“Benjamin?”
“Sorry!” he exclaimed, bringing his mind back to the present. “Do you know this one?”
He began to play a Mozart sonata. One he loved and played often. And when he saw, out of the corner of his eye, that Phoebe poised her left hand above the keys, he dropped his own left hand and she began to play. The hands in this particular piece were played close together, though, and Phoebe had to turn her body into him in order to execute the notes.
Benjamin momentarily lost his concentration when her breasts pushed into his upper arm, and his fingers missed several notes in a row. Dear God, this was absolute torture. She was so close, smelled so delicious, and now her breasts—her full, delectable-looking breasts—were mashed against him.
He knew she was aware of it, too. He heard the sharp intake of breath, felt the slight ritardando in her playing. But neither of them stopped for fear of what might happen if they did.
However, the piece was only so long, and after a mere couple of minutes, they reached the end. They played the last chord in perfect precision, and as the echo faded, it became evident that their breathing had found precision as well.
When he felt her gaze on him, he turned to look at her. She licked her lips, and Benjamin wasn’t sure how long he could continue to play the gentleman. The tightening in his trousers was already more than he could bear.
Dear God, he had never been so aroused in his life.
But she was an innocent. And she was the marrying kind. The kind he wanted to marry. It wouldn’t do to ruin the poor girl here, where they could be caught. He actually liked this Phoebe Blake, and he wanted to do things right. To court her properly, and ask her mother for her hand, not announce they would be married because he had defiled her in the Sheffields’ music room.
But then she licked her lips again, and Benjamin decided he was no longer accountable for his actions. He leaned into her and planted his lips on hers. Phoebe responded immediately, wrapping her arms around his neck, pressing her breasts to him like a wanton woman while he wrapped his arms about her slender waist.
Benjamin had kissed many women in his life—women with a great deal of experience in the art. But none had ever aroused him, enchanted him, like this one. The smell of her, the feel of her womanly curves beneath his roaming hands—all of it combined and unraveled him until he wasn’t even sure of his own name anymore.
But with a jolt of remorse, he remembered her name. Or, more importantly, her father’s name. In the back of his mind, he wondered if he had ever heard the old baron referred to by his actual name, rather than his title. If he had, he had not associated the two. Even his nephew Geoffrey had always called him Grimsby, never Blake.
Shaking his mind free of his thoughts, he pulled back from the kiss and met with Phoebe’s lazy, lusty eyes. Yes, it had been a rather thorough kiss—one she wasn’t likely to forget anytime soon.
“Now we really ought to be getting back,” he said, his voice barely reaching above a gravelly whisper.
Phoebe only nodded before she slipped off the bench and retreated from the room. Benjamin remained for propriety’s sake and then made his way back to the concert in progress.
Chapter 5
Phoebe returned to the drawing room where the audience was beginning to rise from their seats for intermission. She sought out Becky, who immediately widened her bright green eyes at her.
“What is it?” Phoebe asked. Was it that obvious she had just been kissed?
Her cheeks turned warm at the thought. Goodness, she was unnerved by that man! The memory of his hands around her waist, his lips caressing hers so tenderly . . .
“Miss, are you all right?” Becky asked, bringing Phoebe from her scandalous thoughts.
“I’m fine,” she replied, feeling somewhat panicky inside. “Why? Do I not look fine?”
“You look flushed, is all. Should we step outside for a moment?”
Phoebe did want to step outside—fresh air would have done her a world of good. But then Lord Glastonbury, Benjamin, came through the door and sauntered into the drawing room. He spared only a fleeting glance for her before making his way across the room to his sister. She watched him, his every move, studied the way he walked and spoke and laughed with the Duchess of Weston.
While Benjamin was a paragon of aristocratic breeding, his sister was the epitome of grace and beauty—everything one would expect from a hostess of the ton. With her raven hair pulled into an intricate plait and her perfectly fitted scarlet gown, Phoebe wondered if she could ever match up. How must Benjamin see her? What must he think of her re-made gowns and paste jewels? Surely, she paled in comparison to the women he was accustomed to.
“Would you like some lemonade?”
Phoebe turned to her maid, aware she had not answered her in regard to stepping outside. “Oh, yes, I suppose a bit of refreshment would be nice.” The only problem was that Benjamin stood right next to the table where said refreshment could be retrieved.
This posed a great many questions. How should she act? Should she greet him or pretend they didn’t know one another? Perhaps she should just send Becky alone to avoid him all together. But Becky had already stepped out and was on her way to the table. If she called her name or pulled her back now, she would draw attention to herself, and she certainly didn’t want to do that.
So she stepped out in Becky’s wake and followed her to the refreshment table.
***
Benjamin couldn’t quite explain the sudden acceleration of his heartbeat. Or the beads of perspiration that broke out on his brow despite the cool breeze flowing through the drawing room. But he was surprised to learn, when he turned around, that they were a result of the close proximity of Miss Blake. Phoebe.
Was it possible he had sensed her before he even knew she was there? He sniffed the air and realized he could smell her faint perfume. It could have been the smell of the garden that lay just beyond the drawing room windows, but either way, it smelled like her.
He didn’t dare catch her eye, though, and he moved himself in front of his sister so she wouldn’t see Phoebe there behind him. They could meet another time. A time when he hadn’t just been kissing and fondling the girl in private.
Good Lord, he was uncomfortable!
“Oh, Benjamin, look! It’s Lady Sharpe and her lovely daughter Abigail!”
Benjamin followed his sister’s gaze to the two women who approached from the opposite direction. He groaned, wishing he could avoid his sister’s matchmaking attempts, but there was no way out now.
“Lady Sharpe, I’m sure you remember my brother,” Kat said with a covert smile for the woman.
“Oh, indeed, Your Grace!” Lady Sharpe dipped into a curtsey that should have been difficult for a woman of her advanced years. “You are not easily forgotten, Lord Glastonbury. Though, I do not think you have met my youngest.” She pushed her daughter forward and practically forced the poor girl into a curtsey. “My lord, this is Abigail.”
Sensing Abigail was as embarrassed by her mother’s gregariousness as he was, he smiled warmly at her, took her hand and kissed the air above her knuckles.
“Oh, look! There is Mrs. Harcourt,” Kat announced. “I’ve been meaning to speak with her about our committee. If you will excuse me?”
Damn his sister. How could she leave him alone with this woman? Fairly easily, it would seem, for he had not even finished the thought before she was gone from their circle.
“Our Abigail has just embarked on her first season, my lord,” said Lady Sharpe. Then she leaned in to whisper, “And she has suitors practically banging down the door. Of course, it’s not any wonder, is it?”
Benjamin shifted his eyes to look at Abigail. The poor girl seemed mortified, and he didn’t blame her. Her mother was just as shameless as his sister was, and Ben knew all too well the embarrassment that came with having such a family member.
“It is a very fortunate thing to be so well-sought-after,” he offered with a cordial nod.
“Yes, but it is a pity none are truly suitable matches for our little girl.”
“Suitable?”
She leaned in closer, her beady eyes narrowed. “What I mean, my lord, is that none can offer our Abigail the . . . finer things in life, to which she is accustomed.”
Oh, good Lord! It was probably true Abigail had a fair amount of suitors at her door. She had a quiet demeanor and a large dowry, if his sister were to be believed. Though it was clear her mother hoped for her daughter to marry not just any peer, but one who still maintained a substantial amount of fortune and power.
While he wished all the best for Abigail, Benjamin pitied the man who ended up with Lady Sharpe for a mother-in-law.
“Ah, I see,” he said, and, then, desperate to make a quick escape, added with an optimistic smile, “Well, never fear, Lady Sharpe. I’m sure the right one will come along soon.”
With that, he bowed to the women and turned to go, noting as he did, that Phoebe had already gone.
Chapter 6
The following morning, Benjamin called on his sister bright and early, not only because he wanted to partake of the elaborate Ashbury Manor buffet, but also because he couldn’t let another day go by without knowing what, if anything, his sister knew about Miss Blake.
“Goodness, Ben, you might as well set up a room for yourself here and get rid of your town house if you’re going to raid our buffet every morning,” Katherine said as she crossed the threshold into the breakfast room.
“I’m not sure what people would think of me were I to move in with my sister, but thank you just the same. It would make things much more convenient. Where’s Duckie this morning?”
Kat rolled her eyes. “He’s gone to meet with our solicitor.” She put two pieces of plain toast on her plate and asked the footman for a cup of tea.
“Are you unwell?” Benjamin asked, concerned that his sister’s normally vivacious appetite seemed to have disappeared.
She was silent for a moment as if she contemplated telling the truth or not. “Not unwell, per se. Just . . . tired.”
“I’ve never known you to eat so little—no matter how tired you were.”
“Yes, well, my stomach may be a little upset. Too much lemonade last night.”
“Liar.”
Kat’s head snapped up and her black eyes settled on him in alarm. “What are you talking about?”
“The truth, Kat. I don’t have all day. Are you unwell?” He punctuated the last words with an edge of impatience to his tone.
His sister’s face began to contort, and he wasn’t sure if she was going to laugh or cry. After a moment, she said, “Leave us,” and the footmen bowed out of the room, closing the door firmly behind them.
Oh, Lord. Something must truly be wrong for her to send the servants away. He waited while she gathered herself, and at long last she looked up at him. Her eyes were moist, but she wore a serene smile that put Ben somewhat at ease.
“I’m enceinte.”
The words hung in the air for a moment before Ben jumped from his seat and went to his sister. He pulled her from her chair and enveloped her in his embrace. Kat and William had wanted this for so long, and he knew they’d worried if it would ever happen at all. But it had, and he couldn’t have been more thrilled for his sister and his old friend.
“What did William say when you told him?” he asked as he made his way back to his seat.
And then his sister dissolved into tears.
“Kat? What is it?”
“He . . . he doesn’t know yet.”
Dammit. He had squeezed it out of her before she’d even had a chance to tell her husband. “Well, you must do it soon . . . tonight! This isn’t a secret I can keep, Kat.”
She laughed at that. The entire family was notoriously bad at keeping secrets, so they had very few amongst them.
“I will,” she said, her voice choked from the combination of laughter and tears. “I promise. Now—” she straightened up in her chair and used a napkin to wipe the tears from her cheeks, “why are you here?”
Right. He had come for a reason. “Did you know who Grimsby’s wife and daughter were? I mean, are you aware of their surname?”
“Yes, of course, Benjamin. They don’t call me Canary Kat for nothing.”
“Bloody hell, you have a nickname now?”
“Watch your language, and, yes, I do. I suspect you learned this when you paid your visit the other day?” He nodded his confirmation. “And what of it?”
“I met Miss Blake the night before . . . at the Stapleton ball. I meant to call on her after my visit to the baroness. You can imagine my surprise when I realized they were all one and the same.”
“You meant to . . . oh, dear, Ben. You’re courting Grimsby’s daughter?”
“It’s more than that, though,” Ben admitted. “I think I might actually like the girl.” He remembered their kiss the night before, laughing while they played Mozart together . . .
“She is lovely.”
“You’ve met her?” Ben snapped back to the present. Phoebe had indicated they’d never been introduced.
“No, but I have seen her. She was there last night, was she not?”
Benjamin nodded. The truth was he could have introduced the two women last night at the musicale, but after their kiss, he and Phoebe avoided one another like the plague.
“And I would very much like to meet her.” Kat’s voice tilted up hopefully at the end of her last sentence.
Blast it, should he really be doing this? Courting Miss Blake, involving his sister? What if they became friends? Then what would he do?
And what if he married Miss Blake? It seemed a bit early to think of such a thing, but with his father’s health and his dying wish . . .
Damn, how would he ever keep the horrid secret of her father’s death from her?
“I don’t know if I’m ready to bring her here, Kat. Give me a few days alone with her. I think it’s best if I come out in the open before I begin introducing her to the family. And please refrain from throwing anymore Lady Sharpes my way.”
“Oh, Ben, she’s a lovely woman and so is Abigail. But since you’re apparently smitten with Miss Blake, I will do my best to deter the mamas.”
“Thank you.”
Kat moved to take a bite of her toast when her face twisted into a grimace. Her hand flew to her mouth, and she looked at him as if to say Please excuse me before she flew from the room. He might have felt sorry for her if he didn’t know she’d been praying for this for two years.
He stayed a few more minutes to finish his breakfast and then left Ashbury Manor. There were flowers to buy and a particular young lady he wished to visit. He just wished he could leave his guilt behind with the remains of his breakfast.
***
Benjamin called on Phoebe every day for the next few days. And every day, Phoebe had to pinch herself to make sure she wasn’t dreaming. It wasn’t just the fact that a man had taken interest and decided to court her; it was that Benjamin Wetherby had.
He was everything a girl could hope for: kind and funny and smart. It didn’t hurt that he was a peer of the realm, either, or that he was about to inherit a marquessate. Or that he was quite the most handsome man she had ever laid eyes upon. But Phoebe was sure she would have loved him even if that were not the case. After all, he seemed to care for her despite the fact she had less than nothing.
They never discussed the kiss that happened in the Sheffields’ music room, but that didn’t stop them from sharing more. Benjamin always delivered a chaste kiss upon his arrival and a not-so-chaste kiss before he left every day. Surely, Phoebe had discovered heaven on earth in those kisses.
On the fourth day, Benjamin arrived, flowers in hand—goodness, the parlor was overrun with them now!—but he did not come inside. He insisted she hand over the flowers to Becky and don her pelisse; they were going to Ashbury Manor.
Phoebe’s heart raced as the open carriage trundled through Mayfair. Was he tru
ly taking her to meet his sister? What would she be like? She’d never met a duchess, only seen them from a distance at parties and balls. She wanted so much for Her Grace of Weston to like her, to see her the way she thought Benjamin saw her.
Becky gave her a slight nudge, bringing her back to attention, only to realize she’d been gathering her skirts in her sweaty hands. The fabric wrinkled unattractively when she let it go.
Oh, bother! At least she had chosen her most fashionable garment that morning when she dressed herself. The light pink muslin day dress flattered her frame exceptionally, clinging where necessary and falling eloquently over her softer parts. She did wish, however, that her bonnet were of a more fashionable style. It was a little old and didn’t quite frame her face in the right way. At least she could deposit it into the hands of a servant before the duchess would have a chance to make a judgment on the state of her wardrobe.
She looked up to see Benjamin smiling at her. Blast it, he’d been watching as she mangled her dress, and clearly found it amusing.
“You needn’t be nervous, Miss Blake,” he said, using her proper name in Becky’s presence, though the way he looked at her was far from proper. “I told you, the two of you will get along splendidly.”
Phoebe nodded, appreciative of his reassurance, though it did little to calm her nerves. They were only a few blocks from Grosvenor Square now, so she decided to focus on her surroundings rather than think of all the things that could go wrong over tea with a duchess. Things like spilling tea on herself, or worse, on Her Grace; knocking over the entire tea-cart and breaking all the Wedgewood china; or God forbid she slip and announce that she’d fallen in love with the woman’s brother in the last four days of their acquaintance. Yes, that would be far worse than breaking a few replaceable pieces of china.
Gentleman Never Tells (Regency Historical Romance) Page 4
