas; the latter looked at him with relief.

  “Dearborn! Thank God, come and corral your sister. She was speaking with Hartford!”

  “Was she?” Benedict asked, giving his sister a quelling look, which went completely ignored because she was back to glaring at Thomas. He held out his hand to Christina, who hesitantly took it. Their gloves blocked actual skin-to-skin contact, but he still felt immeasurably better the moment he held her hand in his. Not that he was completely soothed, but he no longer felt quite like he was about to reach a tipping point. She was here, with him, where she belonged… and now he had hold of her, he wasn’t going to let her go without a fight. “I wonder how she gained an introduction.”

  Christina’s hand trembled in his, her body tensing as he pulled her away from his sister’s side and against his, placing her hand on his arm, but Arabella just switched the focus of her glare. “Don’t blame Lady Christina.” Arabella sniffed. “The Marquess was perfectly polite. Lord Thomas is just being a unnecessary prig.”

  Predictably, Thomas bristled, glowering at Arabella, and causing Miss Wilson to look around for rescue. Unfortunately, her gaze landed on him - understandably, as he and Christina were the only options to play rescuer and she’d only been introduced to him - and caused Christina to bristle. Deciding he could at least fix one problem, Benedict ignored his sister and friend, and performed introductions.

  “Lady Christina Rowan, this is Miss Wilson, Lord Thomas’ cousin. Miss Wilson, I would make you known to Lady Christina Rowan, Marchesse of Stanhope. Miss Wilson is embarking on her first Season, sponsored by Viscountess Hood.”

  As Miss Wilson bobbed a curtsy, blushing furiously for some reason (her shyness really was astonishing), two things happened simultaneously - Christina immediately relaxed at the easy explanation for why Benedict had been dancing with Miss Wilson previously, and Thomas realized he was being rude. The conversation was still stilted, and Benedict was relieved when Thomas suggested they return to the ballroom. The sooner he could pass his sister off to his brother, the better… he had his future wife to handle.