Benjamin paused as a pair of voices wafted up to him on the breeze. A man and a woman. Was it possible the innocent-looking Miss Blake was having an illicit tryst on the lower terrace?
Out of sheer curiosity, Benjamin strode to the stone wall and set down the champagne flutes before making his way down the stairs to the terrace below. He stuck to the shadows so he couldn’t be seen and then ducked behind a large statue.
Much better. He could hear every word now, though he still couldn’t see a thing.
“How is your mother, Miss Blake? Is she well?”
“I’m afraid she’s not all that well, Colonel Wallace,” she replied, and Benjamin grew hard at the mere lilt of her voice.
But what was she doing out here with Colonel Wallace? The man was old enough to be her father, and he had a rather unsavory reputation. Benjamin didn’t like this scenario one whit.
“I’m sorry to hear that. Your mother was always such a gracious hostess. I daresay her lovely daughter will follow in her footsteps.”
Miss Blake gave a little laugh at the colonel’s compliment just as the strains of the waltz reached Benjamin’s ears. Clearly, she heard it, too, for she sucked in a rather loud breath.
“Oh, Colonel Wallace, thank you for the conversation, but I’m afraid this dance is reserved by a rather important gentleman.”
Benjamin’s chest puffed out a bit at her words. Of course he was important in a lord of the realm sense, but it wasn’t often he got to hear a woman say it, and with a particular breathiness to her tone. He was more than flattered.
However, he didn’t have much time to ponder her compliment. She practically ran up the terrace stairs. She would be looking for him when she arrived back at the ballroom.
He waited a moment to make sure Colonel Wallace was looking the other way and then darted up the stairs after her. He saw Miss Blake just as she was sneaking back in through a door at the far end, and so he did the same through another door. He lost himself in the crowd for a moment and then approached her as if from a direction other than the terrace.
“Miss Blake.” He bowed before her, bringing her up short in her search for him.
“Lord Glastonbury!” Her ample breasts heaved from her run up the stairs. “I was just looking for you.”
“Shall we?” He imparted his most dazzling smile on her and then swept her into his arms.
Damn, but she felt good there. Perfect, like a glove, designed and measured just for him. They twirled about the dance floor as though they’d done it a hundred times before.
“You are quite the dancer, Miss Blake.”
“I suppose I had an excellent instructor,” she returned with a smile. “I’ve been complimented more times than I can count tonight in regard to my dancing. I shall have to send a thank-you letter to Mr. Ponsonby first thing tomorrow.”
Benjamin laughed, but as they rounded the corner at the far end of the ballroom, near the terrace doors, all humor fell away. Colonel Wallace stood there watching them, and Benjamin had the distinct feeling the man was up to no good. When he made eye contact, the man turned and left the ballroom.
“Miss Blake, I hope I’m not being too forward, but might I offer a small piece of advice?”
She blinked up at him with her doe-eyed expression. “I suppose so.”
“I thought to warn you that . . . not everyone is as they seem.”
Miss Blake looked at him, waiting for more, but he wasn’t quite sure what else to say. Should he warn her specifically of Colonel Wallace?
No, better to make it general, so as not to incriminate himself.
“Is that all?”
“No,” he finally said, meeting her wide brown eyes with his own. “I would like to call on you tomorrow, if I may.”
A smile stretched across her face and lit up his heart. He could get very used to seeing that smile every day.
“That would be . . . wonderful.”
***
Benjamin was up before dawn the next morning, wishing he could sleep another four hours, but knowing he’d never be able to fall back to sleep. The same dream that had haunted him for a year had plagued him last night.
Would he never get over his guilt? He knew it wasn’t entirely his fault, what had happened that day on the field of honor, but still . . . the old baron didn’t deserve to perish in that way. He’d had a wife and a daughter, supposedly, a life Benjamin had no right to take from him, regardless of whether or not the man had tried to cheat his brother at the table.
Benjamin pushed the tormenting thoughts from his mind and catapulted himself from the bed. There was only one way he would find relief from his nightmare.
He dressed and prepared himself for the day, and then made his way to Ashbury Manor, his sister’s Grosvernor Square estate. Katherine had married Benjamin’s old friend, William Hart, Duke of Weston, two years earlier, and while they were still childless, they were still sickeningly happy.
But his sister was the ton’s most notorious busy-body, and so she would be able to point him in the right direction.
Ashbury Manor’s butler showed him promptly to the breakfast room upon his arrival, for which Ben was eternally grateful. He was famished, and he rejoiced at having come to his sister’s home rather than the club for breakfast. The smells of eggs and breakfast meats had his stomach rumbling like thunder in the cavernous room. He had no idea whether Katherine and William had eaten yet, but much to his delight, the buffet was still fresh and piping hot. Benjamin piled his plate high and sat, eager to enjoy his meal.
He was about to shovel a forkful of egg into his mouth when a ruckus of shrill giggles rent the air, alerting him to his sister’s presence. They were like schoolchildren, she and the duke, running about playing a game of chase through the halls of Ashbury Manor. A moment later, Katherine crossed the threshold and stumbled to a halt at the sight of her brother at the breakfast table.
“You can’t escape me for long, Duckie!” came William’s voice from the hall.
“I wouldn’t dream of it . . . Duckie,” Benjamin responded flatly, eliciting a bemused smile from his sister.
William appeared in the doorway and blushed from ear to ear when he saw his brother-in-law at the table.
“Oh, don’t be ashamed, Duckie, it’s quite adorable, really,” Benjamin teased further, unable to help himself.
“All right, gentlemen, that’s quite enough,” Katherine reproached. “I didn’t realize you were here, Benjamin.”
Benjamin smiled. “I thought it might be nice to have breakfast with my sister and her husband this morning.”
William sat, his plate aloft with a generous helping of kedgeree. “Would you care to join me on a ride this morning, Ben? I want to give my new gelding a good run down Rotten Row.”
“Much as I would love to, I actually have some things to attend to this morning, which is why I’m here. I, ah . . . I want to visit Baroness Grimsby.”
Both Katherine and William paused mid bite to stare at him.
“Well, are you going to tell me where she lives or not, Kat?” he persisted.
“Yes, of course. I’m sorry, Ben, I didn’t realize you would . . . that is to say . . . oh, Ben, you know it wasn’t your fault,” she finished, her voice pleading and pitying at once.
He gave her a somber smile. “No, I don’t know that, Kat. I need to pay a visit.”
“Berkeley Square. Blakeny House.”
Well, that was convenient. He had another important visit to make in Berkeley Square that day. Benjamin stood to go, abandoning the rest of his breakfast, but Katherine stopped him.
“Ben, it’s not even nine in the morning. You can’t call on Lady Grimsby this early.”
“She’s right, GB,” William said, using the old nickname his friends at Eton had come up with in lieu of Glastonbury. “Why don’t you come on that ride with me?”
Despite his desire to get his visit with Lady Grimsby over with as soon as possible, he had to admit they were right. It wouldn’t do t
o show up on her doorstep this early in the morning. Though he wasn’t sure he could wait until appropriate visiting hours. That time was reserved for his visit to Miss Blake.
He smiled as he pictured her freckled little nose.
“A penny for your thoughts,” Kat said, bringing him back to reality.
“Not even a hundred pounds,” he shot back, then turned to William. “Hopefully, you have a spirited stallion for me to ride.”
“Nothing less for you, Brother.”
Benjamin followed his brother-in-law to their private mews and gratefully accepted the reins to a glorious black stallion. William had always had an eye for horseflesh, and Widow-Maker was about as fine as they came. The new gelding wasn’t so bad, either, with his chocolate brown coat and jet black mane. They would spark the envy of every gentleman on Rotten Row that morning.
They waded through the busy streets at a walk and took their time getting to the long riding path at the other end of the park. It was a fine morning, though the dark clouds in the distance heralded a rainy afternoon.
“How is it, being back in England?” William ventured from beside him.
“Odd,” Ben remarked honestly. “It’s still hard to believe I’m home again. I wasn’t sure I would ever come back.”
“And what of your home in New York?”
Benjamin was quiet for a moment. “I gave it to my mistress,” he finally admitted.
William only nodded his reply, and they fell into silence for a few moments. But Benjamin felt the question in the air, so he answered it before Will had a chance to ask.
“She won’t live there forever. Just until she . . . finds someone else.”
“And what if you find someone else first?”
He nodded. Of course he would probably find a wife before Lillian found another benefactor. She hadn’t been too keen on his leaving her behind. The house had been a consolation; she’d been rather outraged when he told her he was leaving and more than likely never coming back. She would probably stay forever just to spite him.
“I would say that I would cross that bridge once I came to it, but I fear that bridge needs to be crossed post haste.”
“Oh?”
“I know it sounds absurd—I can hardly believe this myself—but father says his last wish is to see the future marquess settled with his marchioness.”
A snort of laughter came from William, and Ben rolled his eyes at him.
“Laugh all you want. It’s a dying man’s wish. He says he owes everything to Mother. Without her he never could have been the great leader he turned out to be. He wants me to have that same . . . support, I suppose.”
“Well,” William said, “I can’t really argue with him there. I was lost until your sister.”
Benjamin had to laugh at that. William had always been exceedingly organized and diligent in his duties; he doubted his flighty, nosy sister could have offered much in the way of support to that end. Still, William wouldn’t have said that if he didn’t mean it. Perhaps Benjamin wouldn’t understand until he experienced marriage for himself.
“Good morning, gentlemen.”
“Mr. Potter,” William acknowledged as the younger man approached from the opposite direction. “Out for a morning ride?”
“Among other things.” Mr. Potter tipped his hat to Benjamin, who nodded back. “I recognize you from the Stapleton Ball last night, though I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure of an introduction.”
“Potter, this is my brother-in-law, Benjamin Wetherby, Earl of Glastonbury. He’s just returned from a yearlong sabbatical in New York.”
“In America?” The young man’s face lit with excitement.
“Indeed,” Benjamin confirmed.
“Those are lovely flowers, Potter. Are they for someone special?”
“Special, indeed. I met her last night at the Stapleton Ball. I’m on my way to Berkeley Square to call on her now.”
Benjamin’s ears perked up at the mention of Berkeley Square. Wasn’t that where Miss Blake said she lived? Number Twelve, if he remembered correctly. Despite the fact that she probably wasn’t the only debutante to live in Berkeley Square, Benjamin had a sinking suspicion the young pup was going to see the enchanting Miss Blake.
Well, then, he would just have to pick up an even bigger bouquet of hothouse flowers.
Chapter 3
Phoebe looked up from her position beside her mother to see Becky standing in the doorway. She motioned for Phoebe to come to her. Clearly, whatever she had to say, she didn’t want to say it in front of Lady Grimsby. Which could only mean one thing: There was another bill collector downstairs.
“What is it, Becky?” she whispered as they slipped into the hall.
“There’s a gentleman downstairs, miss. Says he needs to see you.”
Phoebe sighed, and a sudden weariness came over her. “Can’t you tell him I’m not at home? I don’t know what I’ll say if I do receive him. I haven’t a shilling left.”
“It’s not that kind of gentleman, Miss Phoebe,” Becky said. A wry smile appeared on her lips. “It’s a gentleman gentleman.”
“A what?” Phoebe stared back at her maid, dumbfounded. “You mean . . . ?”
Becky nodded enthusiastically. “And he’s brought you flowers, too!”
A shiver of excitement started at Phoebe’s toes and quickly crawled its way to her lips where she was helpless to prevent a smile. “Wonderful! Where did you put him?”
“Put him?” Becky’s eyes widened until every inch of green was visible.
“Yes, what room is he in?”
“He’s . . . on the front stoop, miss.”
“The front—Oh, dear. Becky, see that my mother eats the rest of her meal. I shouldn’t be too long.”
With that, Phoebe tore down the hall and down the stairs, pausing only for a brief moment to catch her breath, before flinging open the front door. She faltered a bit when she saw it was Mr. Potter on the stoop. He hadn’t mentioned anything last night about calling on her and so she hadn’t expected it to be him behind the door.
He did, however, look incredibly handsome in the light of day, with the sunlight glinting off his blond waves. And the flowers he carried had clearly been selected with care. She certainly wasn’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth, and so she stepped aside and ushered him in, accepting the flowers with a wide and, hopefully, flirtatious smile.
“I’m sorry that our maid left you standing on the stoop,” she said, leading him down the hall to the parlor. “Our . . . um . . . butler had a . . . family emergency!”
It hadn’t occurred to her until she’d seen Mr. Potter on her stoop, looking handsome and so refined, that her situation might seem an embarrassment. Only one servant for the household. The furniture sparse and faded. What was left of it, anyway.
But there was naught she could do about it now, and so she pasted on her brightest smile as if everything was as it should be and led him into the parlor. It wasn’t until she turned around to face Mr. Potter that all her fears were confirmed.
He looked about the room with an uncomfortable expression on his otherwise handsome face. He stopped in the middle of the worn rug and rocked forward and back on his heels, put his hands in his pockets, took them out again, and then finally spoke.
“I hope you like the flowers,” he said.
“Oh, yes. They are quite lovely. I’ll have Becky put them in water just as soon as she—” finishes force-feeding my mother. Oh, Lord, this was not going well at all. “—Comes downstairs,” Phoebe finally finished.
“Right, well, I’m sure you’re expecting a great many callers today, Miss Blake. It wouldn’t be well done of me to monopolize all your time.”
Phoebe almost commented that they’d yet to even sit down, and that it was far too early to expect a great many callers, but she held her tongue. If he didn’t want to be here, where he was obviously so uncomfortable, she wasn’t going to force him.
“Well, thank you for calling, Mr. Potter.
I’m certain our paths will cross again soon.” She batted her eyelashes in one last attempt to win his affection, despite her obvious state of financial ruin, but he wasn’t even looking at her.
He was already at the door, stalking down the hall ahead of her, muttering something about letting himself out. Phoebe sighed and sank down to the sofa, coughing a little as a poof of dust exploded into the air.
Perhaps she’d spoken too soon on the ease of finding a husband.
***
By the time Benjamin returned to Ashbury Manor to retrieve his own horse, it was almost noon and he was feeling a bit restless. He still needed to call on Lady Grimsby—Lord only knew how long that might take—and buy flowers before calling on Miss Blake.
He rode as fast as the busy London streets would allow until he found himself in Berkeley Square. He wasn’t sure where exactly he would find Blakeny House, so he meandered slowly about the square, reading the placards on the town houses as he went. It wasn’t until he’d almost made a full revolution around the square that he found the one.
With mounting apprehension, he climbed from his horse. He barely even noticed his feet were moving as the front door grew nearer, and before he knew it, his hand reached up to lift the brass knocker. Then he waited. And waited. It seemed like an eternity stretched before him, and he was just about to give up and turn tail, when the latch clicked and the door creaked open.
Benjamin’s jaw dropped as the little maid he had seen with Miss Blake at the ball last night came into view. Apparently, she wasn’t as surprised as he, for her face turned up into a silly smile as she bobbed a curtsey.
“Afternoon, Lord Glastonbury,” she said, stepping aside to allow him into the foyer. “Shall I fetch Miss Blake for you?”
It took him a moment to find his voice, but it didn’t matter. Nothing coherent came out when he did. “I . . . no—I mean, yes, but . . . I was actually—”
Gentleman Never Tells (Regency Historical Romance) Page 2
