A Noble Man

by Anne Ashley

  "Crawley," she muttered, anger coming to the fore. "It must have been he. Rot his black heart!"

  "I dare say in time he will go the way of all flesh," Benedict responded with a flash of wry humour, but Sophia refused to be diverted.

  "I do not believe that I can wait that long," she announced, determination hardening her voice. "Crawley's an utter blackguard, and I shall personally ensure that he pays dearly for what he has done to you."

  There was a moment's silence, then, "Let be, my lady!"

  It was undoubtedly a command, and one which had Trapp gaping in astonishment and Sophia regarding her suddenly authoritative groom in a mixture of anger and surprise. It was evident that she was unaccustomed to being spoken to in such a fashion, least of all by a servant. Nevertheless Benedict was not deterred.

  "I do not require a female to fight my battles for me," he went on in the same resolute tone. "I may not, at this present moment in time, be in a position to extract due penance, but I have a long memory and shall not forget Sir Lucius Crawley's behaviour in a hurry. In the meantime it would be in our own best interests, both yours and mine, to let the matter rest."

  It was easy to detect both anger and resentment in her expression. Benedict, regarding her keenly, could discern a flicker of admiration too, and finally he detected the reluctant acceptance before Sophia swung away and walked the few paces to the head of the stairs.

  "Very well, Benjamin Rudgely, it shall be as you wish," she flung over her shoulder. Then she was gone without uttering another word, leaving Trapp gaping in utter astonishment once again.

  "Well, I'll be damned!" he announced, when at last he had found his voice. "If I hadn't witnessed it with me own eyes, I'd never 'ave believed it." He glanced in Ben's direction, a look of dawning wonder in his eyes. "You're a marvel, my boy! Miss Sophia's always been a headstrong chit, wanting her own way in all things, and yet she agreed to let well alone without so much as a blink."

  "Not quite, Mr Trapp," Benedict countered. "Unless I much mistake the matter, she didn't find the decision an easy one to make." He smiled softly as he eased his aching body back down on the bed. "Headstrong and spoilt she might be, but I for one do not doubt for a moment that she will keep her word."

  Chapter Seven

  Benedict's faith in the young woman who had succeeded in capturing his interest like no other female had done before was not misplaced, as he discovered for himself two days later when he received an unexpected summons to present himself at the house promptly at midday.

  As Trapp had driven the Earl and Countess out in the light town carriage half an hour earlier, Benedict had a fairly shrewd idea of precisely who wished to see him. Prepared though he was, he still found his pulse rate soaring when he entered the library at the appointed time to discover the raven-haired darling who continued to bewitch him seated at the mahogany desk, busily engaged in writing a letter.

  Disappointingly there was no smile of welcome this time, as she instructed him to be seated in the chair on the opposite side of the desk, but Benedict refused to be too downcast. She appeared totally absorbed in the letter she was writing, so he made no attempt to interrupt her, and merely occupied himself by taking stock of the book-lined room.

  Unlike Trapp, Benedict quite understandably felt not in the least out of place in the elegant surroundings. The well-stocked shelves, and the unmistakable aroma of leather and fine old brandy, put him vividly in mind of the library at Sharnbrook. He didn't doubt for a moment that during his long absence the dedicated servants had taken excellent care of the house, and its contents. No doubt most of the rooms were swathed in holland covers, and he was very much looking forward to that day when he could order their removal and take up the many duties for which he had been groomed from birth.

  Drawing his mind back to the present, he glanced across the desk to discover that the being who had been instrumental in delaying his return to the ancestral pile had finished writing and was studying him rather intently.

  "Your injuries appear to be healing fast," Sophia remarked, having observed that his lips were no longer swollen, though the gash above his left eye was still very noticeable. "I trust, in the circumstances, Trapp has not been working you too hard."

  Benedict wasn't slow to assure her that the opposite was true, and that he had been given only the lightest of tasks. "In fact, my lady, the sooner I'm allowed to resume all my duties, the better I shall like it."

  "In that case you may accompany me out tomorrow. My brother leaves London today, so I shall require your services from now on."

  This was music to Benedict's ears. It was not that he disliked Lord Angmering; far from it, in fact. The Viscount had often paid a visit to the stables when he had called at Berkeley Square, and his frequent caustic remarks had never failed to amuse Benedict. He could not deny, though, that the Viscount's presence in the capital had succeeded in obstructing his wooing of the Earl's delightful daughter, and he couldn't in all honesty say that he was sorry to learn of Marcus's imminent departure.

  "In the meantime, however, I do not think you should be in too much of a hurry to resume all your duties," Sophia advised softly, experiencing yet again that searing stab of guilt as she detected the clear outline of the bandages beneath the rough cotton shirt. "I do not wish to be instrumental in causing you yet more pain."

  It was a moment or two before Benedict realised that she was referring to his physical injuries, not his present emotional state, and almost sighed with relief, for he didn't doubt for a moment that his days as the Yardleys' stable-hand would be well and truly numbered if it ever became known that he had serious designs on the daughter of the house.

  "You are not to blame for what occurred the other evening, my lady," he assured her gently, but she refused to be so nobly exonerated.

  "Yes, I am, Ben," she countered. "I'm totally to blame. It was my foolishness in offering encouragement to a man of Crawley's stamp that resulted in your being attacked." She couldn't prevent a wry little smile. "You must allow me to suffer a guilty conscience, and feel thoroughly ashamed of myself. I don't suppose for a moment that, my nature being what it is, I shall suffer this lowliness of spirits for very much longer," she said lightly, unaware herself just how much the experience had begun to change her attitude towards a great many things.

  The change in her expression, however, was instantly noticeable, and there was more than a hint of resentment in the look she flashed him. "Of course, it certainly didn't improve my state of mind when I saw Crawley yesterday evening, and was forced to keep a civil tongue in my head because of that ridiculous promise I had made to you."

  "You spoke to him?"

  "Briefly, yes," she disclosed, not finding his evident interest in the least strange. "Thankfully, though, he never asked me to dance." She frowned suddenly. "Now I come to think about it, I cannot recall seeing him dance at all. He seemed rather preoccupied, and left the party early, as I recall." This seemed to afford Ben a great deal of amusement, and she was curious to know why.

  "Because, my darling girl, I strongly suspect that Crawley's preoccupation was due entirely to my little stratagem," he admitted and, ignoring her evident surprise at the familiarity, he went on to explain the steps he had taken to attain a modest revenge.

  Sophia thoroughly approved, and it went some way to lessen her lingering feelings of guilt. "I just hope those rascals who set upon you continue to press for payment. And attain it too!"

  "I suspect that he will be forced to meet their demands in the end, if only to ensure their silence. A man like Crawley might enjoy a degree of notoriety, but engaging known felons to attain his nefarious ends would not be tolerated. He would lose face, might even be branded a coward, and that spells disaster for any member of the Ton."

  As always, what he had said was no less than the truth, and Sophia couldn't help wondering from where he had acquired this extensive knowledge of her class. Curiosity got the better of her and she found herself saying, "You never cease t
o surprise me, Ben. You're quite familiar with the rules laid down by polite society. How did you acquire this wisdom, I wonder? From scanning the gossip-columns in the newspapers, perhaps?"

  He would have been most surprised if sooner or later she hadn't passed some remark about his ability to read and, prepared, wasn't in the least disturbed by the half-mocking enquiry. "Mr Trapp isn't one to indulge in unnecessary small talk, as perhaps you are aware, so reading does help to pass the time."

  Sophia digested this reply in silence for a moment. It was quite the norm for higher-ranking servants to read and write, but a stable-hand was quite another matter, and yet she could not in all honesty say that she had been at all surprised to discover that Ben had acquired these skills. "No doubt your old master insisted that you learn."

  "He most certainly did, my lady." Again Benedict found it not in the least difficult to return that level feminine gaze, though he continued to find it most strange referring to his late father as "the old master". "He believed that a man could never hope to better himself without acquiring a little education."

  "Mmm." Sophia regarded him in silence again, not totally satisfied with the explanation, but deciding not to press for more details at the present time, and merely waved one slender hand in the general direction of the small table near the door. "You'll find some recent copies of the Morning Post over there. And if you are so inclined you may cast your eyes over the shelves before you go, and borrow any book which happens to take your fancy."

  Touched by the generous offer, Benedict was in the process of voicing his grateful thanks when the door opened and the butler entered to inform his young mistress that Miss Perceval had called and was awaiting her in the drawing-room, which effectively brought the interview to an abrupt end to the intense disappointment of at least one of the room's occupants.

  Assuring Ben that he might feel free to take all the time he needed to make his selection, Sophia hurriedly left the library and went across the hall. "It quite slipped my mind that I had invited you here this morning," she freely admitted, entering the elegantly appointed salon in time to see her friend removing a pretty powder-blue silk bonnet from her dusky locks.

  Robina wasn't in the least offended, but couldn't resist saying, "And I suppose you've also forgotten the reason why you invited me here."

  "Oh, no, I haven't forgotten that," Sophia assured her, smiling at the half-teasing tone. "Although, as things have turned out, you may as well have saved yourself the trouble of calling. When I issued the invitation, I expected Marcus to be here, but he has decided to leave London today. You know what a gadfly he is, Robin." She raised her hands in a helpless gesture. "One just never knows where he'll be from one day to the next. Unfortunately, without his assistance I really cannot demonstrate the waltz very well, unless..."

  A thought suddenly occurred to her, and she turned to the butler who had entered in her wake, bearing a tray containing ratafia and a plate of sweet almond biscuits. "Cardew, be good enough to see if Ben is still in the library, and if he is, request him to come in here."

  The butler expressed his disapproval by giving vent to a loud sniff. He objected most strongly to outside workers having free run of the house, even those who took the trouble to titivate a little before presenting themselves at the door, but knew better than to remonstrate with the master's daughter, and went away to do as he was bid.

  Although Sophia had spoken of her new groom on several occasions, she had failed completely to mention how very handsome he was, and Robina found herself almost gaping when the door opened a short while later and a tall man, his golden-brown hair easily reaching the base of his neck, walked smoothly into the room. She found herself quite unable to draw her eyes away from him. It wasn't his superior height or breadth of shoulder which struck her most forcibly, but the fact that, even dressed in rough workman's clothes, he didn't look in the least out of place in the elegant surroundings.

  "Ah, good!" Sophia remarked, glancing briefly at the book and papers in his hand. "I see you've made your selection. Lay your reading matter to one side, Ben, because I need your help."

  Betraying faint surprise, he obeyed the command. "How may I be of service, my lady?"

  Although rapidly losing the last vestiges of childish immaturity, there remained an element of roguery in her nature. "I'm certain that such an accomplished person as yourself, at some point in his life, learned to dance."

  "Dance, my lady?" he echoed, casting a wary glance across the room in Robina's direction.

  "Yes, dance, Ben. You know—that silly pastime we lesser mortals engage in when we've nothing better to do with our time."

  A suppressed chuckle from behind reminded Sophia of her friend's presence, and that she was forgetting her manners. She immediately rectified this .lapse on her part by formerly making the introductions, just as though Ben had been a gentleman caller to the house, and then persuaded a slightly bemused Robina to take the seat at the pianoforte.

  Robina was more than willing to oblige. Nowhere near as gifted as her sister Frederica, she could none the less play very creditably when called upon to do so, though her fingers did stumble slightly when she saw Sophia quite brazenly place one masculine hand lightly on her waist, while retaining his other in her own slender fingers.

  Benedict was no less surprised. Naturally he had heard of this new dance, which was rapidly gaining in popularity, but had never performed it himself before. Nevertheless he was very willing to learn, especially if it meant that he could maintain some physical contact, frustratingly slight though it might be, with the woman who he was daily becoming more convinced would make him the perfect wife.

  Sophia was not as indifferent to that light masculine touch as she tried to appear, either. She recalled clearly that evening at Christmas when Marcus, after a little persuasion, had taken the trouble to teach her the dance which was still considered by many to be extremely improper, but she couldn't recall feeling in the least conscious of her brother's touch when he had swirled her round the drawing-room at Jaffrey House, and it took a monumental effort on her part to marshal her thoughts and concentrate on the task in hand.

  She swiftly discovered that either she was an excellent teacher, or Ben was a remarkably apt pupil. After one or two minor lapses in concentration, when they neatly avoided stepping on each other's toes, they were soon swirling about the large drawing-room in perfect harmony, until Sophia inadvertently caught the toe of her slipper under the edge of the carpet. Only her partner's lightning reflexes prevented her from falling. One strong arm snaked round her slender waist, and she was held protectively against a stone hard chest for a moment before being set gently back on her feet.

  The contact was brief, moments only, and yet every inch of her body was left tingling with a wealth of sensations which brought colour rushing to her face. She instinctively took a step away, and risked a fleeting glance up at the man whose touch had wreaked such havoc with her senses, only to discover that he wasn't even looking at her, but across at the instrument in the corner of the room. It was only then that she realised that the music had stopped.

  "My, my! What an energetic dance the waltz is!" she exclaimed, striving to control her erratic breathing as she followed the direction of his half-amused gaze to discover Robina, fingers poised above the keys, looking decidedly thoughtful. "I think we'll end the first lesson there, don't you? I feel quite exhausted."

  This was no less than the truth, but it didn't account for the sudden feeling of shyness which assailed her, and she discovered that it was as much as she could do to nod dismissal to Ben, before moving across to the sofa.

  Robina joined her the instant the door had closed behind him. "You appear to have acquired a most accomplished groom."

  The quietly spoken observation in no way struck Sophia as odd. In fact, she would have been most surprised if her very observant friend had not noticed that there was something very singular about Benjamin Rudgely.

  "More accomplished than you rea
lise," she responded, having swiftly regained much of her composure, and wondering why she had come to lose it in the first place. '.'Every time I'm in his company, I learn something new about him. Why, only the other day I discovered that he can read and write."

  "Good heavens!" Robina did not attempt to hide her surprise. "Unusual, don't you think?"

  "Very," Sophia agreed. "But then Benjamin Rudgely is a most unusual man."

  Reaching for the ratafia, conveniently placed on the nearby table, she poured out two glasses, handing one to Robina before leaning back against the sofa to sip hers meditatively. "It wouldn't surprise me to discover that he was some rich man's by-blow."

  A vicar's daughter she may have been, but Robina was neither naive nor easily shocked. She merely gazed at some distant spot, as though conjuring up a vision of a handsome face with undeniably aristocratic features, and after a moment or two nodded in agreement.

  "He always refers to his late employer as 'the old master'," Sophia explained. "I have a strong feeling, though, that the relationship between them was rather more than that of master and servant. After all, how many people would take the trouble to ensure that their servants received an education? I know my father did just that with Trapp, but it is unusual, you must admit."

  Again her friend nodded in agreement. "So you think that his old employer might well have been his father?"

  "It's a possibility, certainly."

  "But you don't know his name?"

  "No, I don't," Sophia freely admitted. "Furthermore, I have no intention of trying to discover it, either. If Ben wishes me to know, he'll tell me—if not, then I'm certain he has his reasons for not doing so."

  Robina's regard turned from merely interested to downright penetrating in a matter of seconds. "You have evidently taken a keen interest in your groom, Sophia," she remarked softly.

  "Yes, I suppose I have."

  "You have grown fond of him, I think."

  "Yes," she admitted, seeing no earthly reason to lie. "But I was also very fond of Clem, remember?"