“You believe it is so.”
“Perkins . . . he is a man you father used—”
“I’ve met him,” Ben replied grimly. Perkins was not his favorite person right now.
“—Well, he mounted a search. He found no trace of Jack. It had rained the night he disappeared, and there weren’t even footprints or a scent for the dogs. So, when your bit of scandal came about—”
“It wasn’t a scandal. We were young, but I would have done what was honorable if I’d been given a chance. I loved Elin even then.”
“Or so you believe. But do you really know, Ben? Oh, I grant that you were passionate about her, but who knows the direction young love takes? When your father went against my wishes and suggested the military, you didn’t kick up a fuss. He said you were defiant after the thrashing he gave you, but you walked on your own to the waiting coach.”
“I was overwhelmed.” And humiliated. He’d also been overwhelmed by the disaster of what had happened between him and Elin. He was sure it was of his making. His father had claimed he had hurt her, a devastating charge to Ben at the time.
“Your father said you were a pup who needed direction,” his mother was saying. “He regretted that in his pain of losing Jack, he’d not sent you away to school, and that was mostly my doing. I convinced him to keep you close with the best tutors we could find. Later, he wished he had at least sent you to Harrow. He was so angry at Eton for losing Jack.”
“I did well in the military.” He also realized time had given him perspective. Over a year ago, he’d been furious with Gavin for having his commission revoked. However, if that had not happened, Ben would not have been reunited with Elin.
Funny the twists life took.
“I have a confession to make.”
Her words grabbed his attention.
“You blame Gavin for ordering your dismissal from the military.”
“Are you saying he didn’t? Because I saw his signature on the orders.”
“He did it at my request. He warned me you would not be happy.”
Ben leaned back. “Why, Mother? Why would you not have written me and told me of your concerns? Why take my life from me?”
“Because I didn’t believe you would listen to me. I’ve lost a child and a husband, and everyone was talking about General Wellesley and how he would engage the French. They talked about battles and I realized I could lose you as well. So I made Baynton’s life miserable until he agreed to do as I asked.”
“Gavin didn’t say you were involved.”
“He wouldn’t.”
Ben felt all the anger he’d harbored against his brother well up inside. “Why would he not tell me the truth?”
“Your brother was protecting me. You were very angry when you first returned to London. That anger continued unabated.”
That was correct. Nor, at this moment, was Ben proud of the way he’d acted. He wasn’t certain when the shift had happened, but he found himself uncomfortable thinking about his past behavior.
“I suppose I can be headstrong.” The words came out small and hesitant from Ben’s mouth. He didn’t want to see Gavin as nobler than he—and yet he knew his attitude toward his brother was changing.
Rediscovering Elin, falling in love with her all over again, had softened his stance toward many things, including his family—to a point.
“I love Elin, Mother. She loves me. I’ll challenge Baynton for her, and I shall win.”
He had expected his mother to be repelled by the idea. She surprised him. Calmly she answered, “If you do battle for her, understand you will be making a mockery of your brother. Everyone knows that Elin Morris has been promised to the Duke of Baynton for decades. Your brother has enemies, and he has pride. He will not want to be the talk of the Town. Or the center of any jests. Certainly you can agree that Gavin is too good a man to be subjected to such treatment.”
“So, Elin and I are to be miserable for the rest of our lives so that Gavin isn’t gossiped about? Is that what you are saying?”
“Ben—”
“No.” He rose to his feet and offered his hand to her, which she gracefully accepted. She was still lovely and in possession of her full senses . . . but, as he lifted her weight up, he realized she was growing older, frailer.
He forced himself to take the heat out of his words. “I will not give up Elin just so Gavin can appear ducal. He doesn’t love her. He doesn’t know her.”
“Baynton will in time.”
“Or he will be so wrapped in his own importance, he won’t notice her. He won’t appreciate or listen to her, or marvel at her slightest movement, or try to make her life meaningful. He’ll expect a child of her, but he won’t be her friend. My brother doesn’t know how to think of anything other than his own responsibilities.”
“Perhaps she will teach him—?”
“Perhaps? Possibly? Maybe? Mother, Elin deserves better. Every woman deserves better.”
His plea moved her. She walked a few steps away from him, her mind busy, and Ben found himself holding his breath. His father had been a forceful, ofttimes difficult man. It was easy to rage against such a person, even a sire, and willingly reject him if necessary.
But his mother was different. He wanted to trust her.
“I am having your rooms prepared for you,” she said.
This information was not what he’d been expecting her to say. When he started to protest that he wasn’t about to stay under Gavin’s roof, she held up a hand.
“Enough of this, Ben. It is indulgent and childish. You were once a leader, and from all that I’ve heard, men respected you. Then you return home and you have done—what? Nothing, save live an undirected life. Well, Fate keeps putting Elin into your hands. I’m not a superstitious woman, and I won’t pretend to know what that means. If Elin cries off and jilts Gavin for his brother, well, it is just not done.”
“It has been done.”
“Not by people of our class.”
“Oh, yes, the upper cream—”
“Stop this.” She spoke in a tone he’d immediately obeyed since he was a child.
“What I’m saying is that the issue of which one of you Elin chooses is between you and your brother. I’ve interfered enough in your life. But understand, your brother is a very good man. It is not easy to be the duke, to balance his responsibilities to the estates and our people along with the intrigues and needs of this country, but Gavin does it very well. He is far better at wielding his power than my own husband was. A woman would be lucky to have him.”
She let her last statement linger in the moment before she asked, “What do you offer Elin, Ben? And don’t play the poet and say something ridiculous like ‘your heart.’ She is an intelligent young woman. One I shall be glad to call daughter. You say she deserves more than what Gavin can give her. I say she is worthy of more than a man who pouts.”
That was a facer.
Ben needed to find his voice. “I just saved her life.”
“So I’ve heard. That is a start, Ben. Or are you proposing that you marry her and the two of you happily spend your time carousing in the taverns and gaming halls that you have been frequenting over the past year?” She took a step toward him, a martial light in her eye. “If you want her, my son, what are you going to change to win her? Because, she may return your love, but Fyclan Morris is no fool. He wants only the best for his daughter. Are you the best you can be, Benedict?”
Her words were tiny darts to his conscience.
At last, he recognized what a dunderhead he’d been. He saw himself as Elin must have seen him when she came upon him rolling dice at The Oak. He had not appeared to be a man who wanted something meaningful from his life. Instead, he’d been playing at being common.
Pride was a hard thing to swallow.
Instead of answering, Ben left the room. A part of him wanted to march down the stairs and out the front door.
Love made him realize he must change.
Elin would def
y her father for Ben, but not without a painful cost. He could run that gauntlet of society’s opinion. However, his mother was right, what did he have to offer? Everyone he knew would believe Elin a fool to reject the Duke of Baynton for Benedict Whitridge.
So, instead of leaving, Ben found himself going to his old set of rooms. All was almost as he’d left it except that the bed had been replaced with one that was bigger, and there was a sizeable new wardrobe in the room. The walls were green, a color he had once appreciated. Now he realized he’d had terrible taste.
A fire burned in the hearth. His mother had been confident.
But as Ben stood in the doorway, he found himself longing for Trenton, his family’s seat next to the Morris estate.
A footstep sounded behind him. Ben turned to meet a man of medium height with brown hair and graying temples, conservative dress, and a freshly pressed coat draped over his arm.
“Lord Benedict?” he said pleasantly.
“Lord Ben, they call me.”
The man nodded. “I didn’t want to seem presumptuous, my lord.”
“And you are?”
“George. Her Grace asked me to attend you.”
Ben had to laugh. His mother was very sure of herself.
“Did Her Grace tell you, George, that I would be quite a project?”
The valet swallowed a smile. “She hinted that you might be a challenge. But I enjoy a challenge, my lord.”
“So do I, George,” Ben confessed. “Let us set to work. I have a woman to win.”
Chapter Seventeen
George was a miracle worker.
Ben had not realized how rough he had become. Mirrors had been in scarce supply where he’d been over the past twelve months or so. One glance in the mirror confirmed that Gavin was right. Ben did look like a rat catcher, or worse.
He’d always been a proponent of daily bathing. He just felt better when he was clean, and he’d maintained the habit as best he could while traveling with Hooknosed and the others. They mocked him, but Ben didn’t care.
However, running through the woods with Elin had taken a toll. No wonder he’d been so angry at Gavin’s words.
Soon George had Ben sitting in a steaming bath. Most bathing tubs were too small for Ben. His legs always hung out or were folded so that his knees almost hit his chin. This was a leg-hanging venture.
George poured buckets of water over Ben’s head. The water splashed everywhere. George didn’t care.
“Don’t worry about the floor, my lord. I’ll see that mopped up.” He picked up a stiff brush and a bar of sandalwood-scented soap and set to scrubbing Ben’s feet.
“Hey,” Ben said in surprise, his toes curling in reaction to the bristles against his feet. He yanked his foot back, but George had a firm grip.
“Ticklish, my lord?”
“Damned right, and I want my foot back. I don’t need that much personal attention.”
“You have been traveling for a long time, my lord,” George intoned. “A man needs this from time to time.” He obeyed Ben’s order to return his foot, but went after the other with equal vigor.
And it all became a penance of sorts. As George snipped hair, polished nails, and shaved off a ghastly stubble, Ben accepted that this was a part of the price he needed to pay to become worthy of Elin.
His wardrobe held the clothes he’d left behind when he’d stormed out of Menheim after his last argument with Gavin with only the clothes on his back. His brother had wanted Ben to accept a position with the Home Office under the Home Secretary Richard Ryder. Since such an endeavor would further burnish Gavin’s political influence, Ben had been set against the appointment.
Now, he was reconsidering. A post with the government had once seemed deadly boring. However, after a year traveling around at loose ends, it now stuck him as productive.
And it would give him time with Elin.
Elin. When she jilted Gavin, the scandal could rob Ben of any opportunities. They would leave the country in that situation, he decided. They would do what they must to be together, and he hoped she agreed with him.
After almost three hours of scrubbing and pruning, George presented to Ben a new man in his mirror. He wore a jacket of darkest blue over a golden-patterned waistcoat and buff-colored breeches. His hair had been trimmed to above his ears and styled à la Brutus, a favorite with all the dandies, including his brother. Of course, Ben’s hair lacked an abundance of curls unless he was caught in the rain, so this style appeared as one of his own. He was pleased.
“Impressive, George,” Ben admitted. “I’ve never seen a shirt this white or crisp.” He straightened the knot George had tied in his neckcloth. “Nor a shine this gleaming to my boots. Not even my batman could do as well,” he said, referring to the soldier who had served as his personal servant.
“Champagne blacking, my lord. All the boots in the house are polished with it.”
“Amazing.” In the face of his transformation, Ben’s argument with his brother a year ago seemed trivial. His pride had not served him well.
Or had he been mourning? Grieving the loss of not only a career he’d enjoyed but also Elin’s friendship? He valued her friendship almost as much as he treasured the growing love between them.
Now, studying the figure he cut in the looking glass, he felt himself a very lucky man. He knew Elin would be pleased.
“I do wish you’d let me do something with your eyebrows, my lord. They are very distinctive but not at all the style. They should be thinner and more arched—”
“Don’t touch my eyebrows.” Just the thought of what George might have in mind made him shudder. “They are as God made them.”
“Yes, my lord.”
“My coat and my hat, George. I’m going out.” The hour was half past four, a good time for paying a call.
George dutifully took from the wardrobe a greatcoat. It was of dark gray wool. Ben didn’t remember it from a year ago, but it fit well. The hat was a curled brim beaver. George handed him gloves. Pulling them on, Ben almost felt a man of means.
An idea was beginning to form in his head, a thought for his future. He was anxious to discuss the matter with Elin.
“Thank you, George,” he threw over his shoulder as he left the room.
There was no sound or sight of his mother or brother in the house. Ben wasn’t disturbed by this. He was a man on a mission. He was calling on the lady he loved.
The sky was clear, the air brisk—the sort of day it felt good to be alive. Ben walked with purpose.
A few feet from the Morris front door, a carriage rolled past. Ben glanced at it, and his step slowed. Baynton was riding in the open vehicle, with Fyclan Morris and his daughter.
When the carriage stopped, Baynton jumped out and held the door open for Elin and her father. Elin laughed at something Gavin had said. She’d not noticed Ben. She hadn’t even glanced in his direction.
Perhaps she hadn’t recognized him.
Jealousy was an ugly emotion. Ben knew because his body was rife with it.
The front door to the house opened. Elin went inside. Gavin, ever the diplomat said something to Fyclan who still sat in the vehicle. He waved the duke on into the house. Ben couldn’t hear what he said, but Gavin walked into the house after Elin.
Now, Ben moved forward. He wasn’t about to let his brother have any more time with Elin than necessary.
However, Fyclan climbed out of the carriage, leaning heavily on his walking stick and confronted Ben on the walk before he reached the door. “I thought that was you.” There was no welcome in his tone.
Ben decided to ignore his coldness. He wanted Fyclan’s approval. Her father’s opinion was important to Elin. “How are you, sir?”
“Very good,” Fyclan answered, holding up his walking stick as if to bar Ben’s passage to the door. “And now, I shall say that you are not welcome under my roof.”
“I love your daughter.”
“Love? You almost destroyed her.”
B
en frowned. “Did she tell you about the men trying to murder her? That I helped her escape and protected her from them?”
“And compromised her while you did it.” Fyclan had lowered his voice on that one. His eyes were alive with a father’s outrage.
“She told you I ‘compromised’ her?” A heaviness grew in Ben’s chest. This was very much like the conversation he’d had with his father and this man years ago.
“Not this time. She’s being very coy. But a father knows. You plan to take her for everything she is worth.”
“And you want only what is best for her, regardless of her feelings or what she desires?”
If he had popped Fyclan in the nose, the man could not be more insulted. “You can’t understand how much I detest you. You won’t know until you have a daughter and some callow lad tries to rob her of her future with talk of love while he ruins her. Jenny and I waited and prayed for Elin. She is a gift.”
“That she is,” Ben quickly agreed.
“And you sullied her. She was barely a child.”
“We were both young,” Ben started, “but what we felt for each other was very real. It is real, even now.”
Fyclan pounded his cane on the walk, punctuating his words as he said, “And you can’t have her. I won’t let you.”
“Why? My feelings for her are true. Everyone knows that you and your wife were a love match. Why can’t you allow Elin to make up her own mind?”
“Because she is to be a duchess.”
“That can change—” Ben started.
“It cannot. It will not.”
“Is this about that prophecy or whatever?” Ben demanded, his temper growing to match Fyclan’s. “This belief that you and your wife had that your grandson would be a duke. It’s ridiculous. Nonsense.”
“Nonsense? In two weeks’ time, Elin will marry your brother, and it will come true. She deserves to a duchess.”
“You would put something some fortune-teller—”
“My grandmother made the prediction. She had the gift.”
“Very well, something ‘your grandmother’ claimed over your daughter’s happiness? Mr. Morris, if Elin told me that she never wanted to see me again, then I would comply. I love her that much. But she hasn’t said those words. I would know. My heart would shatter from the sound of them.”
The Match of the Century Page 18
